Immediately the men on top of the wall turned and began to fire. Several of the Northerners went down to their bows, though a few others also pulled out their own longbows and fired back, taking out a few of the defenders, since the wall lacked any cover on its interior.
Nymeria bounded out of the cart, causing cries of dismay and fear, which were exacerbated a second later when she began to howl loudly. After which she joined Arya, rushing over towards the gatehouse.
That was the signal for the rest of the Northerners outside the castle to start rushing the gate. Seeing that, several of the archers on the wall turned and took them under fire, but the Northerners and their Riverlands allies rushed on.
Arya and Dacey slammed into the inner doorway leading into the gatehouse, taking the archers stationed there from behind. Fang slew the first man who turned, slicing his leather armor from side to shoulder in one swift movement before coming back to sliced through another man's arm as it was hastily raised in defense, Fang's edge glowing slightly blue. Dacey barreled in after her, her claymore out and piercing one man through the shoulder causing him to scream aloud while she turned to her next opponent.
Outside more of the Northerners had fallen to the bows of the Bracken men, but the first two groups from outside the castle had raced into the courtyard, their own archers firing back against those on the wall while Roger and Hathan led the charge forward over the bodies of the nearest guards, ignoring the screams of the servants as they scattered. Roger shouted, "I'll hold the door to the keep, you head for the barracks!"
Hathan didn't bother replying, simply veering off at the head of a dozen men. He winced as an arrow slammed into his shoulder and almost penetrated his ill-gotten leather armor, the only type that could fit under his disguise. He lamented his plate armor's loss for a moment then he had no more time to do so as the men in the barracks boiled out. However for the most part they hadn't been wearing their armor either.
Hathan dodged one man's blow who was wielding a heavy axe that almost looked as large as Roger's, before punching the man hard enough in the stomach to make the air whoosh of his lungs while he blocked another blow from someone else's sword with his own longsword held in his other hand. He tried to thrust forward to catch the other man, but he was too used to his own weapon and misjudged his lunge. The greatsword he wielded from horseback had to be left behind with the rest of the men after all it would have stood out in an infantryman's hand.
He felt his armor rip along one side, the leather parting as another man tried to open up his side, but Hathan had twisted away at the last moment. Hathan's arm came back, his own sword slashing the other man's leather armor and cutting deep into the area between his shoulder and neck. "The Mander, the Mander for the King of the North!"
Roger was having similar difficulties, only worse. There were five men who led the charge out from the keep. There were only six other men with them, but the five in the lead wore the plate armor of knights, and the men behind them also wore chest plates of the better sort of armsmen. Roger and his men met them in the open area right before the keeps doors, and the defenders held for a precious few moments as the doors slammed shut behind them.
"Old God's damn it!" Roger bellowed even as he blocked a blow from one man's greatsword changing its direction enough to come up inside the man's range and slamming his elbow into his gorget with enough force to crumple the plate there and crush the jugular beneath. That man fell and Roger let his own blade fall to the ground, grabbing up the man's greatsword, coming around with a blow that blocked another man's greatsword pushing him to one side.
Around him three Northerners were already down, for only one of the Bracken men, but more Northerners were racing forward while more and more of them entered the gate, which was now firmly in the Northerners hands. "Surrender!" Roger yelled, going chest to chest with one of the other knights and then throwing him backwards in a show of strength that no one but another wolfsworn could've matched. The man actually left the ground for 15 feet before slamming into another man carrying him into the now closed gates of the keep.
That gave the other Bracken men pause and Roger raised the greatsword pointing it at them. Behind him Arya and Nymeria came up, blood on Fang and her fangs. "Surrender! You will be well treated, you and your charges inside."
Even with the sight of the monstrous wolf baring down on them they didn't surrender and the battle in the courtyard continued, with another knight falling as Nymeria bore him to Earth, while Roger cut an armsmen almost in two with his borrowed blade. For some reason however he couldn't push his knife energy into the edge.
Above them in the keep a few archers began to fire down at the Northerners in the courtyard, their fellows having already been swept from the walls. The battle was particularly vicious in front of the barracks, and Hathan took a blow from a mace that cracked several of his ribs and a cut to his thigh that only a last-minute turn kept from taking his leg off entirely. His return blow however split the man from shoulder to crotch despite his plate armor, and by that point Nymeria and Arya were there, having left Roger and Dacey to guard the gate of the keep.
The northern and Riverlands archers raced up to the castles walls, half of them looking out while the other half began to fire into the keep from a much more equal position despite the fact that they were open to return fire. Several more died then, but they also silenced the defenders in the keep.
The last group of Northerners entered, a force of five that had been working on a small battering ram. Once they entered, Dacey and Arya ordered the portcullis closed. This castle was not like house Vypren's seat, there was only the one outer gate, and it was now firmly in the Northerner's hands.
Dacey turned from the entrance to the keep with Roger, moving over to see to Hathan. "You lead the attack inside." she ordered, looking at Arya. "Remember, we want prisoners and we don't want this to turn into a slaughter."
"A little late for that." Arya murmured, wiping Fang on a dead man's tunic, the man had not even had time to pull on his armor. "Still I understand what you meant."
She moved over to stand in the open in front of the keeps doorway, shouting aloud. "Open your doors and surrender, we don't want to slaughter here! You will be well treated if you surrender now, but we can't guarantee your safety if you keep fighting!"
For a moment she seemed to hear an argument going on, a man's voice and a woman's voice arguing shrilly, the woman's voice demanding that they surrender while the man said the they could hold out. Hearing that, Arya shook her head and gestured at the men carrying the battering ram. "Knock it down."
She then looked over at the rest of the men who were waiting around the keep's gate. "After me." She growled, her teeth bared almost like Nymeria's, who was standing behind her, as tall now at the shoulders as a horse. "And if any of you even think of killing a servant, I will gut you and feed you to Nymeria."
With a true bonded's ability to get the timing just right Nymeria turned with her teeth bared in a snarl. The Riverlanders and Northerners all nodded, the thought of taking a little bit of revenge for their dead friends disappearing from their minds for a moment. It wasn't anything personal, they were just men. But even that the best of men, after they had just seen friends die, could commit acts that they wouldn't normally.
It only took five swings of the small battering ram to smash the gates of the keep open. Stone Hedge's defenses had been so good that an interior defense hadn't seemed a priority. Arya and Nymeria entered quickly, cutting down two men who had been trying desperately to stack some furniture in the way with a group of male servants who backed away hurriedly.
One of them even screamed so loudly Arya stopped for a moment. "Are you a man, or a little girl?"
