The war machines were pushed forward on top of the carts. Ballistas that could throw a bolt further than an arrow or quarrel could do. I had been meaning to keep those things at the back, but Mern had taken that decision out of my hands when he decided to sit back and strategize.
Yeah, I could sit on this little hill until winter came but I actually had other things to do than fight this war. And wars were costly. I didn't need to drag this on more than it already was. Mern's host was the last of the forces that had tried to take a chunk out of my kingdom.
The Gardeners and Lannisters had failed spectacularly at that and instead, I had started taking chunks out of them. And I was going to be taking even more chunks.
Looking down at the carts that had been drawn in-between the ranks of pikemen, I saw a wave from each of the crews that signalled that they were ready to begin to make their attack.
Mern had been content to sit back and shift some of his forces around, baiting me to attack, but why would I? I had the defensive advantage and I also had mobile artillery that outranged his bowmen. If he didn't want to send his men to fight my men, then I will just bring the fight to him, at range.
I was a cheater and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.
"They are doing something." Ser Lyman told me though I could see the Gardener host was doing something as well, even as far away as they were.
My horse pawed at the ground underneath it and let out a heavy snort of air. He was about as restless and bored as me. "I'd think so. They would have noticed the bolt throwers. Give the order to fire."
Ser Lyman nodded and quickly indicated towards the bugler who let out a long, sharp note from his instrument. The machines thrummed and shuddered backwards upon their carts as they launched their deadly content into the distance, towards the lines of Gardener levies and men-at-arms. Some of them had even been angled to aim and strike for the amassed horse that was located directly opposite our own.
I couldn't see the damage that the ballistas had caused, but I could certainly hear the screams of men and horses alike. Those screams were joined by even more screams as more bolts that had been fired were quick to cross the distance between them and cause damage and chaos amongst the ranks.
The crews after being constantly drilled and drilled day in, day out, could probably continue to fire the ballistas with all hell being let loose around them. And they continued just to do that, minus the hell.
Ser Lyman flinched beside me.
"What was that about?" I asked.
He removed the far-eye from his eyes. "I just watched some poor fool have his head ripped off."
I blinked. "Well, at least it was a quick death." And that was really all I could say on the matter.
The damage that was being scored by our ballistas was more than enough to give the ranks and file quite a few things to cheer about as with each bolt that flew towards the enemy, pikes, halberds were raised into the air, cheers following not long after.
Kyle Vance pointed to the front. "Your Grace!"
I followed his hand and motioned for the far-eye (note to self, make an order for a whole batch of them from Myr...or learn to make some for ourselves) from Ser Lyman who passed it back to me without complaint. I brought the device to my eyes and looked at where Kyle had been pointing and noticed the banner of the Crown Prince of the Reach riding down the lines, probably trying to keep the men from breaking or something.
"That's quite brave of him." I noted. I had to give him props for that. In his glimmering white and green inlaid armour, he was but the image of the warrior prince.
It would be a shame if say, he suddenly took a bolt into the knee and died. That would certainly be a morale killer or drive Mern to do something stupid to avenge his son.
Yes, I was genuinely wishing bad thoughts for a man to see his son killed right in front of him, for no more reason because it would make this end faster than it was already going to end.
I might not be Tywin Lannister levels of cruel, but I was still something of a bastard when it came down to it. Westeros was the sort of environment that would let that sort of mentality thrive and reward you for it.
The Crown Prince was the enemy. An enemy that would have been more than glad to do the same to me.
So, fuck him and his father for dragging me into this fucking mess.
Fuck that asshole Devout for bringing war when I just wanted to be left alone.
FUCK AEGON FOR NOT FOLLOWING THE BLOODY SCRIPT AND LEAVING ME TO DEAL WITH THIS BULLSHIT!
But I ain't mad.
Honest.
A horn blew out from the left flank of the Garderner host as it began to make its first move. Unlike the centre, it seemed the commander of that flank wasn't interested in wave tactics, instead, the entire flank had started marching forward, still underneath the harassment of the ballistas.
