The battle was over, the battle was won.
The Tarly forces had surrendered once their lords head rolled on the ground. Most of them were in chains. A force of 10,000 men cut down to 2,000. What were we going to do with 2,000 men? Send them back home of course, nothing else we could do.
There you are!
My heart nearly broke at the sight of him. A part of me had hoped he would still be alive once I got back. I would have saved him if I could. I don't care if he never would have ridden again. I could have given him a life full of food, lands, and mares to breed.
But no, Gimli had already bled out.
The Valyrian Steel sword in my hand was little consolation for it. I held it up with one hand on the hilt, and another on the blade. It was almost an exact copy of the great sword I had been practicing with since Storm's End. The coincidence, or perhaps fate, was not lost on me.
The biggest surprise to me was the weight of the sword. It was as light as any sword I had ever wielded. The balance was perfect, as to be expected. It was simply amazing.
And beautiful too. The blade was not the same that the shows had portrayed. The shows had it long and wide, a true greatsword. The one in my hands was barely bigger than a longsword. The hilt was the only real accuracy of the shows. I could fit both hands comfortably on it, plus another 2 inches.
An honorable man would return the sword to House Tarly.
But they had taken my horse.
Heartsbane is the only payment I will accept for Gimli.
"How are you?" I asked as I saw Ben walking towards me.
His left forearm was wrapped up from the wound he had sustained at the hands of Randyll Tarly.
"It is barely a scratch." Ben said as he held his arm up. "I'll be holding a shield in no time."
"You'll wait a month at best, four if I had my way." I told him seriously as I examined the wound. Heartsbane had cut down to the bone, leading to a small fracture. Luckily it hadn't done any more damage. The cut was clean, and easy to sew. We would just have to keep it clean and be careful.
This is when I wish I had made that distillery. The alcohol would prove invaluable.
"Four months?!" He spat, more surprised than angry. "The healers said a few weeks." He retorted.
"The healers are not your lord." I responded. Very rarely did I pull rank like that, but I certainly would when it came to letting him heal. If he was too rough on it, he would lose his entire arm and that's if he was lucky.
Ben's jaw clenched, but he did not respond to that. "The men are ready to leave." Ben muttered as he confirmed what I had sent him to do last night and this morning.
Finally I saw our destination.
The castle of Ashford was a plain one, but a fine place to stay when one had been on the road for as long as we had. As I approached the seat where Robert sat, I felt my anger growing.
In the books, we would already be scrambling to the Stoney Sept where we would lie in wait for the Vale and the North to save us from the advancing Jon Connington.
Our victory at Ashford changed everything, however. It was making the Stormlords cocky, and I aimed to curb that immediately.
Four guards parted as I walked in the great hall of Ashford, where Robert was sitting. All of them bowed their heads towards me, showing me respect that I didn't have two days ago.
"My Lord." They muttered as I passed them.
"Petyr! Bahahahah the Hero of Ashford, Deadlyfinger, take your pick. The men sing your name by the campfires at night." Robert greeted, in his typically happy mood.
He was drunk, this early in the morning, and that caused my anger to rise even further.
"Get off of your ass!" I spat towards him.
Roberts face sobered immediately and it turned into an angry one to match my own.
"What did you say to your Lord!?" Robert bellowed as he stood up.
"What the fuck are we still doing here? Mace Tyrell has 70,000 men that will be here tomorrow if we are lucky, tonight if we are not!" I yelled back at him, ignoring his question.
"Hold your tongue!" Lord Roger had apparently gotten close to me during my impromptu screaming match with Robert.
He had challenged me for the last time, and I was not in the mood to deal with his shit. My right fist flew through the air and landed on his ugly fucking jaw. The old Storm lord crumpled and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Swords were drawn from two other lords that had been eating breakfast before.
"Guards." I shouted to the men behind me. They perked up and stood a little straighter. "Get this man on a cart, we leave as soon as our Lord finds a horse!" I told them, in the kind of tone that promised pain should they disobey.
There were benefits to being the Hero of Ashford, and the commander that drilled the men everyday.
I pointed to the two men with their swords still in their hands. They had yet to advance towards me. Most likely because of the stories people sang of Randyll Tarly's demise at my hand.