The man actually had the courage to look insulted for a moment while the rest of the Northerners raced inside.
"Never mind." Arya grunted. "On your knees and your hands above your heads and stay that way." With more northern barbarians entering the servants surrendered quickly, showing much more sense than the remaining defenders.
There were only about fifteen or so of those remaining defenders, led by an old knight with white hair and a walrus mustache that reminded Arya, after she pulled Fang out of his stomach, of Lord Manderly. But the man obviously hadn't had even a quarter of that Lord's intelligence if he thought they could've held out. She glared over at a statuesque woman standing in front of three daughters of various ages ranging from older than Arya to one who was younger. The younger girl was watching her avidly, her eyes wide and staring.
Arya knew that look, she had seen it in the mirror often enough and she wondered if maybe she'd just found another girl who wanted to be a warrior rather than any of the roles her genders set for her. For now however she couldn't take the time to find out. "Lady Bracken?"
"I am she, and you are?" The lady almost contrived to sound contemptuous, but there was a bit of a tremble to her voice that told Arya how terrified she was.
"I am Arya Stark, granddaughter to your Lord Paramount and brother of his current representative." Arya replied bluntly, watching the woman pale slightly. "This castle is ours now. You and your daughters will be well treated, so long as you make no attempt to escape, both you and your servants."
"And what will happen in the future?" said one of the daughters, moving around her mother to face Arya squarely, more self-assured now that they weren't about to be raped.
"That will depend on what happens elsewhere." Arya said shrugging. We'll hold this castle until we're relieved, but you can bet your house will be punished for backing Lord Lannister."
"The crown." Lady Bracken said cool coldly. "We backed the crown and the crown's representatives. Lord Lannister is the current King's grandfather, and the evidence of Lord Edmure's treason was telling."
"And it gave your husband the chance to do what he always wanted, try to move against House Blackwood." Arya replied sarcastically. "Besides, evidence is always compelling if you only see one side of it! I'm not here to discuss politics with you, you're not intelligent enough and I don't care enough. You may retain your rooms, but there will be guards on the doors at all times, and the servants will only interact with you when guards are present. Do I make myself clear?"
All the women there nodded, cowed slightly by Arya's wild eyes, although the youngest was no longer staring at Arya. She was staring at the direwolf that had padded through the doorway behind the strange, short warrior woman. She pulled at her bigger sister's dress and pointed. "Can I have one of those?"
Arya laughed, shaking her head and rubbed at Nymeria's muzzle for a moment as she came up directly behind Arya. She winked at the youngest girl, then moved off leaving the family to themselves while she placed guards outside the room and then ordered another man to drag the body of that old knight away.
Thanks to Arya's bloodthirsty threat there hadn't been any kind of slaughter among the servants, though the defenders hadn't been so lucky, killed to a man. They only took 22 prisoners among the armsmen of the house mostly from the barracks, but only two servants had died, one when he tried to attack a Northerner from behind with a kitchen knife, and another from a heart attack when the Northerners had barreled into his room.
By the time the sun was starting to lower, the Northerners were ensconced in the castle, their injured were being seen to by their own men and the servants, and the walls were more defended than they had been before the attack. Stone Hedge had fallen and with it and Jon's assault though Lord Tywin didn't know it, his army's supply line.
OOOOOOO
Loras sat outside of his tent, watching in the distance as catapults once again began to fire on the city. From where he was sitting he could see over a dozen of them, mostly of mid-size for the breed. They fired rocks the size of a man farther than an archer could shoot. They slammed with thunderous force into the outer walls of the city, but their thick stone withstood the punishment with ease.
The same could not be said for the catapults, a few of whom were hit by return fire as he watched, the defenders much larger pieces of rock, which were larger than the catapults boulders slamming into or around the catapults with devastating results. The trebuchets of the defenders were incredibly accurate for some reason, and much longer range than anything the army had been able to build thus far. They had their own trebuchets being made near the Kingswood, but they were weeks away from being completed.
While the men around the catapults went to work trying to repair what they could, Loras turned away in disgust, wincing as the move aggravated the wounds on his shoulder and neck. His wounds were nowhere near healed, but already Loras could tell that he would be scarred for life. Indeed when he looked in the mirror Loras could only remember how many jokes he had heard or taken part in talking about Sandor Clegane and his burned face. Not much fun on this side of joke, is it? Loras thought darkly.
The loss of his good looks was not the only thing bothering the Knight of Roses, more worrisome was the fact that since he had been injured he hadn't seen his lover Renly. He had seen his father often, practically every other day, but Renly had not stopped by. Despite being king, Loras knew that Renly could've made time to see him if he wanted to. No, Renly was deliberately avoiding him. That hurt, that hurt a lot! And what does it say about our love that when I'm injured like this he doesn't find the courage in himself to come and see me? Was our relationship that shallow?
Filled with dark thoughts Loras took one last look at the city in the distance then moved back into his tent determined to drink himself into a stupor.
OOOOOOO
"The fire of the defensive catapults is amazing my lords," said Lord Risley, who had been put in charge of the siege equipment along with Lord Cafferen, who was in charge more of building them rather than using them. "We lose one or two of our own every time we use them despite trying our best to move them after each launch. No matter how hard we try, the trebuchet's can range on them anywhere around the city."
"We've battered portions of the wall, but we haven't done enough damage to cause a breach." Renly murmured. "We know that the siege is working. There is no way that the defenders can keep feeding themselves and the smallfolk, and eventually the smallfolk will turn on them but it galls me to have to sit here and wait like this. Do we have any further news about the second echelon, or where my brother is?"
"Your brother seems to have turned aside from a direct route to the city,your majesty" said the leader of their scouts, Lord Steadmon who was also in charge of gathering information from the smallfolk settlements that were well away from the besieging army. There weren't many smallfolk courageous enough to remain on their land so close to any army, but there were a few. It was that aspect of his job that allowed Lord Staedmon to keep a tab on where Stannis was in broad terms. "He's making for Castle Stokeworth my Lord, should be there within another week or so, he's going very slowly for some reason."
"Interesting," said Renly murmuring to himself, "I wonder why he's moving so slowly?" No one there, not even Randyll knew the answer to that one and Renly shrugged his shoulders. "The second echelon?"
"They should have reached the edge of the Kingswood by now and coming up the Kingsroad my liege, I estimate another one or maybe a week and a half before they arrive." Mace said, knowing his second son Garlan would be pushing them hard.
"Good. That will give us enough men to both keep the siege going and turn to engage Stannis if need be."
"You assume that he is going to fight us your Majesty?"Said one lord from the Reach.
