A clear evening at the Oldstones. Spring.
“Black wings bear black news”, they used to say in the south. Or something like that… Indeed, this saying seemed true. Especially now. King Tristifer coldly demanded from the maester reed through the letter once more. The man, chilled to the bone stuttered as he read, for he had rarely seen the king, usually so calm and collected soothing with anger. But he didn’t really listen to the pompous words that the halfwit in Storm’s end had put on the parchment. War never changes. He had won wars in the past. He would win again. No matter how many the Stormkings would send against him.
“Father” his son asked, distraught, “reports say of a large force around the Blackwater moving towards Darry and the Antlers. What should we do?”
He disliked his son for his decision to let that rambling doomsayer stay with him. But he was still his son. And a decent commander aswell. Maybe he should send him south to deal with that rabble. Then again, his son was only decent when he had the lead.
“My lord, should we call the banners to Oldstones?” The maester decided to intervene.
He disliked the man, to the point of never caring to learn his name, just like he despised his masters, but that chained Andal was useful. Without the maester and his ravens, he would have been in the dark, until the hammer of the Stormkings fell upon the Antlers. He had little faith in Jon Darry. The man had his uses, but showed an unhealthy disrespect both for the Old gods and for him. He would have preferred it if his son had taken the castle. Again, his eyes fell on the maester and the man shivered and turned to the side. He was a coward. Hightower had bent their knees before the Andals and so had the Citadel. But he would not go down so easily. Not without a fight.
“We will fight them, then”, gravely stated the king. “And we will defeat them. No need to call the lords to me, maester. I will just need their troops. Send your birds. I want a quarter of each of my bannermen’s forces to meet me at Darry keep. We go to war.”
And so, the king raised his banner before the Oldstones and set to the southeast. It was not long before the letters of the maester reached his not precisely loyal bannermen. Many of them did their duty, but some decided to withhold their forces in order to protect themselves. Amongst them was a certain Teague, who had the king’s eye, but for his deviousness and not for his chivalry. King Tristifer was well aware that he had to take care of this man and relieve him of command, lest he decided to turn his colours.
The letters from the king were clear – the border lords were to maintain their positions and wait for a possible attack from the Lannisters or the Arryns. They were also to erect watchtowers at appropriate spots and recruit some extra soldiers, where needed, especialy in the lightly guarded Saltpans. The master of coin mentioned something about the treasury quickly emptying, but the king rebuked him, right before setting off. He intended to fill the treasury with the spoils of war.
On the next month, while he was nearby Fairmarket, the king received pleasant news. First, his maester stated that he believed the forces of the Riverlands were the most numerous in Westeros. The king doubted that, but decided not to let his doubts trouble him.
And, there were other news. Quite stunningly, that Lion who slept under his mountain approached his dignitary again. Obviously Lancel was worried about the war with the Gardeners, for he was again offering his daughter’s hand. With the Stormkings in the south, Tristifer decided that it was in his best interests to accept… for now. After all, he would personally see that his grandsons are true first men, in spite of who their mother was.
The next month king Tristifer met up with Danos Darry at his keep. He decided that Darry was a resourceful enough commander and that since his castle was rather deep inside the territory of the Riverlands, he is suitable to lead his vanguard. He gave a thousand of his more untrained and undisciplinsed men to Darry and let him go forward towards Rosby, where, according to the other Darry, the one that went by the name of Jon, the forces of the Stormlands converged.
Meanwhile, the king heard some troubling reports of Arryn forces in his lands, but he had faith in the garrison of the Saltpans and pushed forward towards the lands of the Stormkings.
Month later he received, through a rider, some troubling news. The kingdom was now in debt. But just in that moment his mood was corrected by a gift by the Stormlanders. Danos Darry had spotted and flanked a leaderless army of the Stormlands protecting the lands of the minor bannermen of house Stokeworth near the border. He ordered his army on a forced march and gave orders to Darry that he should continue with his manoeuvre and encircle the army from the south.
His bemusement was great, while he was observing the forces that the Stormkings had sent on patrol duty. He wondered how could they err so badly. The elite swordsmen and knights, experienced in previous engagements were positioning themselves against his forces. Leaderless, they were going to be easy prey to his large cavalry force. Especially after Darry moved in his troops.
The battle took place amongst sparse woods. The king intended to position his infantry on the outskirts of a thick patch of trees to prevent a strong cavalry charge on them, while he took all his horsemen down the right flank, where the ground was open. He easily crushed the resistance on the enemy left flank, then moved in against their centre, while Darry was approaching their right. Unfortunatley, the elite heavy cavalry and infantry of that captain Devan inflicted some casualties on his troops, especially on some of his most esteemed archers, who were, admittedly, poorly positioned in a small clearing in the middle of the forest.
