[@MrDidact][@AtomicNut] (collabs)


The Spine, Red Mountains

The fight was turning into a mess, and losses were mounting, fast. Garlan didn't sometimes have the mentality or pace to keep up with the supernatural, given how much of it was happening. He was a capable tactician, but this was escaping his mind now, this was far more surreal and difficult to understand entirely. He watched the clash, keeping to the back, knowing he'd have to go forward. They were seriously screwed, and Garlan knew that they would need something more than just this. Ronnel's Griffons wouldn't help. And losing ground was a horrid idea. It would lead to losses. But so would holding a terrible position. And Garlan knew only one thing would turn the tide. It had to be sent now, as he walked amongst his Knights, finding the runner in his small troop of men, a young Squire by the name of Haydon. A scared and terrified man, but at this point in time, Garlan didn't see much change.

"Get one of your ravens to fly a message, to Aegon's last reported position. We need him here, now, or we're going to be dead in the coming hour." Garlan said, as the young squire nodded, running, the bag that he carried containing a pair of ravens, a rather strange thing to carry indeed, but Garlan had it as a last line of communication. The distances weren't huge, and the raven perhaps would go unspotted in the chaos of war. Make it in time to Aegon and get him to come here, and provide dragonfire, to burn the earth to it's core. Fighting fire with fire. It would be able to go back, given they they weren't surrounded, as Garlan took in the immediate tactical need. They were getting swarmed, and it was getting bloody. He continued to move towards the front, followed by his own troop, yelling the orders.
"Get the fire to the front, get us a wall of flame and draw back to the next ridgeline!" 

The tactic was simple- the ridge had dents in it, and slowly dragging out the pullout would force the enemy to try and mop up every time. It would not be without casualties, but it would be better than anything else anyone would suggest. It would allow the line to reform, hold, then pull back. The flames would play a role in that, until something more came. If they fell back too far, Garlan knew the army would be broken, and they'd have no more capacity left to continue. It felt like right there, right then, the campaign was unravelling. Every gain, all of this, for absolutely nothing. No, he said to himself. Seeing Haydon run into the distance, he let the raven fly from his hands, and into the distance, as he ran forwards, clashing swords with some weird beast of some kind, hacking through, clearing it's head clean off, before being knocked back, taking it as a signal to move back. No cowardice here....it was a mass of bodies and parts of the line had already sunk back, the flames rising on the front, and horses and chaos unravelling everywhere, like a pure hell of some kind, as they knew that if they didn't make it back to reform, they'd all surely die. 

Merrell eyed the battlefield from his horse, gripping the reins in concern. This wasn't...going so well. He had expected the last castle to be defended tooth and nail. But this mass assault of demonic creatures. Well, it was reasonable that few, if any strategists would have anticipated it.  His eyes looked at his own men. Unlike many, they weren't throwing the weapons and trying to retreat. Indeed a sizable portion was chanting.

"Praise the Lord of Light." The fire priests resonated in unison as their zeal and fanatism allowed them to stand tall amidst the gore and confusion. The flames manipulated by their strange arts seemed to land on the enemy beasts, scorching them as soon as they entered range, and twarthing the magical fires that seized their army. However, it was evident that the army was about to collapse. 

He eyed some of his mounted knights, and troops. He licked his lips. He was parched already. Still, Merrell's voice didn't crackle even once, merely gaining enough impetus to be heard in the battlefield. "Mella Florent. Send a Flare and retreat with a score of your priest, supporting the bulk of your troops."

"Why! We can win this!" The grating femine voice was obviously a bit too deluded and drunk in power to acquiesce, but a second shout from Merrell managed to do the trick. She had to be preserved. For good or bad, she was the most capable and the leader of the priests. His sight crossed with Garlan, who was speeding towards the vanguard.

"I'll handle this. You told me to reinforce the Vanguard." Merrell florent said, in his usual placid tone, as he sized up the beasts. "Men. Who wishes to court death today with me?" He said to his knights. Several of them answered with greetings.

"Alright. You heard the commander. Torch those beasts and hellions!" He commanded the rest of the fire priests. "And as for the rest...whoever has still wits to fight... "

He waited. A window of opportunity. As the beasts rampaged, their numbers thinned and strengthened. They were far from an united front. 

"Wait for it. Priests FIRE OVER THERE!" Merrell pointed with the sword to a certain spot. "MY KNIGHTS! CHARGE!" He added, running exactly after the fire's wake, using its brightness to conceal the charge to the stunned creatures. Knight lances followed the flame, and a gruesome sound of splintered wood and ravaged flesh followed. Merrel himself broke his lance, impaling one of the larger beasts through an eye, and continued to point at the sword, telling the priests to carve a path for his knights to follow. There were few, but hopefully this would help Garlan's army to hold a bit more in their hasty retreat.

As the fire priests rained mystical blows on the enemy, the Alchemists launched bombs and grenades of their alchemical substances, flaring up explosions of green fire and fury that added to the din as the water mages opened up the dome to allow the bombardment. The lightning knight punched out with his fist and purple lightning crackled among the enemy, sizzling and scorching beasts and men alike to death, as the water mages called up a blistering hailstorm that bludgeoned monsters and Vultures into the dirt. 

The enemy offensive was stopped cold for the moment and the surprise counter-attack took the enemy by complete surprise. The Florent Knights cut a bloody swath through the enemy, riding down scores of enemies or impaling them with their spears and swords. Dickon Tarly and the archers unleashed a volley over the charge and into the ranks of the enemy, and several other mounted knights followed the Florents into the charge; attempting to make back the ground that had been lost. 

The bold move was going well, until out of the demonic throng, a beast out of nightmare lept at Merrel Florent. It had a lion's body, bull's horns, and large batlike wings with a scorpion's tail. But worst of all, it had a man's head and it snarled to reveal three rows of razor sharp teeth. The Manticore, an elder member of it's species, unfurled it's wings and stabbed the tail out at Merrel's mount, while opening it's maw and attempting to chew off Merrel's head. Near the Florent, one man was impaled on the end of a black spear while another was dragged into the claws of a giant vulture, horse and all. If they didn't get help soon, the bold charge would turn into a suicide move. 