"Yes I do for two reasons." Renly replied, smiling thinly. "Stannis is a prideful man, and very certain about his rights. He will not wish to bend the knee to me, whatever the size of our army, or the fact that all know he would make a horrible king. He believes himself our older brother's heir, and he will act upon it. Moreover, there are the rumors of his changing to fire worship to think about. Madness!" Renly shook his head. "Sheer madness! Could any right thinking follower of the Seven consider such a thing?"
There were firm headshakes all around. The Faith of the Seven had the most hold on the people of the Reach, even the lords there believed in some of its tenants if not all of them. What rumor said about the Red Witch horrified them.
"No, Stannis will fight. Oh, I'll try to parlay with him, but it's doubtful it'll get anywhere. Best to assume the worst after all, and plan accordingly."
OOOOOOO
At the same time that Jaime was leading the defense of the city against this latest assault, the small council were meeting to discuss other problems. "The food situation is becoming grave your majesties." Petyr said, for once simply stating the truth without having any ulterior motive. "Your decision to cut rations even further to the smallfolk my Lord has had a hugely detrimental effect on morale in the city."
"It had to be done." Rupert replied his face like stone for a moment. "If they're not involved in the siege, they don't need to keep up their strength like those who are."
"The city is still receiving some food, but not much. The Lyseni pirates are after all pirates, and their various captains have set up a black market to make some money on the side, selling food to anyone who can meet their price." Varys said. "I have moved to take control of that and I've done my best to keep the prices down, but even so I know that some of the pirates continue to trade directly to the smallfolk who can pay for them. The smallfolk have begun to prey on one another even more than usual in order to get the money to pay for food, but that is like an animal eating its own tail. Eventually they will turn on us if we don't start allowing more food to pass on to them."
Rupert frowned rubbing at his face. The fact of the matter was you could not prepare a city for siege. It was simply impossible, unless the city had been built with that in mind. King's Landing certainly had not been, and this led to problems. The food was only one factor, the shanty towns built up outside the walls had been another, but that had been solved by this point. But that left the sheer numbers of smallfolk, the general clutter of the city and the fact the walls demanded nearly all of his men and the gold cloaks to defend them. The Red Keep had its own garrison, as did all of the food depots, but Rupert was beginning to fear he would have to move the food someplace else. Once that news spread, well…
The Queen and Joffrey both frowned too. Lord Serret had forced both of them to cut back on their own food, as well as the rest of the court here in the Red Keep and to say that had been an unpopular decision was putting it mildly. Still Cersei had understood the reasoning, and with her backing even Joffrey had been forced to accede to Rupert's demands. Of course they still ate far better than the common soldiers let alone the smallfolk, but at this point that wasn't saying much.
"If the Pirates are willing to sell foodstuffs to us, would they be willing to turn their coats entirely?" Cersei asked. "I know you said before that such would demand too high a price Varys, but at the moment we are in a cleft stick."
"It would depend upon what the so-called 'Prince of the Inland Sea' has been offered." Varys replied shrugging his shoulders. "As the sale of foodstuffs have been from single captains here and there, I haven't been able to discover whether or not the Saan is even aware of them. If he was, that could be a clue that he could be persuaded to change sides, but I don't think we have enough time to wait for that. I do know Saan is friendly with the Onion Knight, who is Stannis' right-hand man, so his breaking with Stannis is unlikely in any event."
"Nor is food the only thing that is harming the morale of the smallfolk my Lords." Varys went on. "While the Faith might have backed us initially, the Most Devout's ardor has since cooled dramatically. Lord Renly is proclaiming his own position as a defender of the faith, and promising to bring in enough food to feed the entire city if the gates are open for him. It's a shrewd move on his part, and it is slowly gaining momentum among the smallfolk, despite mine and Varys best efforts to combat it in various ways."
"Which doesn't even consider the atrocities of the one the smallfolk have taken to call by the Vile One." Around Varys the small council members all sat forward, this was something new.
At this Varys smiled thinly, but there was no humor in it. "For the past two weeks, possibly more, there have been murders committed in the city, far above the norm of everyday city life. Some of the victim's bodies have been mutilated in horrible ways, then left out on the roads for anyone to find. Whores have gone missing only to be found dead, used in a horrible manner then their bodies abused further before they too were left like so much trash. This is happening all across the city my lords, not just in Fleabottom, and it is effecting morale of every class of smallfolk.
To one side Petyr very carefully let no trace of his thoughts show on his face, merely looking attentive while inside he squirmed, cursing himself for getting into bed with the devil and Cersei and her brother for bringing said devil into the world. He had thought that he could redirect Joffrey's urges into whoring, he had been wrong. Oh, he took up that too, even saw it as a way to prove he was his father's son by showing how good he was at rutting, but afterward, he always 'played' with the whores he found, beyond simply giving them to his men. And he sometimes simply grabbed a random person off the street to torture for pleasure.
Thankfully he knows how to keep his identity secret, the clothing he wears and not actually talking while outside the Red Keep, plus having his guards always wear different sets of armor, none of which have anything that could identify them. And while it's disgusting, helping to feed Joffrey's appetites have allowed me to insinuate myself into his power base, which gives me some measure of protection against Serret, and that makes it all worth it. Petyr very carefully squashed the small voice in his head that another person would have called his conscience when it tried to argue against that sentiment, but he couldn't quite silence it entirely.
"I have not been able to find any clues as to his identity, but rumors make him some kind of noble with a group of ten men at most who follow his every commands, partaking in every dark deed. They are also able to move around the city freely, disappearing during the day to come out at night and prey upon the smallfolk. The rumors have even given him a name, the Vile One."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed, having hoped for some more powerful name. The Vile One was interesting, but he wanted to be known as the Cruel, or the Deadly. Those had some kind of power to them that the Vile One lacked. Still, no one can control rumor to that extent, he thought philosophically. The idea that his actions could have a negative effect on him or his family never occurred to Joffrey. The smallfolk were animals, animals he as king owned. They were there to be used in whatever manner he wished to use them.
"I want that stopped." Rupert growled. "We have too many problems already with keeping the smallfolk under control for that kind of villainy to be added to the ledger. I want this Vile One found, then I want him executed in public." He paused for a moment, thinking hard. "As for the food situation, I'll meet with Jaime and he and I will devise some way to defend the barracks along the walls, making the walls and the gates in particular able to defend themselves from internal attack. After that, we'll talk about moving all the foodstuffs we can to the wall and the Red Keep as quickly and circumspectly as we can, as well as the forces we have defending them. I doubt we'll get away with it, but the defenders need to keep their strength up, and as I said earlier, the smallfolk don't. We can win back their loyalty after we win the war."