I frowned at the sight. Their left flank was mostly levies with some undisciplined freeriders and a few hundred knights two or three hundred at the very least at the rear serving as a reserve and body guard for the prince that commanded that flank.
The flank they would hit would be where I had position my bowmen with a reserve of three pikes and one halberds. True, they would face levies and the ballistas along with the bowmen would reap a heavy toll on them until they reached a good enough distance to join with the enemy in battle.
"Get Lord Osric's men ready, they'll soon be needed to get to grips with the enemy." I told Ser Lyman who nodded and called for one of his squires who, when given the message, began to quickly ride off in the direction of were Lord Osric commanded the pikes and halberds there.
A bit outnumbered they would be, but I had faith in their arms and the fact that their weapons had a longer reach and bite to them than the spears that the levies that were bearing down at them had.
By now, our own bowmen had started raining death upon the advancing left flank, the mounted freeriders and company of knights having stopped short of the range of the bowmen but still within the range of the ballistas that fired with impunity.
To lessen their causalities, the mounted freeriders and knights loosened their closely held ranks, making space between them. Well, that was going to lessen the effectiveness of the ballistas, but they would still suffer from the attacks.
Hopefully, one of those bolts would get lucky enough to land a lucky hit on their commander, though one could wish for something like that and not see it happen. It would just be my luck for something like that to exactly happen.
Their left flank continued to advance steadily, getting closer and closer but with each step they took towards our right hundreds of men were cut down by a storm of arrows that were being loosed prodigiously by the bowmen.
I nodded my appreciation at the sight, even more so when Lord Osric's foot started marching their way towards the front from the reserve of the right flank. Ser Roland kept the bowmen firing for as long as possible before calling a halt to the proceedings and pulling his men back and allowing the pikes and halberds to set themselves accordingly.
From the shores of the river to the further pike square in the centre, a line was formed, sunlight flashing of the spikey points of the pikes as they were held at the ready to meet the enemy. Ser Roland reformed his men behind the line of archers and proceeded to continue lay a withering fire of arrows from behind the protection given to him and hers.
Despite the damage they were taking, the levies continued on forward and I figured it had something to do with the mounted men at their rear just waiting. Perhaps they thought that if they ran, they would be cut down.
Well, that was my thought until I saw one particular guy throw down his wicker shield and hoe and jump into the waters and started swimming like mad for the other shore.
I couldn't help but let out a laugh.
He was soon slowly followed by another man that had seen him do as he did and jumped into the waters as well and started swimming for the other shore. Then another. And another.
I was quite surprised that the mounted men didn't move up to try and discourage such an act.
Although it was nice to see them breaking before they had even joined combat, it was already a little too late as a roar of defiance came from the front of the ranks as they broke into a run as they surged forward, screaming, shouting and whooping as they did so.
The pike wall braced itself as they prepared to meet the enemy that threw themselves at the pikes of my men.
I nodded as I watched the assault being held off by the pike wall. The crossbowmen moved forward and started firing in-between the pike wall and into the mass of enemies that was so conveniently massing right in front of them.
This was probably going to be the easiest target practice they would ever get. They really couldn't miss with the mass of humanity that was braying for their blood right in front of them.
***
"Cowards!" Ser Jonas of the Order of the Green Hand cursed as he glared angrily at another group of levies that had thrown away their weapons to take flight into the river and swim across. "Come back and fight for your prince! For your king!" He raged at them, his voice a great booming thing through the holes of his great helm.
Prince Gawen palced a hand on the knight to calm him. "At ease ser, what is done is done. They saw what happened to their fellows in the centre. They are tired. Hungry. This was bound to happen."
His entire command was beginning to fall apart right in front of him and he doubted there was anything that he could do. The months long marching with near empty stomachs and harassment from the riverlanders had been enough to put all the men at edge.
The signs had been there.