And Garlan saw it coming, stopping his own retreat, watching the manticore stab into Merrell's mount, as he ran over, his own horse frightened away, as he kept his sword raised high, watching the manticore leap onto Merrell, as he ran over. Yelling loudly, it was a loud beast, and it was distracted for a moment, as Garlan swung, the blade catching it's arm, as he kicked it off, knowing it was stupid. But Merrell was going to die if he didn't, and that was a clear decision.
"Fucking run!" Garlan yelled, as he turned to the Manticore, screaming out, looking it in the eye. Yet the arrival of a horse slamming into it's side was almost anti-climatic, as he shook his head, turning and following in the rest that were running back, the noise of arrows whistling into the breach, and somewhere Garlan did not want to be.

Merrell eyed the beast, as it savaged his horse. It was decidedly scary and ugly. [i]Well. That settles it. You ran out of luck, Merrell. At least give a good show.[/i] He thought to himself as he gripped his sword arm. He thought of jabbing the beast with his sword inside its mouth, sword arm be damned. It reeked, so it would probably kill him aswell with the malaise of the wound. But he was...oddly serene. He had been ready to die in that charge just to win Garlan some time.

And then the fool came to his aid, telling him to run. "You fool!" He muttered, as he smashed the creature's face with his blade and slipped from the remains of his horse, his legs pumping as much speed as he could. "Seven hells Garlan, get behind the fucking line! You're the commander!" He yelled back, as he gripped his sword and ran towards the lines of the Tyrell forces.

[i]I need a horse! Damn beasts! My beatiful Madeleine! They will pay for this![/i] The seasoned knight cursed, life being breathed again in his deathly intention.

And they ran, and it was not anything glorious. It was hellish, fire and all sorts of insanity was going on, Garlan was amazed to think he actually still had his head screwed on, given that none of this shit made any sense. Dragonfire was one thing, this was something altogether, as they ran back towards the line. Spears and pikes relined, the men tired and bloodied, the weak collapsing at the rear and Sargants picking up stragglers, as Garlan looked back at the enemy again, wiping the blood and guts from his face, his visor back down again, as he looked on at the chaos unfolding, Garlan in silence for just a moment, the gears turning in his mind. This really was as bad as it could be.

As the two nobles fell back, the rest of the vanguard fell back with them, at least those that could. Others were killed, dragged screaming from the saddle or beset by monsters. Of the men who ran out with Merrel in their mad dash, almost half of them had fallen to the monsters and the blades of the Vultures. Two passing mounted knights offered both lords helping hands to mount the saddle behind them and they made a beelin for the shield wall. Ned Dayne urged the men forward to their aid, but the going was agonozingly slow even with mystical fire support. 

Then the worst happened, the Manticore who had felled Merrel's horse, bruised and bloodied but not dead, flew over the retreating cavalry and snarled, making the lead horses rear back in fear. Vultures and twisted monstrosities started surrounding the knights, isolating them from the main army. "Protect your lord! Protect your lord!" shouted one of the Green Hand knights, the calvalrymen forming a circle around Garlan, Merrel, and the other highborn as they stabbed down with swords and spears at the giant scorpions, carnivorous rats, shrieking goblins, monstrous cobras and all manner of foes. The Manticore flew over the protective circle and stamped one lion claw into the sand, facing the two knights on foot as it prepared to pounce once more. All around them, the knights fought for their lives, a fight they seemed to be doomed to lose. 

"Goodness Garlan. Look what you did. You should've me let me lead my last charge and save your men." Merrell grumbled as he drew his sword once more, jumping out of the mount."Let me handle this." 

"Don't be a cunt, and hold your ground! Or it won't matter what any of us did!" Garlan watched the other monstrosities come, as he clashed with one, slashing it through the head as he was knocked back, dragging one with him as he slashed it across it's upper body, yelling, the Tyrell back at it as the blood began to spill all around, war at it's horror, Knights clashing in swords, and all shit hitting the fan. But the Manticore didn't care. It wanted the two in the middle. And it was coming, thick and thin. The Manticore howled, as Garlan turned, dodging it's tail and it's charge, slashing but missing the point, as he looked on.
"Have at it, you winged fucker!" Garlan yelled, as the Manticore yelled, as it ran forward at Garlan once more.

Merrell, on his side of things grumbled as he tumbled out of the way of the monstrous creature. [i]So you don't like that i messed up your face[/i]. He thought grimly. They were losing a lot of forces, but he wasn't going to let his life be cheap. The whistling of the tail's creature made him sidestep just in time.

"Garlan. Be nice with our guests." Merrell said, his face finally contorted in anger, as he drew...his wineskin. "Offer them Arbor Gold!" He said, as he splashed the monster's face with the remainder of the concoction, blinding the creature hopefully. Given the wine and the many wounds, it would sting, to say the least. His blade readied, he took the window of oportunity to flank and stab the creature in one of their sides.

Garlan managed to bloody the tail, drawing a line of green blood as Merrel's wine sunk into it's wounds and made it screech. It dove for Merrel, driving him to the ground under one leonine paw and snarling its spit into his visor as it reared up it's scorpion tail to stab the knight, the wounds that Merrel had dealt it making it favor the paw it placed on his shoulder. 

And Garlan managed to come close, and take advantage of just that. The screeching Manticore was not something Garlan was going to miss, not at this range, and whilst an elder and wise beast, it had picked the wrong one of the two nobles to target. He yelled, and did the only thing that seemed perfectly reasonable, at this point-blank range.

The blade entered it's neck, the tall creature roaring out as he withdrew the blade, the manticore screaming in agony as it loosened it's hold on Merrell, before sliding the blade across it's chest, leaving a deep cut, a deep wound that pulled some muscle and gut out, pouring out bloodily as he felt it claw away, Garlan drawing his sword and stabbing it once more, clean through the head. It roared, as it fell dead, falling right by Merrell's side as it dramatically took the hit, Garlan utterly exausted in doing so. 
"Get the fuck up, and don't die on me here." Garlan knew it was easier said than done, as he looked around, other beasts and madness closing in, though the death of the manticore had bought them a little time. 

Merrell clenched his teeth as he was pinned to the ground, his body tossed like a ragdoll by the manticore's paw. The creature was readying its stinger once more, and the knight knew that it might be the last attack he could ever resist. Gripping his sword, he tried to aim at the creature's heart, located just under the forepaw that had him gripped...