"We should also ask the High Septon and the council of the Most Devout to move up to the Red Keep, it's certainly more defensible than the Grand Sept of Baelor." Petyr spoke up, understanding what Serret was planning for.
"Agreed." Serret answered grimly, shaking his head at the necessity of planning for a smallfolk rebellion. Most of those around the table were wondering how bloody it would become, thought Joffrey was simply thinking morosely that he would have to cut back on his playtime.
Over the next four days, the defenders of the city got to work, destroying several hundred houses that were near the wall on the inside to create open fire areas, building up defensive walls around the trebuchets, and manning them, while secretly moving the food in the supply depots to the Red Keep and to the walls in small lots. All but the last were noticed by the smallfolk of the city, but that was enough, and small scale riots began to spring up throughout the city. They grew larger over time.
OOOOOOO
Since the last clash Ranma and his forces had been heading westward towards the Ruby forward as fast as they could. Their speed however at this point was much less than it had been initially, they had a lot more wounded, and the army it in its entirety was exhausted from the constant moves marches and battles. Their morale was still high however, and their trust in Ranma was absolute.
Despite the morale of his force still being high however, Ranma knew this was the make or break moment of his entire campaign, the gamble of all gambles. They had to keep ahead of their pursuers now, the army could not afford to be stopped or even turned aside, they were too low on food and energy. Luckily the chance he had taken by seemingly forting up a few days before paid off, having sucked in all the small forces that could get in front of his army.
Two days after that battle the army marched over the crest of a small hill and left behind a small copse of bushes and trees and suddenly Ranma that knew that his gamble had paid off. Because at that moment, while marching at the back of the column, Ranma could hear the cheers begin. Suddenly the men weren't so weary anymore, like racers who had just spotted the finishing line they summoned up some last vestige of endurance.
Ranma looked at Rickard and Patrek, who were riding beside him. Rickard was nearly drooping in the saddle with weariness after the past few weeks but the older man laughed quietly shaking his head. "It would appear as if your wife did it Ranma," he murmured shaking his head. "I didn't think she would honestly."
"I had faith." Ranma said laughing and reaching up to slap the other man on his thigh before racing off. Soon enough he and Fenris were at the front of the column.
About twelve leagues ahead of them directly on this side of the Ruby Ford there was an army camp, with the grey wolf on white banner flying over it at the front, and several other banners alongside it including Umber, Tully, and all the houses from the eastern side of the Green Fork. Ranma laughed. In all honesty, he had thought that Danny would only be able to get a few of the houses from the eastern side of the Riverlands to agree to stand with them,he had not been impressed by what Brynden had told them of Roote or Ryger, let alone Wayn. But the only banner that wasn't there was House Wayn. That was amazing.
Ranma turned to his men, a wide grin on his face. "Alright you louts! Let's get a move on, I don't know about you, but I hear a damn good meal calling my name!"
The soldiers all around him laughed, and the troops marched forward with a will as they began to hear the shouts and cheers of their fellows and even the new Riverlands forces. Units of light cavalry began to ride toward them from the camp, circling the northern host where shouts and greetings were exchanged. Watching that Ranma fell back to the end of the column, ordering Lord Shawney and Rickard to take command and to keep the men moving while he fell further and further back to meet up with Meera.
"You're not going to come forward with us to meet your lady?" Rickard asked one eyebrow rising in surprise.
"We need to make certain that the Lannisters aren't doing anything surprising, who better than me to do it?"
"You need to learn delegation Ranma." Said Rickard seriously reaching down to grip his 'nephew's' shoulder." Tell Meera to do it, she's proven her worth over the last few weeks, and you know I didn't want her with us. You cannot risk yourself like that any longer unless no one else can perform the job, and in this case Meera can. Besides, I think you and your lady should have some time together after so long apart."
Rickard didn't say that because he was a romantic. He didn't want to come out and say it, but he and he thought the other lords would very much like to see Daenerys pregnant already. Yes, he knew all the reasons why she had to be with the army, but in the end he felt that as a sign of stability you couldn't beat solidifying the line of succession.
"There are others that have been separated from their loved ones for far longer than us, uncle." Ranma said though the words came out weakly as he really did want to see Daenerys. He had missed her dearly of the last few weeks.
"But none as important as you and the queen, and again you cannot continue with this habit of risking yourself without truly good cause. Being in the forefront of the battle is one thing, leading the scouts from the front, or simply scouting around by yourself at night could also be excused considering your skills with that wolf of yours at times. But not now, not when everything is riding on the next battle, especially not since you've set the whole campaign up like that."
Ranma sighed but nodded, and waited with Rickard for Meera to catch up with them.
That was much easier than he had expected, because Meera was already coming up with the last of her scouts. She waved her bow at him, shaking her head when she saw Ranma waiting for her. "The Westerlands scouts fell back, I think a few of them got around us enough to spot the rest of the army."
Ranma nodded then when she joined them gave Meera her new orders.
Meera sighed but turned waving her hand again as she ordered the few scouts in site to fall back into the scrub with her. The last week or so had been hard on her men even in comparison to the rest of the campaign, and they had taken serous casualties. In total she only had fifteen or so trained scouts left, when she had started out with over a hundred, though thankfully half that number were missing not because they were dead but because they had been wounded and ordered to retreat to Fairmarket with Daryn.
Ranma walked at the head of his army into the combined Riverlands/Northern camp, exchanging greetings with Greatjon, who reached down out of the saddle to grasp the younger man's arm. "Damn lad, I can't believe you managed to do it, but you did!" Ranma grinned back at him then nodded greetings at the Riverlands lords and the two younger men who were probably their heirs, standing with Smalljon and Ser Barristan.
However his eyes were all for Daenerys, who was already hugging Myrcella, the two of them standing in front of a small tent. Daenerys turned to him, her violet eyes clinging to his face for a moment before she shook herself then deliberately stepped back into the tent. Merry, not noticing Daenerys look at Ranma followed her, still talking, one of her hands making a slashing motion as if describing something.
Ranma was almost in a daze as he followed her, waving his hand occasionally to acknowledge other greetings or cheers. These quickly turned into wolf whistles as the rest of the army noticed how out of it he was and where he was walking.
He entered the tent and found Daenerys and her two little ones there. Both of the dragons raised their heads, staring at him for a moment then lowering their heads once more. Neither of them had warmed to Ranma as they had to Fenris, to Sunfyre and Rhaegon Ranma was simply their mistress's mate, not their friend in his own right or anything of that nature.