As they continued to make their march north, more and more men had been slipping away in the dead of night. It was until the last few weeks that it had been even more noticeable were entire patrols of men would disappear on their watch, whether the work of the riverlanders that had been hounding them every step of the way or by their own volition was up to the gods to decide.
Morale had been bad enough among the host, but now, it was even worse. The riverlanders had chewed up Father's probing attacks and spat them back out bloody and broken with little to show for it and hardly any losses on their part.
Gawen was a prince yes. He liked to think himself charismatic enough for his duties, but he was no god.
Even he saw a situation that they couldn't come back from.
Ser Jonas didn't believe him though. "If we got closer, flew your banner, that would surely rally the men!"
From the corner of his eyes, he saw a bolt fly overheard some paces away from him and the scream of both men and horse. What kind of mad man used siege weapons in open battle?
"True," said Prince Gawen as he nodded his head in agreement with the knight and his royal protector for this battle. "But they could easily turn around and bare the weapons on us. It is simply better for us to just stay here. And anyway, we are merely to keep the bowmen of the Tullys focused on our flank instead of the centre where the main assault will begin."
That was an oversight on the Tully king, putting the majority of his bowmen on one flank. The other battles had bowmen yes, along with those ballistas of theirs, but not enough to truly cause trouble as Edmund moved the main battle forward to engage the enemy.
His levies had already passed him with his reserve of men-at-arms and knights arrayed in a loose formation creeping forward slowly behind the main face of his battle.
This wasn't going to be the bit part probes his father had sent, no, this was going to be the full might of the reach host come to take the riverlanders by the throat. Preferably before their own host decided to make a break for it and run for the hills like many of his own battle had done.
"Hold you damn fools, hold!" His other royal protector, Ser Gavin Tyrell bared his teeth angrily at their battle as it threw itself as the wall of pikes that continued to hold steady despite the onslaught and those bowmen of theirs continued to take reap a bloody harvest with their volleys. "Just keep them pinned for a little whilst longer."
The man was frustrated like many others in his company and that of the host. This entire campaign was beginning to get to them and the continued defiance of the riverlanders did not help matters at all.
By now, a veritable stream of men were trying to swim their way across the river and making a mad dash for it to the south. Gawen would be surprised if even one of those men were able to find their way back to their villages and towns in the reach without their lords to guide them.
'Cowards...' He thought to himself as he began to edge his horse forward, he had to stop the leak that was coming from his flank, lest this attack fail. "Prepare to move up!" He ordered as loudly as he can.
"Finally!" Ser Jonas' voice boomed from inside his greathelm and he could feel the knight's grin as he rode beside him. "Time to end this farce once and for all."
They weren't going to do that of course. They were just going to get close enough to the rear of the vanguard and kindly remind them that their lords and prince were there and running was unbecoming of men of the reach.
And anyway, he doubted their horse would be able to get past that morass of men without riding down their own men and that would make things worse.
By now, he had passed his brother's lines where he kept his reserve and into the range of the longbows of the riverlanders that had started peltering them with arrows. Gods, how many arrows did they have?
A knight that bore the two red apples of the Fossoways of Cider Hall had his horse fall underneath him as it took a couple of arrows into its unprotected head. The knight let out a blood curling scream as his leg was crushed underneath the weight of the beast.
Gawen thanked the gods that his own war horse had far more protection than the Fossoway.
Somewhere, a horn blew, long and loud enough to carry itself over the sounds of battle. It seemed as if the entire battlefield had come to a halt as the horn continued to make a sound that seemed more at home as the dying breath of a man.
Then it stopped.
Gawen looked around as the world resumed and the men started fighting once more.
'What was that about?'
Perhaps King Mern was finally beginning to move the chivalry of the reach forward to face their own enemy. It didn't matter, he had his own battle to oversee.
***
Their outriders had been easy enough to dispatch. In fact, they didn't need to dispatch many of them. Most of them had taken to the winds the moment they had been away from the gaze of their lords and knights.
It had allowed them to sneak upon the backs of the reach host with ease.