...Or that's what he would have done, had Garlan not intervened. Merrell simply rolled out of the way, as he stood up with difficulty once more, checking his side. Maybe there was something broken in there, but he could check that later. He eyed Garlan as he yelled his orders. "I'll try not to, thanks. But circumstances might make that difficult." 

The Manticore dead still twitched occasionally, it's vile blood bubbling on the sand. All around them, the cluster of knights growing tighter and tighter as they were forced back by the press of their enemies. Dickon shouted from his saddle, the army pressing closer and closer to rescue their beleaguered officers, but too slow. Far too slow. The knights on their horses managed to drive back the monsters and beasts for the most part, but gaps were left in their line, which the mortal Vultures exploited. They charged headlong for the two knights, Dornish screamers with axe, sword, dagger, or spear, perhaps a dozen or more seeking to end Garlan and Merrel. 

Merrell sprung to action once more, this time jumping next to the tail of the manticore. With the accuracy of an expert swordsman, drew his sword and soaked it in the vile creature's poison, the blade now glistening with the deadly liquid. He swung his sword, droplets of poison being launched into the score of men, each one with lethal potential. "Thanks for the manticore poison for our weapons. We appreciate it." He said as he went on with his sword, deftly aiming to cut the flesh and poison his opponents. Of course, it was a risky maneuver, given that the poison could as well get into his own wounds, but they were hardpressed.

And Garlan had to join in, entering into the breach once again, the Knights of the Green Hand up against it here, and trying to hold back whatever was coming their way, and they were many. It was difficult, as swords were swung, and Garlan tried to fell as many as he could, though he knew it would never stop the entirety from coming their way. There was still just far too many, and they were now prying their gaps, charging away. 

Merrel's move surprised the Vultures, a few of whom shrank back in fear at the droplets of poison. Any man he stabbed soon became wracked by the toxic blood, shrieking in agony. Garlan came right behind him and the Vultures tried to surround them, forcing the two knights to fight back to back. The two men were heavily armed and armored, whereas most of the Vultures were in light armor and many fell to the experienced warriors. But more kept coming, heedless of the dead or dying at the knights' feet. 

It seemed they would be mobbed by the rebels, their men overwhelmed by the monsters. Until the air split apart in a thunderous roar and an entire section of the cliff path was engulfed in flame. Ser Aegon Targaryen, riding Viserion rode in, spewing dragonfire on the monsters and men below. Hundreds were killed instantly, and many more screamed and cried as they were surrounded or engulfed by fire. Ronnet's griffons followed on Aegon's heels and many of the giant vultures were slaughtered by the griffins as Aegon kept raining fire below. The enemy lost heart, the vast majority of them turning tail and running, even the monsters while the royalist army cheered and ran forward. 

The enemy ran back to their castle with the army on their heels, and it was their chance to take the castle now while confusion and disorder reigned. 

The blood had hit hard in the ranks of the army, but the fire that engulfed the field turned much to ash, the sight a hellish fever dream, and nothing Garlan could entirely embrace or accept. It was the nuclear option, and turned the red dirt into black, fire burning any scrub or trees on the ridge, the monsters burning alive as Garlan yelled, blood covering his plate as he charged forwards, in front of the men, sword held high, yelling at those who were left. The losses were heavy, ridiculous, but if they didn't take this castle, he knew it would be for exactly nought. They had to have revenge, and the dragon had effectively leveled the playing field. 
"Come on then! Chaaarge!" 

Men sprawled forward, the lieutenants and sargeant-at-arms picking up soldiers, Dornish spears and Knights of the Reach, levies and pikes moving into the ash and smoke, feeling relieved and uplifted in their morale, aware that they knew these monsters could burn, and burn they would. Garlan made his chance to go back towards his steed, fallen back to the rear line, where a few of the Green Hand squires had kept them, safe at the rear where they had planned to forestall the enemy. That was not happening now, as he took a breather, finding his own steed. 

Clambering on, he kicked hard with his ankle, the horse braying as he put up his visor, feeling the heat burn through proper now , as he let his own men assemble, looking on at the castle in the distance. He rode towards Ned Dayne's troop, finding the Dornishman also overlooking the situation, recovering and preparing to advance again.
"We can't just cower inside, or take it as a trap. We have to seize it. Drive them into a total rout, scare them. Our horses aren't going to stop with a little flames. They'll have little left to throw right now, and let's keep it that way." Garlan said to him, knowing it was a worthwhile point to make- if they didn't strike now, they would lose the advantage, even with the losses that they had taken, it wouldn't be worth anything at all. And Garlan did not plan on letting Gendry watch this any further. This stopped now.

"I want the castle burned, so get a flare sent by the door, and Viserion will take the bait and burn it to the ground. The rest of the army will entrap and seal the routes down. No running away for them. You'll find it easy to clean out the inside from there on out, you take the vanguard and kill anything that stands in your way. Spare anyone left who surrenders, but don't make it a priority. These beasts don't know peace....not of any normal kind, not what I just saw. Whatever that captured man said, seems like we're risking the opposite if I order it, but they broke the rules here. I may be oathbreaking to our captured man if I am wrong, but I am not letting more Reachmen, Dornishmen and Stormlanders die for nothing. There's only going to be a lot more blood and then we won't have a campaign at all. That would be a coward's way. This is no noble fight anymore. This is the lowest circle of hell." Garlan said, the ash blowing across his plate and his horse, scaring it a little, the sight of piles of ash and dust actually blocking the sunlight a little, the flesh so cooked and burned it transended it's mere fire, just into total incineration. A dragon's breath burned so hot after all, it created steam naturally on a summer night, let alone when it poured fire onto the field. And it was a hellscape, as 

"To yours, Ned. I'm a little sick of nearly dying, and I don't want you to get yourself killed either if we're going to keep our morale high. Let's finish this." Garlan added, nodding to the Dayne, letting him get a thought in.

Ned nodded grimly, obviously displeased with the notion but not afraid to follow his orders, "We can take the castle without such means. And Gendry may be displeased by the loss of a strongly fortified final position. But I understand, and it will be done. You can count on me Garlan, and I will stand with you should our general be wroth. You earned it today, with your bravery and honor on the battlefield." Ned rode off to enact his orders. 