"You two better join him, or I will leave you here. Robert! You have been in here for two days! The men are loaded and ready to move. Am I going to have to drag you onto a cart next to Lord Rogers or will you comply?!" I roared as the guards dragged the unconscious Lord Rogers away.
Robert dropped the cup in his hand and immediately began walking down the steps towards me. The look on his face was one of wrath. I noticed the way he walked, and my earlier assessment of him being drunk was wrong. Robert was completely sober and I wasn't sure if it was reassuring or pissed me off even more.
He walked up to me, chest bowed out. Eventually, I was staring up at his massive 6 and a half foot frame. I held his eyes without fear the entire time. If I backed down, he would go and sit back down on his 'throne', and allow us to be overrun by the Tyrell's. That couldn't happen.
He began nodding his head, and eventually he broke eye contact. He turned his shoulders, and I knew what he planned to do. It was an obvious move.
He stopped abruptly, balled a fist and swung.
I resolved myself to take the blow, although I wish I wouldn't have. My head snapped to the side, and I stumbled two steps away from him. My head immediately got fuzzy for a good five seconds as it tried to deal with the punishment that Robert just dealt out.
I did not bring a hand up to my aching jaw. I did not cry out in pain.
All I did was gain my feet underneath me, shake my head slightly, and then look back to him with the same mean look on my face.
"Do not ever do that again." Robert said as he pointed his meaty fingers at me.
"Done." I answered quickly. Now that I had his attention, I dropped the anger inside me, trying to manipulate him into falling back into friendly terms. "Now are you ready? Your army awaits you." I asked as I waved a hand in the direction of the exit.
"Yes." Robert said as he looked away from me and to Ben.
Ben had been completely silent the entire time, only decided to watch the happenings. At some point he had stuck himself between Robert and I and the other stormlords in the hall. His intentions were clear.
Ben 'Red' Rivers had earned himself a reputation as well.
"Good, to the Riverlands."
I moved the men at a grueling pace.
Two days worth of rest and plentiful food had done wonders to the infantry. They were well rested, battle tested, and without a doubt the deadliest force in Westeros.
"Why the spears?" Robert asked as rode beside the men, just as we had after he gave me command of the infantry.
"Did you see what happened to the cavalry when we charged from behind the army?" I asked him. I knew he had been fighting, but I wasn't sure if he had been paying attention.
"No, all I saw was your horse fall." Robert answered as he studied the men beneath us.
"He saw what we did to his flank upon the initial charge. Randyll was not a bad commander." I clarified before continuing. "He adapted. He lined his spearman up on the other side, and when we approached they threw their spears. That is how we lost half of our cavalry, not the ambush, not the fighting, in one smart decision he cut our cavalry in half. I am not too proud to integrate tactics into our own men, are you?" I asked.
Robert shook his head. "No. It is a good plan."
I had other reasons of course. But he didn't need to know that.
Commander Talents: Infantry, Conquering, Attack.
Commander Skills (Legendary):
Unrelenting Charge! (Passive!)
Troops under your command charge headstrong into battle giving them 10% strength and 10% stamina! Infantry troops receive 20% strength, 20% Stamina!
This City is Mine! (Passive!)
While attacking a city, troops under your command will fight with unrivaled bravery. Troop attack increased by 15%! Infantry attack increased by 20%! Defenders receive -10% morale. The city walls will be 10% weaker.
Skillful Maneuver! (Passive!)
Troops under your command receive a 20% increase in mobility. Infantry units receive an additional 20%!
Heavenly Thrust! (Active!)
Your troops release a volley of spears into the enemy dealing massive damage. Damage factor of 1500!
Expertise Skill unlocked!
Heavenly thrust damage is increased from 750 to 1500!
That was the main reason for looting the dead Tarly soldiers of their spears. My active skill a fucking beast, and it required my men to have spears. Or at least I thought it did. I wouldn't expect the game to just magically deal the damage to the enemy troops, whatever that meant.
"Can I tell you something, Petyr?" Robert asked, randomly and out of nowhere.
"Of course." I answered truthfully.
"I mean to take the throne." Robert said, seemingly out of nowhere.