If he was a caring man, he would have said some words about how these reachmen had gone about with this battle. They surely knew that he and his men continued to exist, harrying them in the back, striking at their foragers, at their outriders and scouts.
If it had been him, he would have wasted no expense in making sure that he and his men were dead or driven away from the place of battle for as many leagues as possible. Leaving such a force unchecked would do nothing but spell disaster.
If he was a dramatic man, he would call himself that sort of disaster that called for such a situation.
But Ser Garret Ryger was not a caring man or a dramatic man. He was simply a man. Loyal to the oaths he made and nothing more.
His own outriders had noticed the coming of King Edmyn's host from the west road that led to Pinkmaiden. If the king had chosen to march back south, it surely meant that battle was soon to be joined.
In that time, he had let a few of the men the king had left with him to roam about and continue to harass the reachmen whilst he regrouped with the rest of his men whilst recruiting from the locale to build up his forces.
Ser Garret controlled a good company of four hundred men with him. Half of them were the veteran knights and mounted men that he had served with in this war but the rest were the farm boys and spare sons that had run out in search of glory or earn themselves a place in a knight's or lordlings retinue.
"Hold," He breathed out as they edged ever forward from the protection of the woods. He pointed at the great banner that had been set in the centre. "That right there, that is our target. First man to bring their king to me gets a reward from His Grace himself."
He hated himself for making such blatant ploys to instill courage, but the lesser folk had to truly fight for a reward at the end of this all if they were going to be truly useful. Even if they were going to be nothing more than fodder for him and his men to actually do the butcher's work.
They didn't need to capture Mern.
They just needed to cause enough chaos and confusion behind his ranks for this battle to be theirs.
"Now!"
His squire blew the horn and the men sprang forth, war horses riding forward amongst plough horses the farm boys had brought with them.
Ser Garret worked at his horse carefully, making sure that he didn't work at it too much. He would need to conserve as much strength the old girl would be able to save for the butchers work that was to come soon.
The reach host had brought themselves quite the trailing of washer women, whores and other assorted camp followers, but those weren't their targets. King Edmyn would have disapproved of such. He found camp followers unnecessary and slowed down an army.
But the camp that had been set up wasn't their target. So, they ignored the camp as they rode past it, past the screams of women and children and other folk.
It did not take them long to take to the rear of their enemies. He had no lance, but a spear was just a good enough replacement as he caught his first kill unawares as he turned around, the point of his spear puncturing through boiled leather and mail.
"Kill them all!" Ser Garret yelled as he ripped his spear out of the kill and then moved onto the next one. "For King Edmyn! For Riverrun! For the Trident!"
His cries were repeated by his men as they sowed chaos in the in the rear of the reacher reserve. Still many of them were cut down before they began to put on something close to a fight. He frowned as the mounted men started turning their horses around.
If only he had a few more men, knights, not boys and he would have cut through this lot and take the king himself prisoner and bring about an end to this war with a victory. But that was a thought for another time and place.
So instead, he looked towards his squire as he slid his short sword out of the throat of a knight who wore red and purple livery. "Marcus!"
The young man nodded as he brought the horn to his lips and blew long and hard. With that done, they both turned their horses around and began to make a mad dash for the trees once more. Looking around, he saw he wasn't the only one many of his men following him.
The farm boys on their plough horses there suffered the worst fate as they were cut down from behind, their horses unable to keep away from the reach knights.
If he was a caring man, Ser Garret would have prayed for them, but they had known the risks. For that, he would commend their bravery.
Looking back, he noticed the reach heavy horse was now in full pursuit of them and at that sight, he smiled.
***
Well, that happened.
Lowering the far-eye that had allowed me to see to the rear of the centre reserves, I had seen the surprise attack from the back from who I can probably say was Ser Garret and his men. I had been wondering what had happened to him and it seemed he wasn't dead and had been going around being a nuisance.