But that lukewarm welcome was more than made up for when Daenerys practically leaped into his arms, her arms going around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers. After that Ranma rather lost track of time, only coming back into himself when they pulled back from one another their foreheads resting lightly against one another. "Hello, my lady." Ranma said, his voice coming out deep and throaty, his blue eyes shining with love and other, baser emotions.
"Hello my husband." Daenerys said, a tremble in her own voice as she nuzzled into his neck, her lips slightly bruised from the force of their kiss. "I realize I should be asking you what you've been up to and where the wolfsworn are or how well you think this campaign is going, but for some reason…" she laughed, "I am really having trouble caring about all that right now."
Those words brought Ranma back to himself for a moment, though his arms for some reason were refusing all his brain's commands to let Daenerys go. "We should get out there, make some show at least of still being in charge of ourselves rather than our hormones."
At that point Myrcella spoke up from one side, her face flushed from the passion she had just witnessed, as well as her own desires which had nailed her feet to the floor despite her best efforts to turn and leave the two alone. "I doubt that the army will care if you two spend some time together in here, so long as you can, um…" she blushed even deeper. "K-keep the noise down?"
"That isn't going to happen." Daenerys said shaking her head moving away unwillingly from Ranma, shivering slightly as Ranma's hand's traced her sides for a moment before reluctantly flailing away. "It would set a bad example for the troops."
"Besides," Ranma put in, one hand tracing Daenerys's back for a moment before he too grudgingly moved away. "Daenerys tends to be loud in any case."
Daenerys mock-glared at him for a moment while Myrcella laughed, and Daenerys turned to her, glaring slightly. "As if Myrcella isn't already well aware of that, or is there some other reason why you always get a room next to ours?"
Merry flushed further, stuttering for a moment, while Daenerys laughed and Ranma merely looked bewildered. Daenerys reached out, pulling Merry into another hug then turned to Ranma, her arms still around the younger girl, who's company she had missed dearly. Turning to Ranma however, her voice and face became serious again. "How long do you think it will take the Lannisters to attack us?"
"Two or three days, maybe as many as four." Ranma said, shrugging his shoulders. "We'll have that time to rest the men who were with me, believe me they need it, and not just their bodies, their minds and gear have suffered as well. All of them performed above and beyond, and we'll need to make certain they know that. Even three days is going to be pushing it. It's not only my force that's been run ragged after all."
OOOOOOO
Tywin was indeed gathering his forces together again, and had assembled his lords once more to give them their marching orders. "While I am displeased that our scouts have seen so many new banners, the army out for there simply does not have the size necessary to fight us on an even footing. At best they can only have 13,000 excluding the Riverlands forces who will no doubt surrender or turn their coats if we can smash the northerners and their true allies decisively."
For the northern host augmented by the forces of House Mallister that was actually a very accurate estimation. Given the various forces Ranma had split off since reaching Fairmarket and the losses his men had sustained, Ranma's army was a little over thirteen thousand. But as Tywin had said, the men Ranma had been leading personally up to this point had been run ragged, and would add little to his total strength.
"Moreover, the northern force we've been chasing are exhausted, they won't be ready for a pitched battle in three days or even a week. They will add nothing to the force already gathered. While we can field a force of 20,000 since we've continually made good our losses on this side of the Red Fork by pulling men up from our reserves down at the Kneeling Man's Ford." That had left the force at the Ford with a bare three thousand after the men at Stone Hedge had been moved there, but that would be more than enough to hold the ford given the defenses they had built there.
"That's true uncle." Daven said cautiously when no one else spoke up. "But they can still hurt us. Ranma has proven himself to be a wily tactician, and I'm leery of assuming that he is desperate at this point. This meeting between their two forces seems far too… lucky to be true chance. Also look at the place they've chosen to meet us, we can't flank them, which means we will have trouble bringing our numbers advantage to bear."
That was true. The area where the northerners had decided to fight was a small strip of land where the Red Fork and Blue Fork were only about half a mile apart before once more turning away from one another until they met at the Trident. Worse both rivers were deep here, so there was no chance of truly flanking the northerners. "Moreover, even in victory if Ranma hurts us too badly, we will become dangerously understrength to take on either of the Baratheon brothers."
"Not so much." Tywin disagreed though he nodded at it the younger man, respecting him slightly more for having spoken up. "Remember we still have all of the smaller guard forces in, Harroway, Harrenhal, Darry and the other castles near the Kingsroad, as well as the majority of our Riverlands allies besieging Raventree Hall. His lips twitched slightly at the younger man scowl as if he wasn't wishful to rely on such, though he understood the point. "With them we can make up any losses we might take among our army later on."
The other matter Tywin went on his voice and manner becoming much more serious is time. "This campaign is taking too long. If we give Ranma time enough to recuperate from the past few weeks, he may well cross back over the Ruby Ford and start another war of maneuver, constantly moving here there and everywhere trying to force us to break our army up again in an effort to pin him down. With the Baratheon brothers both moving on King's Landing we cannot afford to wait. We need to crush this Army quickly, and then begin our march southwards."
"While the northern army has had it almost all its own way, the portion we've been chasing have paid for it, and from what our scouts reported the other half is comprised mostly of levies that haven't thought any true pitched battle yet. They are well armored true, and their weapons seem more uniform than I expect, but such men will break at the first sign of true blood."
Beside Tywin, Stafford spoke up as well. "Also consider that the eastern Riverlands houses made that initial deal with us because they didn't have the stomach for war. If they start to take losses, they may well retreat entirely. One sharp battle here, and the Northern/Riverlands alliance could crumble."
Tywin didn't like the man but he had a point. "Indeed, so that is what we will do. The second and third echelons are only a day and a half's distance if they force march to join us. I've already sent runners to them, we will gather our forces through the rest of the day and the night, then attack at dawn."
Tywin didn't know it, but even his thoughts had been influenced by the long, somewhat fruitless campaign so far, which his men had taken to call hunting the wolf. The northerners had never allowed the Westerlanders to pin them in place, and had won all of the small skirmishes, though they had obviously taken losses, particularly from Lord Plumm's night attack.
But the fruitless chase had ground on Tywin's nerves, particularly when he knew that Renly had reached King's Landing weeks back. His daughter and son were trapped in this hellhole, and here Tywin was, chasing after an enemy that would rather dance around and avoid battle than fight! No, Tywin felt it best to end this now, show the young Stark that there was a difference between small scale battles and real ones then move south as quickly as possible.
Actually, Tywin had underestimated the amount of time it would be necessary to allow for his army to come together completely. The two other echelons were still trickling in well into the evening of the next day, so he was forced to put off a battle for four days, giving the portion of the northern army precious time to recuperate from the past three weeks..