Of course I already knew this, but at this point nobody had declared anything. Robert was the most obvious choice, as he had an actual claim to the throne, through marriages and the like. Wasn't his grandmother a Targaryen or something?
"You have the best claim." I answered truthfully.
"Claim?" Robert spat after he said the word. "Fuck blood claims. I will claim it by conquest. We will claim it by conquest Petyr." Robert said as a smile graced his face. He reached across the distance between our horses and smacked me on the back.
I couldn't help but smile at that. It was pure honesty, and would be what everyone thought about after the war was done. Only the Maesters and the Citadel would care about the blood rights to the throne. That was a coincidence, nothing more.
No, the real claim was the one of conquest. The same claim that Aegon himself had made when he rode in on Balerion. As it turns out, no one cares about blood if they were staring down a dragon. But truth be told, if I tried to take it for myself, nobody would follow me. I was barely a man in the rest of the Lord's eyes, and a foreigner to most.
Robert would be the only one stupid enough to want the Iron Throne, and the only one bold enough to take it for himself.
"Don't think I will forget what you've done for me Petyr. I will reward your loyalty, you can rest assured." Robert continued with a grin.
I decided to prod him a little bit for some information. That was a juicy last statement.
"May I speak my mind?" I asked, to make sure I didn't overstep too early.
"You always speak your mind, it's one of the reasons I like you so much! Yes you can speak your mind." Robert answered, in his typical no nonsense mood.
"When you take the Iron Throne, what will you do with Storm's End?" I asked. I saw my opportunity for more influence, and to manipulate Robert right then. I would take it.
"Careful Petyr, you ask for too much." Robert answered as he looked up from the marching men below us to me.
"I do not ask for Storm's End, Robert. I am not that stupid." I retorted. "I ask because you cannot rule the Stormlands from King's Landing." I told him. "Will you give it to Stannis and split the houses?" I continued.
Robert didn't answer for a moment, but his face did sour slightly. "That is my birthright." Robert replied.
"The throne is Rhaegar's birthright." I countered immediately.
"It's not the same!" Robert replied.
"Of course it's not." I agreed. "He's a kidnapper at best. But it still falls to you to decide what happens to Storm's End." I reiterated.
There was an even bigger silence then, as Robert considered what he was going to do.
"What would you do?" Robert said finally, after a few minutes of contemplation. "Speak plainly!" He added before I could answer.
"Give it to Stannis. If you take the throne, make him your heir and give him the Stormlands. If our spies are correct, Mace is marching to besiege Storm's End. If he manages to hold it, he will have earned the castle, and more." I answered quickly.
"I had considered giving him Dragonstone, and the Stormlands to Renly." Robert admitted.
So he had considered it before. Whoever says Robert is a drunk whose only good quality is the strength with which he swings a warhammer is wrong. He has some foresight to him.
"Stannis would hate you for it." I told him as I shook my head at his proclamation. "Dragonstone is little more than a playground for a Prince to learn how to rule, it holds little value to Stannis." I elaborated to explain why I said that.
"You're telling me that my brother would hate me for giving him one of the most prestigious titles in Westeros?" Robert asked, confused.
"Dragonstone is a heap of black rock. The Stormlands is a kingdom, Robert." I said, trying to put it in layman's terms.
Robert fell into more silence, allowing me to think about how to go about it.
It only just occurred to me, but Dragonstone would be a great reward for someone of my lowly standards. If only I could convince him to give it to me, instead of his heirs or Renly…
"What of Renly? I can't give my brother a Kingdom and shun the other." Robert said.
That was actually a good point, but not one I couldn't deal with. "For the third son of your father, he has more freedom and less burdens on him. Let him decide when he grows up. If he wants Dragonstone, give it to him. If he wants to fight as a Kingsguard, get him trained up and sworn in. Should he want to whore his entire life, let him. Renly isn't even a man yet." I replied.
"I'll have to think on this." Robert muttered, ending the conversation.
The longer I was in this world, the more my ambition grew. I wanted a kingdom at the very least. It didn't matter if it was the Vale, the North, Dorne, the Westerlands, etc.