Though on one hand, I was quite pleased that his little hit at their rear had been enough to drag away the reserves of the centre, I still wasn't very happy at all. For one, there happened to be quite a lot of angry knights and mounted men on his ass at this very moment in time and I didn't like that one bit.
He better survive that.
"Your Grace!" Ser Lyman cried out. "Their horse is beginning to move!"
Looking to the left, I saw the allied cavalry start to move forward and I could probably guess their number was around five thousand or so. I had four thousand such horsemen and five hundred of them where with me as a body guard.
So, in effect, Ser Patrek commanded horse that numbered at thirty-five hundred against five thousand take away whatever damage the ballistas made on their ranks and continue to make on their ranks. So, could he make fashion a victory out of those numbers? I hoped so.
And hopefully, the 'help' I gave him would even it out a little more.
"Ser Patrek will handle it." I said with the sort of confidence I hoped to find. I swung my head round to the right and noticed that van of the Gardeners was pretty much breaking. The bowmen had done a job on the men that were dressed no better than farmers. They couldn't find purchase against the pike wall and the constant barrage of deadly arrows and quarrels from behind the lines. "Their left though is breaking!"
Grown men and some boys turned and dropped many make shift weapons and began to run back towards where the horse lay. Some seeing the horse had quickly done something the others at the rear had been doing long before, they jumped into the water and swum to the opposite bank. Some didn't swim though, they sank as they were unable to swim or to weight down by armour of some sort.
The ones that were able to make it to the opposite bank, they quickly took to their feet and made a mad dash south for home. I could already see a problem forming from them.
They were going to be a pain though. Probably form groups of bandits that will have to be taken care off. If not that, they will wander around lost and broken.
A very few might even know the way home, but not many of them.
The left was my chance to put an end to this.
"Ser Lyman, you are in command now." I ordered as I called for my helmet. "Their left has been broken, we are going to break through it and strike for the Gardener prince whilst the right flank pushes forward, to drive the last vestiges of resistance away, wheel round and strike at the exposed flank of their centre."
Ser Lyman blinked. "Sire! I can lead such an action! Or Kyle! There is no need for you to risk yourself so!"
"I must. What kind of king would I be if I asked for people to die for me without offering the same?" I smirked at the young knight and motioned at the five hundred horse that had been waiting in reserve for their chance. "And anyway, this is some of the finest chivalry of the Trident! I couldn't trust a finer bunch of men with my life! Come on Kyle, let's get ourselves a greenhand."
Kyle Vance nodded. "As you will, sire."
Ser Lyman protested at the action but he took the command nonetheless. I took our reserve of five hundred cavalry and left him with the rest of the infantry reserve. Several of his squire-messengers had raced off ahead of us on their trusty and speedy little steeds to give the orders to the commanders of the left flank.
By the time I had joined with the reserve horse and one battalion of infantry from the centre reserve, the pikes had pushed forward, through the stakes we had planted and the halberdiers followed closely behind. Ser Roland's bowmen had turned their attentions to the battle happening in the centre, continuously firing arrows into a mass of humanity that did not wear the colours of the Trident.
"Ser Jason!" I called to the officer of in command of the mixed unit of halberds and pikes. "I know it is a mighty task to ask of you, but I want you and your men to keep close. As close as possible. When we engage the greenhand reserve, don't engage yourself. Instead, keep an eye on their centre reserve, they might wish to strike us whilst we are preoccupied."
Ser Jason Whent nodded as he walked at a slight jog beside me. "Understood sire. They won't come close."
I nodded as the right flank made one final surge forward, sending the rest of the Gardener left flank into complete and utter retreat as men ran as fast as their legs could take them. Sharp commands from whistles and buglers saw the right flank reform, move forward, their formation breaking somewhat to flow past the stakes that had been planted.
By the time they had formed to face the centre with the most outward regiment angling itself ever so slightly in the direction of the greenhand centre reserve that had seen itself suffer at the hands of Ser Garret's little rear raid, I was already leading my horse and the infantry past them. The knights formed up into a wedge with me at its tip.