"By the Seven. That was a close one." Merrell muttered somewhat in awe, as he saw what he thought was going to be his end suddenly erupt in the equally terrifying dragonfire of the Targayen. [i]At least these monsters are on our side.[/i] He thought as he used the window of opportunity present with the reinforcement to reunite with his troops. Luckily, there was a spare horse there. Although not for the good reasons. Florent blood had paved the road to this upset, as he grimly thought. They had been good fearless men, and he had asked to court death alongside him. And only him, the Stranger found fit to spare. It was a crushing feeling. 

He looked at the eyes of his men, and nodded. Garlan had decided to go all out with the army into the castle. Like an enraged beast, he only thought of destroying right now. Perhaps that manticore could've been a better commander of the army at this point. 

"Sir?" One of the knights asked, noticing Merrell's hesitation. 

Merrell clenched his teeth. "We advance, like the commander said." He signaled for the charge. "But carefully. I don't want to lose more Florent Blood today. Let others have the glory of the last charge." The Fox Knight uttered as he ordered the remainder of his priests and Knights to move forward. "Also, send a runner for our healers. We're going to need lots of them."

By this point, Mirren Sand and her men would have already captured the tunnel passes inside the mountain, and as the army went to cut down the fleeing stragglers and surround the castle; there would be no escape for the garrison inside. Many of the enemy fled before the encirclement was complete, perhaps a few hundred, frantically rushing up the mountain path to the summit of the Spine, where the Vulture's last stronghold on the mountain remained. But the rest of them were trapped. 

The Alchemists rolled their trebuchets loaded with wildfire projectiles forward and as they crashed onto the castle, Viserion strafed the castle with a blast of fire. The screams from the stronghold of the men and monsters trapped inside could be heard all the way at the bottom of the mountain. In the opening moments of the salvo, several more men jumped from the battlements or rushed through postern gates to try and surrender, a few of them already enflamed as green and white fire played over the castle. It burned for hours. 

Finally, after the flames somewhat abated, Ned Dayne led the vanguard into the castle. After a half hour, the Dragon banner flew over the waycastle, at least the burned remnants of it; as well as the colors of all the great houses who were involved in the attack flying beneath it. The gates were opened and Ned Dayne marched a small line of survivors to them. Perhaps a few score men had survived the burning, no more. And a small number of creatures had been captured, chained or placed in cages and led by armed men, fated for study by the Citadel. 

The beleagured advance regiments were allowed some rest and relaxation as Gendry rode in to the castle with his retainers and calvary, dismounting and searching for Garlan. He noted the destruction with grim acceptance and found the two Reachman knights sitting with other Green Hands. 

Gendry clapped them all on the back, handing Garlan a wineskin, "Good work today Garlan. Good work. Bloody, but necessary methinks. I would have made the same call if those monsters had savaged my men. Our enemies needed a reminder of the power we wield. It's been years since a dragon has been used in battle in earnest. They'll see the ashes all over the Red Mountains. Let that remind them." 

He looked around and said, "Shame the castle is in such bad shape. But we'll make do. This will be our new forward operating base. I want tents and pavillions set up behind the castle for our men. The heavy infantry and siege weapons will be sent forward and the sappers will dig trenches and stakes there. I'll send Brienne to oversee them. She's a hard bastard, and itching for a fight. We'll siege them throughout the night and rest easy. The majority of the officers will bed here for the night. The sappers will rebuild the fortifications as best as they can, should we be attacked in the night." Visierion alighted on the nearest tower and roared, "Somehow, I doubt it." 

"We'll set up hospital bedding in the supply tunnels for the wounded, send the prisoners down to the base along with the creatures. The Maesters or the Lothsons will want them for study. Maybe even Samwell. For the dead, we shall send the nobles back to Blackhaven, and to their keeps. The soldiers will be buried on this mountain. The enemy, burned. If there is anything left to burn. Save for the monsters, Sam will want those remains. Tonight, let's let those Vulture bastards hear us drink and feast. And in the morning, they'll see our dragon and our army in front of them. You'll join me for supper Garlan, you too Florent. Damn fine job." 

Garlan nodded, taking the wineskin, taking a gentle sip, to sap his thirst. The place still felt boiling, the ash was piled, and bodies were scattered, though most had been burnt into oblivion, swords and shields barely recognizable. It was not a pretty place, the castle had been turned dark with the fire, the heat from the dragon even felt from here, it's breath capable of rendering what it did to this place still something that Garlan would never forget. The smell had faded, but the feeling of ash against plate was a reminder of what had been done here. It was not glorious. It was just an means to an end.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. They'll harass us, try and drag our line. They inflicted some severe losses there, Gendry. We'll set up a perimeter but we can't move by tomorrow, not with our vanguard like this. Never mind momentum, everyone's going to fucking die at this rate." Garlan said, as he took his helm off, exhaling with a pant, wiping the ash and dirt from his face.
"We can't keep going like this. It's fucking madness. The men saw what they saw. They're going to be going through some serious shock. I've seen it myself....that would mess up any man's head. That dragon may have raised spirits, but I saw it with my own eyes. This isn't a war like any we've fought." Garlan added, as frank as he could be with a harsh and bitter tone in his voice, looking straight into Gendry's eyes, with a distinct shell shock, of sorts.

"Our forefathers did, though, sers." Merrel's voice was subtle but heard clearly amidst the interlocution. He was staring at a couple of bloody banners, representing the brothers Imry and Selmy. They had been fine knights. Gallant and Brave. And they had given their lives for this victory. His gaze was lowered and contrite. "We can do as much. We just need to take hold of our bonds and loved ones. If we break down, who will fight for them?" Merrell added, as he eyed his wineskin... and decided not to take a sip.

"I'd rather not have another victory like this one. Because we could lose the entire army, lord Gendry. Still, we have to move on." The Florent knight said.

"Have to....not exactly. We're running our line too thin. The men are going to break if you send them forward again. We need replacement, rest, recovery. Let the enemy build their momentum, they are bottlenecked and trapped on a mountaintop, and if the caves are secure, then we have nothing to worry about, if the information is true. If it isn't, it's a better risk than losing a huge number of forces and routing down the Spine. If they go to that last castle and lose, they'll come back broken or dead, and then we have a problem on our hands when the Vulture King decides he has a mountainside to run down." Garlan took a strong swig of the wine, spitting a little, clearing his throat, dramatic in his tone, hardly understating it, his voice holding strong.