At the end of the day, however, Tristifer decided it was a great success. In one hit, he had utterly annihilated the Stormkings' western flank and taken some of their most elite units that they would, surely, sorely miss in the coming months.
The next month brought more joyous news. First, there was the marriage between Jon Darry and Amerei Piper. The king raised a toast for them one night in his tent, amongst his closest retinue. Then, to further alleviate their situation, house Hoare had decided to declare war on the Kings of the rock. Indeed, it was a fine day for the Riverlands.
And just a week or so after those news, Darry and the king fell onto the fortress of Stokeworth. The defence was led by a Buckely that went by the name of Steffon. Tristifer had never heard of him. No matter. Soon the man was going to be dead. He had mostly militias with him and it was a matter of time before the first men came crashing through his walls. Darry, with his more numerous force, took up position near the Blackwater, to prevent any attack from the rear, while the more experienced king led his forces further north to stop any relief force coming from Rosby.
It took the two armies some time to consolidate and prepare siege engines. No relief force came and soon they breached the walls and culled the men inside in a crushing victory. For his bravery, Danos Darry was to become the new lord of the castle and hold the Blackrush in the king’s name.
On the day of the capturing of Stokeworth the king received some news. First, he was now deeply in debt. And, second, he heard of the marriage between Oswell Piper and a Tully. He cared little for the first news, but he raised a toast for the newly wed while sitting in the throne of the Stokeworths. He wondered, where they were, but that was a thought he quickly abandoned. Especially since he heard that a relief force, quite late, was coming towards the now captured city.
King Tristifer pushed Stannis Buckler hard and the coward with his inferior force fled back to Rosby. But the Hammer of Justice was relentless and fell again on the enemy of the first men. In a daring night attack against the unprepared forces of Buckler he managed to rout his army and claim victory. The leader of the Stormland forces fled into the castle and took over the command of the defenders from Galladon Stokeworth who had apparently been foolish enough to leave the safety of his own lands. In the end, it wouldn’t matter too much for him, the king was sure.
At that time, he estimated, his realm was the largest of all in Westeros. And with Rosby, Duskendale and the Rook’s Rest before him it would surely grow further. There was that minor trouble with the Arryns constantly increasing their troops on the borders, but he was certain that he will deal with them after he cleared the lands north of the Blackrush from followers of the accursed Stormking.
The king besieged Rosby and, soon enough, his forces were ready to crush the resistance inside…
“The battle will be hard.” The king walked slowly between the men of his retinue on that fateful day. “Many of us will die. That is unfortunate.” He would stop and look at them in the eyes, as if he wanted to pierce into their minds and see if they were prepared, itching for a fight, like he was. “But we will win. This I tell you, a man who has won more than fifty battles and is yet to taste defeat. We will crash into this castle and take it. There is no other option.”
Yet, he was not so sure himself. He had a lot of cavalrymen, but his infantry forces were lacking and he had even been forced to take up some mercenaries previously in the service of lord Darry. As he looked at the map scribbled in the dust he came to realize that this battle was not going to be won solely at one gate. His forces weren’t enough for a proper encirclement, but maybe…
He looked over the lines of his soldiers and rode out, his faithful guard behind him. His trip was short, for the man he sought was also a calryman and a noble like him, a minor lordling by the name of Hellman Goodbrook, in service of house Blackwood and leading their knights on the field this day.
“Hellman”, he said, pointing to the southeast. “The forests around the castle look deep enough and it is overcast. You can move around without attracting too much attention. The enemy would be too focused on our assault on the main gate and on the eastern wall to watch the northern gate. Take some of my riders and some men with ladders. I want you to draw in their forces in the north.”
Hellman nodded briefly and went on to do his duty. His plan ready to be set in motion, king Tristifer donned his helmet and readied his hammer. It was going to be bloody, but he never doubted his own words.
To his surprise as soon as the southern gate fell to his ram, Stannis Buckler flew out of the rubble, sword in his hand. As battle raged across the walls the king led his entire southern force against the foolhardy lord. His hammer hungered for blood.
As he was battling near the smashed gate, he heard the distant sounds of battle and he allowed himself a reserved smile. His men had managed to sneak through the northern gate and now had drawn some of the forces of the Stormlanders on them. Attacked at both gates and on the walls, the numericaly inferior andals had no chance.
Tristifer was mildly annoyed on learning that Stannis Buckler had died to a valiant horseman in his service. He had hoped to take the running coward’s life himself. Although lord Buckler has partially redeemed himself with his valiant last stand.