That wasn't good, but,Tywin reflected that the numbers and moreover the composition of the two forces were heavily in his favor. His scouts reported that the Eastern Riverlands houses only had added about three thousand to Ranma's army, the majority of which were infantry and archers, and only House Blanetree's troops, of which there were a scant hundred, were veterans. Whereas Tywin's army was mostly comprised of veterans, and had a massive force of heavy cavalry with which to shatter the Northern line. Once that was done, his numbers would tell, and the Young Wolf would finally be brought to heel.
OOOOOOO
Four days after the northern army reformed the sound of drums in the distance signaled that the Lannisters were preparing themselves for battle, and were quickly answered by the horns of the northern and Riverlands army. Ranma sat on Fenris' back on a small rise in the army camp, staring out through his spyglass at the Lannister forces that were preparing their lines.
He smiled grimly. You seem to think bigger is better Lord Tywin, something I'd thought seeing your past campaigns, but I'm about to prove to you once and for all that quality beats out quantity every time.
Without looking away from the view, he began to give out his orders for the coming battle. "I want the archers on either flank with the Riverlands forces to protect them. Smalljon, you and I will command the irregular infantry. We'll go forward to meet their initial charge, but I want every sergeant to know the signal for retreat, and when we do I want that retreat to be an organized one, not a rout."
Now he turned fixing, Smalljon with a glare. "Make certain they understand that. That will be the most dangerous part of this battle when we have to retreat through the pike."
Smalljon nodded grimly and Ranma turned to his friend's father. "Greatjon, you and lord Rickard are to take command of the heavy. Split them into two formations and station them behind the archers on either flank. Keep them back, I don't want them called in until after the Lannisters have been broken."
"You're making the assumption that they will break." said Ser Blanetree dubiously. "I have to tell you that whatever you think you've seen, the Westerlanders do not lack for courage."
Ranma shook his head. "You haven't seen what a pike regiment on the attack can do, no one has really. Trust me, the Lannisters will break, or die. Patrek, I'd like you to be my signalman for this battle."
The heir to house Mallister paused, cocking an eyebrow as he seemed to read more into that question than the actual words. He was right: Ranma had been impressed by Patrek, who had stood by his side in several of the battle they had fought already in this campaign. While his skills were nowhere close to a wolfsworn, he was decent enough, and better young enough to keep learning.
Eventually Patrek nodded and Ranma turned to Lord Mallister. "Jason, you'll be in charge of the reserves, they'll be your man and those of mine that have already been in battle these past few weeks. I don't want them committed too soon to the battle, so keep them back at all if at all possible. Whatever you do, keep your force between the front and Merry's hospital center."
Jason nodded, not showing any of his own worry. He hadn't seen the pike regiment in action yet either, in fact even Ranma hadn't, but he knew they would work. You created a weapon for me Jon, he thought to himself. Now it's time to show Westeros what the word 'soldier' really means.
"When do you want the crossbowmen committed?" Daenerys asked, once again wearing a concealing hood as she stood behind Ser Barristan.
"Push them forward with the hikes," Ranma said after a moment's thought. "They know what they're supposed to do?"
She nodded. "Lord Mallister, Ser Barristanand I have had been training them with the crossbows ever since the weapons arrived." Those men had been chosen from among the best of the archers from the Riverlands, and while they hadn't exactly taken to their new weapons the striking power of the crossbow had seduced them.
Ranma nodded grimly. He did not give any commands to any of the Riverlands lords that his wife had brought to their banner. He'd gotten to know them over the past few days, and agreed with Daenerys on her impression of all of them. Ranma liked Ser Blanetree, a thorough going professional warrior, but he had the sort of anger in him that would make controlling him tough.
He also liked Vincent and Tristan. The first, he had potential the kind of potential that Ranma was eager to put to work on various projects. Tristan wasn't a deep thinker, but he was loyal, and more importantly loyal to the Tullys, specifically Edmure, which was enough for Ranma. Their father though, Ranma didn't like him very much, far too self-serving and a bit of an ass-kisser, much like Roote only somewhat better at hiding it. Old Wayn, well he was old and tired, Ranma couldn't hate him, but couldn't like him either.
Ranma looked off into the distance as he heard the bugles of the Lannisters bellowing once more. "Let's get to it gentlemen, ladies."
With that they all raced off to their positions, though Lord Roote and Lord Ryger took a moment to pull Silas to one side. "Why is the youngster so confident? Do you know? I've seen his Pike regiment's doing their pretty marching, but surely he doesn't think that's going to translate into a battle."
Silas Shawney however laughed at his concerns. "There is one thing I've learned from watching Ranma over the past few weeks, it's never to gamble against him. Trust me, he'll win this."
OOOOOOO
About an hour later the battle began. Archers on both sides began to pepper one another and the front of the infantry lines, while the Lannisters began to advance. Despite their advantage in numbers the Westerlands archers had the worst of it from the get-go, not just because they were advancing with their army into their opponent's fire, but because their bows were of such poor size and power in comparison to the northern ones. While the Westerlands bows were actually better for skirmishes, because the size of the northern bows made using them in dense forests a little more difficult, the northern bows simply had far more power and range.
Against the light armor of the infantry and the archers this was proving deadly. At long range of course even northern bows couldn't penetrate plate, but only one in ten infantrymen had plate armor among the Westerlands forces. More than one archer among them noticed that the armor of the Northerners seems to be of much higher quality than was normal for any infantry force, though many had already reported this.
The Westerlands forces advanced, those who had them holding up shields to block the arrows coming at them marching on waiting until they were in charging distance to pick up the pace. Halfway towards the northern army, the northern army responded, the irregular infantry moving out forming its own line of battle.
Behind the irregular infantry the pike regiments began to form from the clumps and clusters that they had been kept in before this in order to not get even a hint of what they really were to the Lannisters. Even now the pikes were held dragging along the ground so that their true size could be discerned from a distance.
It worked too. Behind his army Tywin was once more set up on a small platform and he smiled grimly. The Stark brat doesn't trust his levy forces to hold instead he's using them as his secondary line there, but he's underestimated our own numbers I think. If we can win the initial clash with the better trained armsmen of that first line coming out to meet ours, we might be able to sweep the board quickly.
Moments later the two waves of infantry met, the Westerlands forces having the numbers, but not the training or the armor of their opponents. Ranma charged at the center of their forces with Patrek beside him. Fenris for once was not with his bonded human. He had stayed to help Daenerys keep her dragons under control when the sounds of battle reached him. Ice carved a bloody ruin while he roared. "Winter is coming!"