"Men will only go so far, money will only make them do so much, pride and glory, only so much too. The next time we see any beasts like those, and if the line folded from any panic at any point upon seeing it, everyone will die. We came close then. We were lucky, not glorious." Garlan mused, shaking his head, knowing all he'd done so far had led to this. What he had done had to be done, and it had won the fight. But it had done nothing to win the campaign, if anything, it was ground gained for heavy losses, and that didn't add up in the Tyrell commander's head.

"I seriously suggest you give us time. King Jon and Queen Danaerys may feel inconvenienced that their insergency in the Red Mountains is not dead yet when you write to them again. But I assure you, Gendry. That's hardly a fucking inconvenience compared to the levies, mercenaries and Knights of the Reach, Stormlands and Dorne who are very much dead and mangled into bits and have families who won't have their brothers, fathers and sons coming home, or in a destroyed state of themselves." Garlan did not mince words, his voice almost holding completely in venom, his anger not at Gendry, but a fury that seemed to just direct itself at the sheer madness of warfare that they had just enacted right there and then. 

Gendry listened to Garlan and Merrel in respectful silence. Dickon Tarly and Ned Dayne, along with Ronald Storm, Andrew Estermont, Donnel Swann, Prince Oberyn Martell,  Rolland Caron, Harmen Dondarrion, and Aegon Targaryen had found their way to the gathering as Garlan's speech built up steam. As they listened, Lady Brienne on her blue barded horse rode by with a large number of heavy infantrymen from the stormlands and a great number of siege weapons. Elephants that had been transported long ago by the Golden Company rode by as well; kept in the reserve until this moment. 

Finally Gendry nodded, "Indeed. You may be right. All of us here earned our spurs in the War for the Dawn. That was the battle of our lives. And we survived it together. But most of our boys are knights of summer. Unaccustomed to facing monsters and seeing dragonfire." 

He turned to Ronnet, "How many did we lose?" 

"Nearly a thousand of our own, all told. More wounded. And a third of my griffon corps." 

Dickon spoke up, "Aye but for every one we lost, we felled five of them." 

Gendry said, "Your vanguard will be allowed to rest Garlan. Tarth is commanding the vanguard for now. His troops are fresh. But you are right, an attack now could go wrong if we are beset by these beasts again."  

Aegon spoke for the first time, "Let me go and burn the castle. We will end this in an hour." 

The Storm Bull shook his head, "Nay. We need that castle. With it intact we control this mountain, this mountain range. We already have control of the Prince's Pass, the Boneway. The Torrentine and the Wyl. All of the castles are holding steady. We have the Tower of Joy, I'm told the Vulture's Roost will fall swiftly. And we are starting to clear out the tunnel network, though this will take much longer. With the Spine under our control, we will dominate the theater of war. Only Hellgate Hall and their rat tunnels will be left to oppose us. It cannot be risked that we have an attack fail and be turned into a rout. Not with these losses." 

He contemplated it for a few moments, "Reinforcements are marching to us as we speak, they'll be here extremely soon. Ronald, we don't need your scouts here. Fly back to assist the other divisions and you can personally inform the King of our progress by flying to Blackhaven and sending a raven. The Skull has only one approach by the cliff side, but Mirren holds the tunnels. There is no escape. With Brienne beseiging the only path, we can afford to wait. We'll let the siege weapons get into position and we'll let your men rest. Myself and the rest of you will ride out under a peace banner at midday tomorrow. Aegon will accompany us on his dragon. We will offer them their lives if they surrender immediately and throw down their weapons. If not, we can start lobbing rocks at them, soften them up. Have Dondarrion call in his lightning and the Rhoynish call down their hailstones and water needles." 

"By now they'll know that the tunnels are comprimised. No hope of a sneak attack there. If they still haven't given up by the morning after tomorrow, then I will personally lead the first attack with my own troops. I'll go with the ram, Caron with the siege tower. Mirren will penetrate at the same time with her covert teams. Garlan you'll have control of the center, with your personal men holding this castle here. The reinforcements should be all here by the day after tomorrow and it's not enough time to rest, but I'm not giving those bastards too much time to prepare something clever. Are we all agreed?" Most of the lords said aye. Save for Oberyn, who obviously wanted to stick to the original plan. Aegon nodded minutely, clearly wanting to burn the castle down and have done. They all turned to Garlan and Merrel. 

"Aye." Garlan nodded, looking around.
"Glad to hear it, Gendry. The men will need rest here, and if you have reinforcements and fresh men, that will help if we're carrying out an assault. They cannot leave the tunnels either....so I would suggest if it cannot be helped, we potentially destroy any exit routes, force them to stay put, and weaken them through a lack of food, water and medical supplies. An immediate assault will certainly take their attention, however. From a perspective of a siege engineer, I would suggest you are careful about that sorcery on these mountains. Rain could destabilize the cliff we are assaulting, so I wouldn't suggest it for too long." The Tyrell commented, his history in sieges and warfare from the wars past coming to mind, a saying that helped him understand the lay of the land a little better and Gendry's plan.

"We can take that castle. They will fight harder than ever before, and throw far worse at us than just that. But if we do, they will be losing, and losing hard. If we burned the place to the ground, we'd just force them to scurry like rats and be victors of ashes. We need them to capitulate more losses than they can afford, before we do." Garlan added, a comment to make on Gendry's plan, knowing full well the extent of the fighting would continue. 

Gendry nodded, "Choose someone you trust to oversee this castle. This is the fallback point if the worst happens, but we will not fall back any further than this point. Your men can hold this castle with arrows, catapults, scorpions, boiling oil and thousands of men right behind them on the cliffs. And if my ass needs saving, then you come and help me with the centre troops. Seems we are all agreed."  

"Understood. I can take control of that. It'll give you a buffer." Garlan's reply was simple, sharp, and to the point. He had it in him, but knew at least he'd convinced Gendry to push relentlessly and like a raging Stag, with all the forces, all the way up the mountain. The men that had suffered the worst would at least get some rest, or at least, would be expected to be able to do so. He'd made his point clear enough, and knew that he would even himself have to take a moment to just unwind his head. After all, being in the vanguard and nearly getting killed by a fucking human-faced lion with wings that spat poison from it's tail was only a couple hours prior, and fully fresh in his memory. Some water, a wash and some rest would help, for the moment at least.

