"Cease fire! Cease fire!" When the darkness finally lifted, that was the only order Ser Andrew could give.
The castle's defenders had kept loosing arrows through the entire night. When the sky began to lighten, they saw at last that there had been half as many enemies on the field as they had imagined.
"What is happening?" The soldiers on the walls were coming out of their daze and beginning to ask questions.
"So few of them, but all that noise..."
"And almost no dead! Most of them were never within arrow range!" The sharper minds were starting to piece it together.
"They tricked us?" one of the knights said aloud what everyone was thinking.
Damn it all. We overcorrected because our enemy was the Falcon's eye. That was poorly done. The thought ran through Andrew's head as he pushed his mind toward a solution.
"Order everyone to rest imdiately! There is a little ti before sunrise. Let them sleep, even if it is only long enough to close their eyes. Release half the n from the walls!"
" ATTACK!!!" The defenders heard the battle cries of their enemies rising again below. "RAISE THE LADDERS! KILL THE TRAITORS!!!"
But for all the Grey Glen commander's efforts, his people could not rest. There was not a single man who could sleep under the enemy's screaming. Veteran soldiers can sleep any hour in any position, but n who had been farrs the day before cannot. Exhausted, frightened, and now certain of their enemy's cunning, they could get no rest in the small window that remained.
Then dawn broke, and the castle's defenders were thrown back into battle in the worst possible condition, against Arryn's rested soldiers. The lack of sleep was already bearing its fruit. The defenders grew sluggish, their losses climbed. By the end of the second day nearly every reserve had been committed.
...
The Second Day. Night.
A heated argunt had broken out in Grey Glen's command post.
"Tonight will be the sa trick as last night," Ser Elbert said with confidence.
"They brought more ladders. Does that not suggest a real attack is coming?" Old Tom was skeptical.
"No, most likely another bluff, to keep us from resting." In the space of two days, Elbert had gone from a boy to a man who reasoned about tactics and strategy.
"Then we hold to the plan and send word for half the troops to rest," Andrew decided, though his own thoughts had gone elsewhere.
Even if we order them to rest, they will not be able to sleep. If the n had enough left in them for today, tomorrow will be their last. They will reach their limit, and then Arryn will slaughter every last soul in this castle. I have no way to get Lord Tollett's family out. If we had seen through the bluff, we would have rested and the losses would have been lighter. Instead all I did was keep our people awake through the night, taken in by Arryn's trick. If Grey Glen falls, the Tollett line will be destroyed. All of it will be my fault.
...
The Third Day. Morning.
Andrew looked around and saw that his commanders were not in good shape. He understood them. Their armor chafed against their skin, worn raw in places. Everyone present had developed a rash, the armor rank with dried sweat and blood since none of them had removed it or changed their clothes since the battle began. Seven hells. It was a miracle they had found the ti to take off their breeches when nature demanded it. Not that the situation was any different for everyone else.
"Ser, fresh enemy forces are approaching the wall. Again." Old Tom reported it with quiet resignation.
Andrew closed his eyes in despair as the shouting resud. He had fought in dozens of battles and three wars, but no one had ever pressed a siege like this. The unbroken assault across several days had stripped the garrison of every last scrap of strength, physical and moral alike. Every lull between attacks only deepened the dread of the next one.
Then the shouts of his own n snapped him out of it.
"Reinforcents are here!"
"Arryn is running!"
"We are saved!!! That is Blackfish's banner and the Graftons!!! Glory to Ser Brynden!!!"
"BWAAAH! BWAAAH!!!" The sound of a horn that any Tollett would recognize among a thousand.
His heart hamred like a drum. Against all hope Andrew threw himself to the wall and looked out, just in ti to watch hundreds of cavalry cutting through Arryn's formations. Unable to withstand such a fierce charge, the attackers broke and ran, and the reinforcents pursued them without rcy.
Buoyed by the sudden turn of fortune, Andrew leaned over the wall and fixed his gaze on the enemy's command tent. The man responsible for the execution of his brother and nephew, the man because of whom they had endured these terrible days, was within reach. The last thing that broke his composure was the sound of the Tollett battle horn, which only a mber of that family knew how to sound properly. He turned to Elbert.
"Gather our people! Prepare everyone for a cavalry charge! This is our mont! The enemy is disorganized and their command tent is unguarded! We can kill the bastard and avenge everyone who died because of him." Elbert did not argue. He saw the sa desire for revenge burning in his own eyes.
Shortly after, the gates of Grey Glen swung open and a hundred horsen rode hard toward Arryn's tent. The vanguard surged toward the central tent, driving toward the man they held most responsible for everything. Excitent, blood rage, hunger for revenge, the desire for glory pushed them forward. They reached the middle of the camp, where a group of n stood in a ring around the army's commanders. With a vicious smile Andrew dismounted and walked toward the captives.
"Well, well. How things have changed. Now you will feel on your own skin the fury of those whose people you..." Andrew stopped cold, staring at the man who should have been Axel Arryn on his knees, but was not. The stranger smiled, and Andrew understood everything.
"AMBU..." But before he could finish the warning, the "Grafton soldiers" began cutting his n down.
That was the last thing Ser Andrew Tollett, Master-at-Arms of Grey Glen, saw before his head was parted from his body by a Valyrian blade.
...
"Lord Arryn, all those who bore arms are dead. The survivors have been locked in the castle's catacombs. Lady Tollett and her grandchildren are secured in their chambers," Ser Symond Templeton reported.
The plan had worked. The defenders had taken the bait and paid for it as was only natural. In all honesty, I had underestimated how badly the people here wanted revenge against . I had expected to take the castle on the second day, but they held out, and I had no desire to waste my n on a pointless assault. Without my little trick we would have been at it another two or three days. Sleep deprivation, lost hope, and the dawning awareness that they had already beco prey clouded their judgnt. With my ruse I gave them hope back. With the close placent of my tent I stoked their hunger for revenge. With the Tollett horn call, summoning them to attack, I extinguished the last ember of reason they had.
Since the start of the campaign to put down the rebellion, I had needed to use magic for mobile communication. For that purpose I had adapted two eagles from Essos. Nothing excessive on my part, just a small trick that allowed an eagle to find a person it had been bonded to, wherever that person might be. It was thanks to this that I had been able to coordinate three armies, encircle the rebels, and co close to breaking them entirely. During that earlier battle I had also had the opportunity to learn the Tollett horn signals, matching the sounds to the movents of their n.
Eagles make fine ssengers and excellent scouts, but one cannot rely on them entirely. I cannot spend every waking hour watching through their eyes, and they can be avoided if soone knows to look for them. Blackfish had demonstrated exactly that.
Now the central question was this: what to do with the survivors? Cut them down? I would be branded a maniac, and the conversation about that would be short from everyone. Scatter them across different territories? No, I did not need another rebellion in fifteen years. There was an idea forming, but it could wait a little longer.
"Thank you, Ser Symond." It costs nothing, and a man likes to know his work is valued. "Order our soldiers to rest. The thousand held in reserve will handle everything that needs doing."
"As you say, my lord."
Now it was your turn, Robar.
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