This shout was taken up all along the line, and for a moment the light infantry held their fellows. Then more Westerlanders came up, pushing through here and there and even encircling small clumps of Riverlands in northern infantry. The northern infantry began to give way grudgingly. At the center Ranma looked to his right as a bugle from the northern flank sounded, signaling that they were being in danger of being cut off on that side. He nodded at Patrek and said "signal slow retreat, then signal the light cavalry in on the northern flank."
Patrek nodded, his bloody sword falling to his side for a moment as he grabbed up the horn that had been riding at his hip, putting it to his lips and blowing out two long blasts then five more short one in quick succession. All around them the light infantry began to slowly give ground, but seeing Ranma still there, snarling at their enemies not a one of them broke.
With Smalljon holding the south side and Ranma holding the center the northern side was really the only flank that was in danger of breaking. Unfortunately Tywin could tell that just as well as Ranma. He ordered his men in on that side, almost breaking the infantry line there before the northern light cavalry smashing into them from their own flank. That part of the battle devolved into a general melee for a few seconds, but Lord Shawney, in charge of the light cavalry, understood the plan well enough to keep his force under control and pulled them back after the infantry line stabilized. He still lost hundreds of men however.
Even in the midst of his own battle at the front of the line Ranma could feel the sense the tide of battle, the balance of it. He and Patrek held the line for a moment, while around them the shield wall of both sides clashed, both sides taking losses as Ranma let his body move by itself for a moment while he concentrated on reading the flow of battle.
After another moment Ranma held up one hand and said "by the numbers Patrek!"
Ranma stepped forward slightly to one side guarding Patrek who fell back allowing wringing out his shield arm, wincing as the pain of a broken bone hit him. Even so he was still able to lift the horn to his lips. This time he blew one long blast followed by two short ones and another long blast.
Around them the light infantry forces of the Northerners, trained constantly drilled on the march down from the north and even more so when they were in camp on the other side of the Ruby Ford, responded with alacrity. Each group leader or sergeant as Ranma called themhad been assigned a number. Now those with odd numbers fell back, much like when Daryn's force had been ambushed by the wildlings north of the Wall.
Yet at the same time the archers, who had been splitting fire along the entire front as well as against their fellows suddenly changed fire aiming only at the infantry along the front ranks. Men fell screaming as hundreds of arrows began to sluice down like rain into their ranks, the Northerners combined fire in one area of the battle proving disastrous to the Westerlanders.
Ranma grabbed Patrek shoulder and shouted in his ear in order to be heard over the continued clamor of battle and the screams of the wounded. "I think it's our turn my friend!" Patrek laughed, in the two of them fell back with the last groups.
On the other side of the battle Tywin grimaced angrily but then bellowed orders. "Their center is breaking, call up the heavy cavalry and get them in there! If we can break them, and their levy forces behind them, the Riverlanders on their flanks will break as well, and this battle will be ours!"
Orders went out to that effect, and the Westerlands infantry gratefully moved aside for their betters.
By this point Ranma and Patrek had reached the first line of pike, passing through their ranks like the rest of the light infantry. After they passed, the pikes closed ranks and Ranma stopped, handing Ice over to Patrek for a moment. "Don't lose it." He said semi-seriously.
While Patrek raced on with Ice in its sheath under one arm Ranma reached down to pick up a pike and take his position with the rest. That sight won a round of cheers from many of the pikemen around him, who had of course been nervous. This was not only going to be their first battle for many of them, but all of them knew that Ranma's entire strategy was based off how well they would perform. That was quite a load on their shoulders, all of whom were smallfolk levies or had been before Jon molded them into the soldiers they were now: men who had been trained from the start to work together, to see themselves as parts of a unit, not individual warriors.
Ranma didn't have enough time to make a speech, nor did he have the inclination. He simply raised his Pike, holding it upright on his shoulder. All around him and all throughout the regiments the pikemen changed their grips to match his own, the flashes of steel radiating outwards for a moment. Ranma looked around and simply said. "Here they come boys, who will stand with me!?"
He was answered with a roar, and a moment later he bellowed "Pikes down!" That shout was taken up by all the troop leaders and sergeants, and the pike regiments of the North lowered their blades. "Prepare to receive!"
When the pike shafts came down, the Westerlands heavy cavalry was no longer faced with what they had thought was a week line of barely trained levies armed with polearms, but a trained and prepared force who worked together and stood their ground with a level of discipline that had never truly been seen in the Westerlands or even in the eastern lands. The only comparison could be made to the Golden Company or the Unsullied, but even they didn't have the mix of weapons and armor of that the Houses Stark and Cerwyn had created.
A Pike regiment wasn't a simple line of pike, but a wall of steel made up of four rows of pikemen thrusting their pikes forward. Even if you got past the first row of Pike, you couldn't get past the second or the third or the fourth, you could get at the people wielding the Pike.
A pike had even longer range than a Lance wielded by a cavalry man, and now the Westerlands nights and mounted arms man learned this to their cost. Hundreds, possibly thousands died in that brief clash. Then it got worse.
"At the March!" Ranma bellowed, his pike out thrust, slamming into a knight with such force it penetrated his plate armor and threw him out of the saddle. His horse tried to bolt, but they were packed so tightly that the horses couldn't get away. Then all around him the pikemen began to follow Ranma's relayed orders and began to move forward, their pikes outstretched in front of them, hammering slicing and thrusting into the cavalry who were no longer trying to break their lines but were instead trying to get away.
However, the crossbow men had also gone to work at the same time. All of them had been ordered to follow the pikes as closely as possible and aim at any mounted man who was wearing better armor than most or was riding directly under a banner. Their rate of fire wasn't anywhere near what an equal number of archers could've done, but their quarrels hit with punishing force, penetrating even the best plate armor, which could've turned even the arrows of the northern longbows. The Westerlands lost over a dozen Knights, Heirs and more than a few Lords in that first few ferocious moments of combat. Heavy cavalry had always attracted such, and an in-battle assassination like this was an entirely new tactic.
Twenty minutes after they charged into the pikes the Westerlands cavalry broke. No, it didn't break, it shattered. One moment it had been charging forward certain of its power and victory, then their fortune had been completely reversed. The men were shocked, astonished at the brutal way their momentum had been halted, a fifth of the number had died in those first few moments. The horses were terrified by the smell of blood and the screams of the dying horses all around them, and dozens of their leaders were gone as well. They shattered, streaming away in ones and twos from the battle back through their own ranks of infantry
Behind them the Pike regiments marched on. Here and there the Westerlands cavalry messed up their own infantry's line, their horses out of control, or their riders so panicked they didn't realize they were now trampling over a few of their own men.