Merrell silently listened to the words his commanders exchanged. To his opinion, Aegon was wisest of the lot. Why try to defend a charred ruin so much? Better finish the job that had been started with the fight. And yet another battle awaited. So little time to rest, so much to do. Merrell was rather glad his cautiouness had held back his knights in the last assault, having the unwanted but welcomed effect of his troops being slightly less spent. Every single bit helped.

What it was clear is that now, the most painstaking part of the campaign would happen. Root out the last desperate remnants out of their last hole. Already, this was gaining eerie and sinister tints of a last stand. The strategies proposed were drawn out, but were sensible. He pondered how hard this fight was going to be. There was another way of tipping the odds towards their favour, but he didn't want to be overly reliant on sorcery.

"There's another way." A female voice, who had not been invited coyly beckoned from behind Merrell. And the unthinkable happened. Merrell, the semblance of serenity and calmness threw an absolutely venomous glare to the offender. Dressed in rich clothes, with the colors of the Lord of light, Mella Florent stood before the gathering. She coyly looked at each and one of the commanders with one of her haunting green eyes, the other one hidden beneath a luscious lock of purely fiery hair, which was only broken by the tips of her ears poking out the long hair. Even if the Florents had big ears, they didn't detract much beauty from this one. She kept a hand in her voluptuous hip, as she swayed ever so slightly, the folds of her robe letting sometimes see a hint of a well shaped leg.

"Us priests of R'hllor can see through the flames. No matter how small. We will be able to see what they do at each moment." The Florent priestess added. "Unless they live in total darkness. If they so wish to use their unclean sorceries on us once again... we shall purify them with our fire." The woman said assertively. 

Merrell Florent was [i]fuming[/i]. "Please excuse my cousin. She has seen too much today she might have taken leave of her senses." He said between his teeth as he gripped his pommel hard.

Gendry regarded the woman cooly, though most of the commanders, including the young Prince of Dorne glanced at her too long for it to be chivalrous. Only Ned seemed entirely uninterested, and even Dickon seemed to shift uncomfortably with the seductive woman so close. Harmen Dondarrion stared at the woman with a mysterious expression. 

Gendry replied, inclining his head in courtly respect, "Thank you for the offer, my lady. And I am also grateful for the aid that you and yours offered my men on this day. But I won't rely entirely on flames and prophecies. My family has been laid astray by flames before, may I remind you. If you can show us something, that will be helpful, but I won't make it a crutch. Visions are dangerous, as they say. And often they are not literal." 

"Agreed...it's not exactly perfect. There's been enough flames for the day, I think." Garlan mused, shaking his head as he looked up at the mountainside, then back at Gendry.
"Though I imagine the dragon will help us turn the tables. We can't rely on that as a crutch either, I would say. Or else we won't have anything left to hold at all" The Tyrell added, the distant summit visible in the distance. 

Gendry spoke again, "But we can talk about the intricacies of strategy another time. My lady, I would be honored if you would join the commanders for supper. Tonight, we'll reward the men." Caravans of medicine and food supplies had been delivered to the men who were resting around them, septons and septas were ministering to them, but a chorus of cheers and applause rang out through the castle as the whores arrived. Hundreds of them, girls of every description, laughing and flashing their wares to the soldiers and knights as they were lead into the castle on the backs of elephants, the drivers smirking and waving down. 

Gendry laughed, "It's been too long since our boys have seen any women besides nurses, silent sisters, and sellswords. I thought they might relish the chance. Some of you might too. I had them brought in from all over the Marches and Dorne." 

He shouted loud enough for all to hear, "Have at them boys! It's on me!" The cheers renewed and the soldiers chanted the names of their lords and their house words as Gendry laughed again, clapping Garlan on the back, "I'll be in the great hall, need to plan out the disposition of our men.  See you at dinner." 

"I'll see you then. I feel like shit, so that food best be good." He chuckled with a light remark, tired and a little too overwhelmed perhaps at this point, as he saw the convoy roll in. He could only shake his head inconspicuously, not showing disdain or disaproval but disagreement internally, perhaps. This was Gendry Baratheon alright. A man of fear yet who would happily bring a brothel and a half to the top of a mountain. Seven unholy fucking hells, the Tyrell could only think. 

Even if he didn't partake, it didn't sit entirely right in Garlan's mind.  If Ellion was on this campaign, he'd probably tire himself out, but Garlan was a married man, his own honour was to his own, to Leonette. Some men had questionable choices of honour, but he had it firmly. It wasn't something he exactly approved of. The whores would bring pleasure, but to broken men, throwing whores at the problem wouldn't solve everything. Neither would alcohol, as he found out himself in the wars of his younger years. It just created distraction, and whilst it was a relief, it wasn't something Garlan personally approved of anyway. He didn't sometimes like the way that his nephew acted, Ellion's debauchery was but one man, but this was different. Just not right, somewhat. 

The whores could have been left and supplies brought instead, at this haste. Whores couldn't fight. Whores couldn't be drunk or ate, unless you were a fucking Thenn. Garlan was a pragmatist, and whilst the supplies had come, the whores didn't need to be fed or taken. The resources could have been used to supply other forces, or to backup the other castles as a reserve. Sometimes a morale booster was needed, but when the world was as black as it could be, escapism did not bode well, Garlan mused. 

And when this castle would come under attack again, he was not arming an army of paid women of the night, he thought to himself. It felt like Gendry was too arrogant, too soon. Maybe he was wrong....Gendry was a master logistical planner, and he had already planned the entire offensive, faster and quicker in his mind than Garlan could know himself to be able. Maybe he had the confidence to be right and know what was coming, that when they hit the summit, it would be barren and full of afraid men. But something seemd askew. Nearly dying from some beast and then coming to this just seemed completely surreal. The sight of Viseryon in the distance, sitting on the tower, it's eyes looking onto the horizon, gently and deeply roaring, only fuelled the juxtoposition. 

But what the hell, he reminded himself. They had "won" this fight. And yet in his mind, he felt Mirren's words reverberate, what she said to him. Like an insight that somebody was too scared to say, Garlan felt it sink in. These men needed sleep, not sex. And nothing he would say would change that. It was just a commander's opinion, not Gendry's. So he had to let it go, as he himself took the rest of his gauntlets off, walking back towards the armoury, where a few of the other Green Hand were dusting down, treating minor wounds, and cleaning bloody and ash-ridden plate.