The greenhand armoured reserve had seen us and they were quick to form up their own lines as well, closing ranks from the loose formation they were in. The men that had been making a good go of escaping saw that they had been stuck between two opposing forces that were about to clash into each other.
Some dived into the waters of the river and others turned to run through the middle of the battlefield. They did anything to try and survive. When the distance between us started to close, our horses went from a trot to a gallop and by then, the unlucky men that had not seen to move out of the way found themselves run over and trampled by horses both those belonging to the reach knights and our own.
I lowered my lance as my heart pumped like mad inside my chest.
I believe I once noted that Edmyn, the real one, not me, had been a noted tourney knight in the Riverlands. I wondered if that meant jack against people that played at tourneys every chance they got.
I hadn't just been relying on his skills though. Every chance I got, I took to the quintains, against my own household knights and even melees in a weekly basis. I wasn't about ready to think I would be able to coast on skills and technique that I had learned by my own.
I just never got the chance to taste it out.
Well, it seems I was about to see.
Couching my lance underneath my shoulder. I timed my breathing as the two forces galloped closer and closer together. The world slowed for a moment before contact and I shifted slightly in my saddle to catch that perfect angle.
And I got it right.
My lance shattered on contact but with more than enough force to sink in the armour of my opponent as he was sent tumbling back dead. I quickly discarded the useless lance away and drew my warhammer.
Warhammers are very useful weapons to have when faced against opponent that pretty much wore nothing but plate and mail. Like reach knights.
I always come prepared. I should have been a scout in my previous life.
There was really nothing special about it. In fact, it just looked like an ice axe, just not an ice axe and more along the lines of a weapon used to kill people with. Not that ice axes could be used to kill people.
And now I was rambling.
A knight rode for me, his lance still intact. In reply, I rose my shield up and deflected the blow to the side. In the confide spaces we were in, he didn't have the space to pick up speed to make the blow meaningful in any manner. Kicking the sides of my horse, it surged forward and I brought my war hammer to smash him in the face on the point beneath his nose guard as I made my way past him.
I didn't even check to see if he was dead as I was already onto my next opponent, a tall knight with...holy shit, was that the Tyrell flower? Gold rose, green background? Yeah, that was definitely the Tyrell rose. It was funny how the world worked.
He came at me swinging a morning star which he whipped forward as fast as a cobra. My only shying back from the strike by nothing more than instinct was what saved me from having my face caved in. By a hair's breadth no less if the slight impact I felt was anything to go by.
"Highgarden!" The Tyrell yelled as he came for me once more, swinging that star of his like a man on a mission as he stroked at me again and again. My shield took the abuse without complain but each blow made me shudder. I kicked my horse's sides once more and it surged forward. "You won't escape from me!"
"I wasn't trying to escape." I replied as I swung my war hammer not at him, he was still too far out of my range but at his horse. The beast made a sound as it let out its death throttles, unbalancing the knight some as he tried to keep his balance on the horse that was within the last dredges of its life. "I meant to do that."
I finished as I swung at him from the side, striking him in the arm that held his morning star. The rerebrace crumbled underneath the impact from the armour and he let out a scream filled with pain as his arm went limp and the morning star dropped limply to the ground.
That was the last I saw of him as his horse finally died and fell to the earth, taking the Tyrell with it.
"Your Grace!" Was that Kyle? I couldn't tell with all the people yelling and crying all around me. "Behind you!"
I turned around and saw someone come at me in the livery of the greenhands, his sword a shimmery light as it swung at me. Once again, instinct came to my rescue and not one of those dodges to move, it was more of a 'oh, something is coming to hit me and there's nothing I can do about it. Might as well raise my hands and hope for the best.' With that sort of instinct, I had rose the gauntlet hand that held my war hammer up and that had been enough to deflect the blow.
That didn't dissuade my attacker in the slightest as he came at me in a flurry of blows. His strikes so quick with the sword I was sure I was only surviving for as long as I did simply because I was wearing armour. If this guy had a more useful weapon against plate, I would be dead.