But it would take years of political maneuvering, and treachery to complete. Conquest was an idea, but the Great Houses were so intertwined that if I managed to take one, I would have to defend it from no less than three, not including the crown if Robert ever decided to step in.
So how does one take a kingdom where all roads might be so hard as to call them impossible?
Make a new one, obviously.
The blade grew lighter each time I drew it.
I woke before the sun rose, and Ben and I would head to the fields to do some light sparring so that he could stay in shape without aggravating his wound. Then I would pick some poor knight that happened to be there, and I would beat him into the dirt. I was doing my best to grind 'Advanced Sword Fighting'.
The problem I had though, was that the wooden greatsword I practiced with was about double the weight of a normal sword, which made it ridiculously heavier than the Valyrian Steel sword at my waist. It was unrealistic and led to me getting a little crazy with Heartsbane. The blade was so sharp that any wrong cut could cause severe damage to myself or a comrade.
Every time I sparred with the wooden sword, I would spend at least another hour or two practicing with Heartsbane. I moved through parry's, cut's, stabs, and other essential maneuvers faster than anyone else I had ever faced.
In a one on one fight, there were very few men I would think twice about facing. Randyll Tarly was not someone I expected to put Ben, Robert, and almost myself out of commission. It showed me that my confidence in my skills might be displaced. If Randyll Tarly could do that, then what would some of the Kingsguard be able to do?
Barristan Selmy was a terrifying one to even think about going up against. Arguably the greatest swordsman to ever live, although my money is definitely on
Arthur Dayne. Both of those struck fear into me.
It was the motivation I needed on the road towards the Stoney Sept. One day, I would have to be the one to face Barristan Selmy, unless I want to sacrifice men and overwhelm him. Luckily, Arthur will protect Lyanna for the rest of the war, and then Ned can have his way with him.
But Selmy would definitely be beside Rhaegar at the Trident.
I would need to be prepared.
Advanced Sword fighting: Lvl 61
Defense Lvl 60
Offense Lvl 60
Horseback Lvl 54
I was not.
"My Lords."
I nodded and bowed slightly as I entered the war tent. Grumbles of 'Lord Baelish' and 'Deadlyfinger' were spoken as a greeting.
"Why is it you're always the last one to show up?" Robert asked as I took my place beside him looking down at the map beneath us.
He was grumpy, as I expected. Our wine stores grew thinner and thinner as the days passed. Luckily, our food stores grew as we stripped the fertile lands of the Reach. I would forever feel the weight of the stolen food on my shoulders, but it was necessary.
Not to mention Robert just received word that Storm's End had been surrounded and was currently under siege. But Davos had already stocked the castle so full of food and cattle that they would last the rest of the rebellion without missing a meal. If Stannis was smart, at least. All he had to do was wait.
Still, one would worry about family.
"I am here now, Robert." I told him, hinting that he should get on with the meeting. It's not like I was not busy planning strategies and sending scouts out.
"Bring him in." Robert called out.
Two guards walked in, with a young man in their arms. He was obviously low born, if his haircut and demeanor was anything to go by.
"Let me guess, you were caught counting our numbers." I said to everyone present. One of Robb Stark's more famous tricks had started just like this.
"The men said the same, my Lord." One of the guards answered for the captured scout.
"Spare me my lord, please! I only did it for the bounty!" The young boy frantically said. His relative calm turned to panic quickly.
"You're a long way from King's Landing." I told him, trying to get him to talk and also calm down at the same time.
"Aye, my lord."
"Exactly." Robert said.
So Connington is close, that's why Robert called the meeting. I bet he'll beat us to the Stoney Sept.
"The Mad King's army is close, Petyr." Robert said, confirming my thought process,.
I kept my gaze on the young man in front of me. "When were you last with the army?" I asked.
I steeled myself, forcing the mean and gritty part of myself to the surface. The interrogation had begun, and I would get what I wanted.
"3 days my lord. I rode hard and fast to get here." The boy answered quickly.
"And where did you part from them at?" I asked, trying to get him to keep answering quickly without time to lie.
"Where the Blackwater forks, my lord."
I had no reason to think the boy was lying, so I pushed even further to see just what else I could pry from him.