----------------

Highgarden

Merlin had accordingly arranged for that dinner, greeting Ser Arthur, pleasantries accounted for, and well, everything setup. The administrator had dealt with each thing in turn, and through his, and Eve's niceties, they had sorted things out. 

And the table was set, Merlin at the helm, food laid out for himself, Arthur and Alester, a meeting that had been awaited. A true chance to get into some meaty business, including the lamb on the table, which he had began to slowly eat, after some initial introductions. But nothing of note. Everyone was hungry, or so Merlin hoped. 

Alester looked at the meal thoughtfully, his bound book of parchments close by, as he took a small, but meticulous sip of the Arbor wine. It was a nice taste, full of fruity hints, and with a fragant aroma. However, he wasn't much of a wine lover, and as such, he could only moderatedly enjoy the taste, as his hand reached for his plate, serving himself the barely minimum of meat to be polite and not offend his host.

He wasn't having much appetite now, what with the state of affairs. Truthfully, the inquisitor was a mixed blessing. The crown's aid on the Gardener issue would prove invaluable, but for a man as thoughtful as Alester, he fully knew that the man only answered to the crown, and ultimately, would only benefit the Justice of the King. Nevertheless, as long as he behaved - and he prayed- the melting pot of his followers stood in line, the investigation would go like a smooth sail.

Besides, his goals and that of both men on the table besides him were coincident right now. He looked at both men in the eyes, while looking at the full plate, waiting for the others to start the conversation.

Arthur, unlike Alester ate with gusto. He may have been more refined, more cultured than many other Northmen, but a Northman he still was and a hungry one. It had been a long journey and he maintain only as much restraint as protocol neccisitated, otherwise drinking and eating his fill. 

After several moments of this, Arthur finished the latest bite of lamb, "My compliments to your cook my lord. You do set a fine table indeed. Everything in the Reach is just so damn well fed." 

"I came straight here from King's Landing, and Lady Sansa sends her compliments and regards as well. She hopes that this partnership will be very fruitful. Indeed, your aunt was a dear friend of mine. I hope that the same may hold true for us." 

"I see to it, Arthur. I am glad to hear, thank you. Our lands are the breadbasket of the Realm, so we see to it we look after our people upon it." Merlin took a bite, knowing that Alester seemed quiet.
"Your presence here is helpful to us, at the very least. I am humble to admit when I see an issue we cannot resolve, and believe me, we have invested much into routing the cause of this issue. I know that even the Maesters of Oldtown seem confused about it all, and when the smartest men of the Realm are coming up blank, it is good to know someone has the audacity to give it a go. That said, Oldtown have sent a man that is arriving tomorrow, a bit of a loose cannon, but he seems like he knows these mysteries well and is willing to help us." He added, taking a gentle bite, looking across to Alester.
"Lord Alester here also seems to agree. The threat is not to just my family, but to his if these Gardeners are a real threat."  

"Indeed I do." Alester seemed to raise a hint of a voice, just tenous enough to be heard as he ate his portion thoughtfully, and not without abundant small sips, like a small predator would nibble the carcass of a fallen prey. He eyed the gleam of the wine under the light of the candles. "Gardeners, the ancestors of both houses, who thought to have perished under the fire, and now... are making a return. Too... much of a tall tale to be true. Anyone with greenblood in his lineage, who has done their best to...rebuild their life after the Targayens ended the Gardeners in the Field of Fire would be infuriated. This country needs not to repeat history, but learn from it." Alester words were somber. "The Seven Kingdoms still bear the scars of recent wars." He added. "It is our duty to mend the wounds that our forebearers inflicted in the kingdoms, after all. I will pool also my resources in this matter."

He added, thoughtfully."The timing is too ...suspicious to not be concerned."

Arthur nodded, sobering from his usual flippancy, "Indeed. The Crown thinks this all is connected. The prevailing theory is that all or some of the different insurgencies and rebellions are connected. We believe that the Scorpions of the Stepstones, the Vultures, the Reynes, the Gardeners, the Fishers, and the Black Kracken are all in league with each other. The Sparrows and Freemen might have a hand as well. And with the emergence of eldritch beasts in our lands once more, well.. these are darkening times indeed. And winter is fast approaching." 

Arthur reached into his travel pack, "We chanced upon this as we travelled." He laid the severed head of a monster on the table. The size of the head made one remember the Mountain that Rides, but if the Mountain had had sickly yellow skin and monstrous horns and batlike ears. "An Ogre the smallfolk were calling it. More than seven feet tall, and had come every night to carry off someone for dinner. We put a stop to it after losing nearly a dozen men. And that was just one creature. And not even a full grown one if the stories are to believed. These rebels appearing while these beasts terrorize the country? Dire times." 

"Seven Hells." He held his throat back, as he shook his head.
"If this spreads....we won't stop it. None of our armies, no matter our number, are going to be able to contain it. We have to stop this madness. It's a frightening thing." Merlin added, resting his fist on the table, shaking his head. It was the first he'd properly seen of such a thing, a shock to the system indeed.

"Whatever you need, Arthur. The Reach isn't a breadbastket alone. There's thousands of soldiers at our behest. And whilst many are not called, they can be raised to isolate islands and pockets of activity. A large land, so you won't be able to travel all of it, and may depend on Lieutenants to go where they come. The men I've had at work have had little luck, but you have brought the first proof to my door, not tales or rumours like some. So I put that confidence into you. I will do whatever it takes to take my Kingdom back, and I shall place that faith into your hands."  

Alester's reaction was blinking at first, then checking out twice the creature. Had it been another wine, he would have sprayed half the table with his cup's contents, but, summoning all of his willpower, and taking a page of the one who taught him in the ways of the sword, Merrell Florent, adopted a placid expression while he chugged down the beverage greedily, somehow achieving a more mellow attitude after seeing...that thing.

"A poor choice of seconds, Ser Arthur. I liked the lamb more." He said, impassively, his emotions restrained as he scrunched up in his thought. A flash seemed to came to his mind, his squinted eyes becoming wide.

"That shan't do, Lord Merlin." Alester announced. "If these creatures are sighted. And if the rebellions are connected... Garlan and Merrell might be facing these in the Vulture roost as we speak. We cannot blindly lash out at this new threat... " Alester announced pensive.

"In a sense this is funny." He finally said, a comment so out of place that stuck out more than the decapitated beast.