Holy shit, I am seriously getting my ass kicked here.
A powerful blow from the flat side of the sword crashed onto my shoulder pauldrons and I winced underneath my helm at the pain caused. The greenhand knight or perhaps I was fighting one of the princes, brought his sword back, poised straight and ready for a thrust.
Fuck that.
I ducked low just as the quick thrust quickly took the place where my throat would have been. Hugging my horse with my body, I brought my warhammer up in an upswing aiming for the horse, but the knight quickly pulled his horse back to avoid the blow.
Okay, not only was he some sort of wonder kid with the sword, he also happened to be a pretty damn good horseman. Now that was just bullshit.
So much bullshit.
The greenhand made to move forward and resume his attack.
And I pulled myself up from the back of my horse to meet him and... I don't know what I had been expecting. A second wind of some sort? I mean, he had been kicking my ass before, what exactly about this time would make that change?
I brought my shield up to protect me from a sideways swing but it never came, instead, the swing snaked around my shield and instead struck at the neck of my horse. A deep enough cut that cut through the leather barding and the muscles of the horses as blood sprayed out.
My horse let out a cry as it reared back, throwing me off it. I made to quickly roll to my feet lest I find myself the unlucky victim of some horse coming over and trampling me, but I kept my eyes on the greenhand.
His heels bit into the side of his horse and he charged at me, sword held at the ready. I dodged to his opposite side and swung my warhammer at the rump of his horses. I made sure I wasn't directly behind it when it kicked out in pain.
That was more than enough for me to catch up and grab at the greenhand and hurl him down from his horse. Alright bitch, let's see how you like a good old wrestle.
He fought me all the way through but I was able to quickly put his head in a head lock whilst he punched at me and kicked away as he tried to escape the head lock. I just so happened to forget that I happened to be in a battlefield and quickly had to let go to move out of the way of being trampled by two horses, their riders locked in amazing sword play between the two of them.
It would have been a lucky break for me for the greenhand to be trampled, but that wasn't the case as he was still very much alive, now with a murky sword in his hands. Fuck.
I stuttered stepped forward that made him slide back in preparation for an attack, an attack that came in the form of me throwing my warhammer at him. Stupid, I know. Trust me, I know.
But it did the job of making him deflect it away from him and by then, I had crossed the distance between us to charge straight into him. Say what you will about Edmyn, but he was reasonably fast on his feet.
Crashing into the ground, I quickly positioned myself by sitting on his middle and brought out my dirk. I fumbled some at that, giving him enough time to try and throw me off, but I had the advantage of being right in his centre of gravity.
Bringing my dirk out, I made to bring it down on the gap between his visor and used my superior position to drive the dirk down, even as he struggled against me, doing all he could to push it away from him. I could feel his feet kicking, trying to get some leverage or something behind me, even as green eyes glared at me behind his visor.
Then the give just came as he quickly jerked his head to the side and stopped struggling against my pushing, forcing me to lose my balance as I fell forward and for the dirk to scrape off the side of his helmet. He quickly brought up his head and headbutted me straight in the face, just not enough to force me off but enough to allow him to make some space to throw a haymaker in my direction.
That had enough of a blow to knock me to the side and away from his middle. The greenhand quickly rose to his feet and I tried to do the same as my head swam and ringed from the blows. The greenhand looked around, perhaps for a weapon before he darted to the left and took to the reins of a riderless horse.
"Oh fuck." I cursed. He now had the advantage, even if he didn't have a weapon. I figured I was a dead man and thus was quite surprised when he turned all of a sudden and began to ride away. "...What just happened?"
Looking around, I noticed that the press of riverlander knights was pushing forward, driving away the reach knights and the freeriders that they had brought with them.
I could taste blood in my mouth as I watched the press of knights edge forward just a bit more. "...Did we just win?"
Of course, nobody was actually there to answer me.