The battle raged on around them, but the king was now certain of his victory. News of the death of their commander spread quickly around the fortress as his forces pushed for the keep. He sent some cavalrymen to relief the warriors that breached the stronghold to the north and soon enough the man leading the defence there, Galladon Stokeworth broke and fled for his life towards the keep. Tristifer could not help himself but laugh as the panicking lord realised that he had charged right into a hundred knights ready to take his life.
In the end, the battle was a defeat for the Stormlanders. At the news of the death of their second leader, their forces broke and ran, and for that, Tristifer decided to spare the town. He intended to promise Hellman Goodbrook the lordship, but was dismayed to learn of the valiant warrior’s death. On the evening after the battle the glorious son of the first men was buried nearby the castle and the king himself delivered a speech in which he praised his courage.
The losses that his realm had endured during those quick eight months of victories weren’t great, but they, along with the two new castles actually helped the economy stabilize. It also helped that he received several donations from the thankful council after his envoys managed to secure trade with the Gradeners, Yronwoods and Martells.
Determined to get the job done as quickly as possible, the king left only a handful of his warriors behind to watch over the settlement and went east. And, to his great surprise, there was a lavish gift waiting for him at Duskendale.
Tristifer could barely wait to set up his siege engines and kill the pompous brat that had forced him to leave his home just weeks after concluding his last campaign in the Westerlands. So, he ordered a ram, a siege tower and some ladders and eagerly awaited to breach the walls and butcher the offender.
The king was quite annoyed when he heard that the high septon was preaching near Stoney heart, but there was nothing he could do at the time. Instead, he decided that it would be more appropriate if he put the head of the Stormking in a basket and send it to the high septon.
Unfortunately, he was unable to do so, as the Stormking managed to kill himself by running under a porticulus as his men poured hot oil. King Tristifer, aware of the fact that by now the war was won, went east and besieged the last remaining pocket of resistance on this side of the Blackwater.
The Boltons at this time parleyed with him for trade rights, through the voluptuous Lyra Bolton that had been staying for several months now at the Greenfork watch where his son was waiting for the Arryns. The king wondered what those two were up to. He was not going to allow his son to have bastards. Regardless, he wrote to the boy to accept the offer and sign the trading treaty. The gods knew that they could use the money.
As always, good news came well garnished with bad ones several days before the assault on the Rook’s Rest. On the one hand, in just a month, he had went from being in debt to the richest man in Westeros. Now he could order up the growing of new godswoods in the now captured territories and reinforce his troops. On the other hand, there was some troubling diplomatic information.
The lions were in allegiance with the eagles now. He didn’t know anything of their war with the Gardeners. For all he knew they might be close to a cease fire and the Hoares were, undoubtedly, not pressing hard enough in the west. Otherwise, the Arryns would not risk siding with a trouble-ridden kingdom. Anyway, he decided to wrap up his work in the south for now by a good, nearly bloodless assault on the keep, held by the alleged heir to the stormking. Who the current stormking was? He didn’t know and didn’t care actualy.
Unfortunately, in the battle, he was maimed by a valiant foeman. No worries. The ladies loved the scars, as he had said to his men just several months ago, on the start of this campaign. The battle was easy and quick and he set off just hours after that. He yearned to see his wife, and, after all, his forces needed retraining. Not to mention that Arryn troops had descended from their forsaken mountains in force.
“He was a worthy enemy, some may claim.” The king cared little to even look at the swine at his boots. “What are you then?”
Prince Denis, they called him. A useless dandy that wouldn’t know the blade from the hilt, even if it was deep in his belly. He begged, mumbled something for mercy and chivalry. Yes, Tristifer knew mercy. He knew chivalry. But not for this man. That bloody Andal deserved to die. Unfortunately it was not the king’s custom to kill captured enemies.
“Well, sire, what are your orders?”
His men held the prince tight. Not that the whimpering bastard could do anything dangerous, really. Tristifer shrugged. He was done with those lands for now. His hearth yearned for the tranquillity of the godswoods in home, for the loving embrace of his wife.
“Be kind to him.” He answered, half-turned towards them. The prince cried out in relief. “Blind him, but do so quickly and leave him to the men he swore to protect here.” The cry turned into a frenzied shriek.
As the guards dragged prince Denis away, the king wandered. Where will this take him. He had secured a tight spot where to protect himself from the Stormlands. The Blackrush was like an impenetrable fortress, even if he didn’t take Stokeworth into account. But with Arryns and Lannisters on his doorstep and the Hoares ever willing to raid? He didn’t know.
And now, all that was irrelevant. He was going home.
The King Of Risvers And Hills - Mudd AAR
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