And then those lines of infantry him were also faced with two pike regiments on the march. Even against infantry, the sheer number of pikes, the density of the regiment's front worked their deadly toll. Here and there men could get under the first line or even the second, but not the third or the fourth, and even in the few places that occurred, they ran into the men of House Mallister who Jason had ordered forward to guard the Pike regiments up close. And behind them were the archers, still firing at the Westerlanders, and Ranma's heavy cavalry, only about two-thousand, five hundred men, waiting to be unleashed while cheering on their fellows.
Tywin watched all this in shocked horror, and he suddenly realized, or thought he realized, what Ranma's goal had been all along. Stark wanted me to attack him here he thought his thoughts cold yet shocked at the same time. He didn't want to face me at the fortifications we threw up at the Kneeling Man's Ford, all that dancing around even his initial split of his army possibly was to entice me to come out and attack him. After all, the Young Wolf doesn't care what happens further south, he must've known I was feeling the pinch of time and would jump at the chance to defeat his forces in smaller lots. And he wanted to use those polearms against us. By the Seven, where did he get the idea for those?
Even as he watched the sides of the Pike regiment sprouted even more Pike thrusting out on a diagonal protecting its flanks while its front crunched into his army's middle. The archers of the North had also won their dual with his own, forcing his own archers to fall back in disarray though his troops ranks with hundreds dead in comparison to only dozens on the other side. And Tywin could see panic beginning even at the outskirts of the army.
"Sound retreat." Tywin said his voice like ice.
"My Lord, we still outnumber them." Said Stafford.
Tywin turned, slapping the other man hard on the face sending him sprawling to the ground of the platform he had been using to survey the battle. "Fool! Those polearms have ripped the heart out of our army! We have nothing that can get through to the men behind them, the only way we can battle them is by exhausting them, surely those weapons are too long for them to be very quick on the march. No, we'll pull back entirely, then dare them to come at us on the other side of the Kneeling Man forward.
"That's days away from here my lord, but you're right I don't think those pike units we very good in in the chase. We'll still have to deal with the northern cavalry though." Lord Brax said, ignoring where Stafford had been sent sprawling.
"If we don't start to pull back now, we won't have an army left regardless. Do as I command." Tywin said coldly.
The Westerlands reserve force was comprised of about 3000 infantry and another two hundred heavy cavalry which Tywin had husbanded up to this point. Now they served as a rallying point for the rest of the army, falling back in good order and setting an example for their fellows, though many of the Westerlanders weren't in a position to respond. Even so, breaking off the battle was tough, made even harder when the heavy and light cavalry of the Northern army was loosed to do it's deadly work.
Beyond the general flow of the battle Ranma couldn't tell that much detail from where he was in the front line so he had switched out with Smalljon only a few moments into the pike regiments' advance. His going hadn't caused any sort of consternation, his joking shout of "you boys have got this, but I need to kick the rest of the army in the ass!" had actually won him a few laughs from the embattled men around him.
Now he stood on his own raised platform, frowning angrily. "Send a runner to Greatjon and my uncle. I want the cavalry to go around the edges of the pike regiments but I want them to be controlled. Tywin is keeping too much control over there, we won't finish that army off today."
Daenerys stood at the back of the platform, looking over it with her own spyglass hitting even now. Below her hands were Sunfyre and Rhaegon, pressed down lightly with both of her hands while Fenris lay in front of them growling slightly aiding her in controlling them. The sound of battle in the blood smell had reached even back here was getting to both dragons, and their instincts were urging them into the air but their time had not yet come. "We've broken them though, that army knows it's been beaten, and beaten badly. Should we use my dragons now, do you think?"
Ranma shook his head. "No, I don't want your dragons to be used in the field, not against a foe that's already beaten. Remember that our own men might come to fear them if we seem too eager to use them. We'll keep with the original plan for their debut."
Daenerys nodded grimly, remembering that part and inwardly happy for another few weeks to keep training her little ones on dodging. After all, they were so young their scales didn't offer much protection, and their wings would be extremely vulnerable to enemy archers. Plus, they would have to come much closer to target men who could no doubt see them coming and dodge. Besides, Ranma's right, just think of how Lord Mallister would react.
For his part Ranma was wondering how the rest of his strategy was going. "Now it all depends on what Jon and Arya have been able to do, and what Tywin's reaction will be. If Tywin retreat from that position on the other side of the Kneeling Man's Ford, we can harry him out of the Riverlands. If he doesn't," he looked down at Daenerys grimly, "Your little ones will be used against him there."
It would have surprised anyone else, but Daenerys understood why that thought horrified Ranma. Ranma didn't want to slaughter his enemies, well not their men anyway, he would have no problem gutting Joffrey like a fish, or ripping Stannis' head off and tossing it into the ocean. But he saw no reason to extend that hatred toward the armsmen who were simply following their vows, or to the levy forces who'd had no choice but joining up. He wanted to break Tywin, he didn't want to slaughter his army to a man.
On a more pragmatic level there were two considerations. First, if Ranma could force that army to surrender, or even portions of it, he would immediately have a ready force of workmen for any projects he needed work on. In the back of Ranma's mind there was always the fact that he knew winter was coming, when food and transportation of said would be of paramount importance. He needed at least the two canal projects they were already working on to be finished before winter came, and he needed enough people to move out into the fields after this war and start farming again. This was especially true since autumn had been declared while he was baiting the lion.
Second, Ranma had learned back in Fairmarket that the Westerlanders had both suborned and reinforced several of the castles on the other side of the Red Fork and Trident. He did not want to get bogged down in the same kind of battles he'd been facing these past few weeksand he hoped that by letting Tywin go for now he would be forced to call in those small holding forces. Whether or not he would then seek battle again, or would still remain on the defense and force Ranma to use the dragons against him, or if the rest of Ranma's strategy took, Ranma didn't know yet.
Daenerys nodded grimly, and two of them went back to watching the rout continue.
OOOOOOO
There was a dead body in a small alleyway in Fleabottom. This wasn't abnormal in the best of times in Fleabottom, and now was not the best of times. But what was abnormal, had anyone noticed it, was that this body didn't seem to have a mark on it, save for some blood around the mouth. It lay there in its own sick, and rats began to eat at it, unremarked by any. But soon, soon it would be important for thousands.
End chapter
I have some five thousand words of the next chapter done, but I feel that I wasn't doing the next few battles/events justice in my head. The strategy and flow of this chapter were very hard to work out, but I think I did it justice. Arya started to shine here, and she will do so even more in the next chapter.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review, the soup and salad of the writer.
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