"Where were they marching to?" I continued.
That was when the boy clammed up. Realization dawned in his eyes then. Had he thought that I wouldn't try to get information from him?
"You are going to kill me." The boy said as he broke down.
"Only if you don't tell me what I want to know." I answered him. My hand fell to Heartsbane and I lightly gripped the handle. "Tell us what we want to know, and we'll fill your saddle bags with food and water. Then you may go back to Jon Connington." I told him truthfully.
"We will not!" One of the lords in the room protested, just as I had expected.
"Quiet!" I yelled before turning back to the boy.
"You will have my protection, if you tell us what you know." I told him.
He looked around the room to where the other lords were seething at me. Yet none of them objected anymore. That was a good thing, as I needed the boy to believe me and not them. I had hoped my skill in battle, and rank as commander would deter anyone from speaking out.
After a moment, the boy's head hung low. "The Stoney Sept. They were marching for the Stoney Sept." He answered, defeated. He was acting like he was a dead man.
"Good boy." I said as my hand fell from my sword. "How high did you get?" I asked randomly.
"Pardon, my lord?" He asked as his head rose to look at me.
"You were counting our numbers… how high did you get?" I asked again clearly and concisely.
"19,000 my lord." The boy answered.
"You were close. 25,000 men in total. Ride to the Stoney Sept and tell Jon Connington that we are coming for him, all 25,000 men. Tell him that you spoke to me and the Stormlords personally. Give him this message." I said as I nodded to the guards behind him. "Make sure he gets his horse and supplies."
"Are you bloody mad!?"
"Yes, my lord." The guards said as they led the boy away from the tent.
I turned to the other lords in the tent. Most were looking at me as if I had grown a second head and it was calling their mothers whores.
"He knows our numbers now!"
"You're giving away an advantage!"
"I'll kill the boy myself if you don't have the stones to do it."
Robert just watched on. I could tell he was pondering on whether or not to hear me out. Maybe he wanted to hit me again, who knows. I weathered the insults and yelling for a bit longer until I was sure the scout was gone.
"Enough." I told them as I raised my hand.
Some obeyed, others did not.
"Shut your fucking mouths!" Robert bellowed, to great effect. Everyone quieted down. "Explain yourself." Robert said as he turned to me.
"Can no one think of a single tactic we can use?" I asked, exacerbated. 'Can anyone use their fucking brains for once?' Is what I wanted to say.
The lords all looked at me with a mixture of confusion and realization. Some of them were catching on. The main one was Ser Courtney Penrose. His eyes practically lit up at the possibilities.
"Jon Connington is eager to crush this Rebellion before it can become a real threat. He has close to 50,000 men with him, almost double our numbers, and he is already fortified at the Sept. We wasted too much time in Ashford drinking and fucking about. Had we not we could have hit him when his army was tired from the hard march. Now they will be fresh and ready to fight." I told the men in the tent, but I did not stop.
"What would happen if we marched on the Stoney Sept right now?" I asked.
"We would crush them! Our men are bloodied and the best army in the Seven Kingdoms." One unimportant Lord called out.
A chorus of 'aye' filled the tent.
"You are probably right." I told him. "We could win this battle by ourselves." I nodded to them.
"But it would cost us too much. We would lose too many men. In the end, we would deplete our forces. Who would be left to march onKing's Landing? The North? The Vale?"
I spat on the ground beside me.
"They are as green as the rest of the Kingdoms."
More 'aye's' hit my ears.
"We are the key to winning this war and I will not waste our forces fighting a meaningless battle." I told them.
"Then why did you tell Connington we would." This time it was Ser Courtney that spoke up.
"He can react in one of two ways. He can take the scouts' story as true, or he can be suspicious of it. Which would you be, Ser Courtney?" I asked.
"I would be suspicious." He answered immediately.
"Exactly." I told him. "Now how can we use that to our advantage?" I asked as I laid it all out in front of them.
Courtney's eyebrows rose, and the smallest smirk appeared on his face. "What did you have in mind?"
I looked at the ceiling and fingered the hilt of Heartsbane before responding. When I responded, I couldn't help but match his grin.
"Who is guarding Kings Landing right now?"