Arthur nodded grimly, though his grimness didn't preclude him taking another bite of lamb before speaking, "Indeed. After the attack on the Red Keep, it can no longer be denied. Dark powers have returned to our country, perhaps they never left. And it seems our enemies have at least some connection to them. This is only one variety of monster, there are many more of it's kind and more kinds of monsters. All the tales that our wetnurses and mothers told us about. " 

"And the worst part is, some of them seem to be intelligent. That beast there cursed us in the common tongue. A mangled accent of it. But that monster called all manner of curses and expressions of hate or pain as we struck at it with swords and pincushioned it with arrows. Just one of these beasts is worth a score of soldiers." 

"And if true be told, we would have done for it eventually, but with much more dead. My lieutenant stupidly went in with his men, without waiting for backup and suffered for it. Nearly got the whole unit killed. Until he stepped in. Come in." 

What entered the room looked like a man, but a nightmarish distortion of one. His skin was sickly white, even paler than the average Valyrian, and he walked like a shadowcat or mountain lion, a hunter. A predator. He was clothed in black, contrasting with the white hair that flowed from his shoulders. But unlike the violet eyes of a Targaryen, his were truly a dragon's. They were fiery red, with the reptillian pupils of a dragon. They glowed in the torchlight and seemed to bore into the soul. 

"His name's Kovold. The first experiment from our eccentric friends in Harrenhal. They took an orphan boy and over the years twisted him into.. this, what they call a mutant. He is stronger, faster, tougher, more agile than any man. He is a killer through and through. Would be monster-hunters, normal men, have been trying to face these beasts for the past several years. Sometimes they succeed but with great cost. The Witch of Harrenhal thought that the best way to fight a monster was to make one of our own. He is the one who killed the Ogre and he has killed many other beasts since he first started operating. The Crown is well pleased with his performance." 

Kovold stood impassively, showing almost no hint of emotion other than faint lazy hungry boredom as he stood at attention, "We can't fight both rebels and monsters at the same time. It is thought that the fighting men of the land should focus on bandits and traitors. And that we need another class of men entirely to fight the monsters. Let Kovold handle some of your issues here in the Reach. And if he continues to do well... perhaps it will be time to expand the program. Thoughts, questions my lords? I'm sure you have many." 

"Those who take the war beyond mortals we cannot fight with mortals alone. I fully understand, Ser Arthur. A man from the witches. A witcher of kind, to fight our monsters." Merlin seemed to suggest, in thought, looking up at the man.
"What does he need to do his tasks? I assume food, water, and a bed. All three we can provide. Any perculiarities, I would be interested to know as of now, before he begins his work proper." 

Alester just chuckled to himself, as he eyed the man. He however stopped for a brief moment to offer some courtesy food and a drink for the newly appoint guest. "So that's your solution. One man. Even if he were the finest soldier to walk the earth incarnate, he's but one." The fox lord stood ponderous. "The thing is...you are wrong, Sir Arthur. We are already fighting monsters and bandits at the same time. At least from what I infer in the Dorne campaign, we will have to." Alester added as he served some cup of wine more as he gulped.

"Fortunately, the Crown is not the only one with access to such... things." Alester swirled the wine in his cup." I can offer my own troops. Florents. But before you call me insane, hear me out. These are no normal Florents. They're what was left of Stannis wake, who survived the bitter cold and the war in the North. And who possess the power of the followers of the light." Alester added. "I was afraid to reveal this card, because of past...less than fortunate associations, but chances are, they are probably fighting the monsters of the Vulture's roost as we speak. Should they be successful, they'll be the speartip against this new menace."

"And of course, they'd be for the Crown to command. They're vying for a second oportunity aswell. I suppose this will ease your concerns a little." Alester added as he began to look through his book of parchments.

Arthur dipped his head to Merlin, "He has all the same needs as a man, but needs less of it to function. An optimal ranger to survive for long periods of time without needing daily food nor rest. If he is hurt, he will recover faster from it than an ordinary man. But I cannot say how he was changed, that is a secret that Lady Lothson has been keeping to herself. In fact, this whole project had been something of a secret until she came forward to the Crown with it after the sea creatures attacked us. I will say that once he is in battle, he is... nothing short of a nightmare." 

He turned to Alester, and Kovold remained standing, though he accepted the food and drink with a nod of his head and a grunt, "I do not claim for this to be some final solution. Merely a test run. A proof of concept. There are hundreds, perhaps even thousands of monstrosities hiding in the Reach alone. And they breed. But they aren't an organized threat, simply a hazard. Partner him with some men, and see if he can make good headway into keeping the population safe. If he does, Lady Lothson will start to make more." 

"But the point is to free up our troops to fight our true enemies, our political rivals who wish to undermine our power. Terrible as they may be, these monsters are not a threat to our dominion of the country, simply the welfare of the people. The use of such.. assets allows us to focus our attention on more important matters of state." 

"I admit that the method may have been less than savory, but the boy had no one else. As a serf, Lothson was well within her rights. The King's Laws have not caught up to such developments after all. But we will use every tool we can get our hands on. The Maesters have their artificers, the Northerners have wargs and green men. We need every bit of arcane power to counter our rivals, who are using similar weapons. You are correct that our men in Dorne are facing some such forces. All the more reason for us to develop counter measures. That's why the Citadel bred Griffins, that's why the Dornish gave us Water Mages." 

"As for your Fire Priests.. certainly, they can be useful. We are just worried letting fanatics handle so many problems will breed more strife. I hear rumors from the Citadel that they have found some young men and women who can help with this as well. So, give Kovold the job of handling the monsters. I can handle the Gardeners. We won't have to worry about too many problems at once and we can focus on what really threatens us." 

With a nod from Arthur, Kovold took the ogre head and left the room, causing the guards to shift unsteadily as he walked by, "Give him some Green Hand Knights and they should do well. Now, for the real reason we're all here, I believe I found some information on House Gardener." 

"There are no abandoned keeps like in the West that they could be hiding, so one of the prevailing suspicions is that they either have some new hidden base, or are being harbored by some lord. We are fairly confident that this new House Gardener is descended from House Oldflowers, the bastards of the bloodline." 

"I want to hear it, Arthur. Tell me more." Merlin asked, hearing his suggestion.
"A great number of Knights of the Green Hand are with Garlan in the Red Mountains right now. But we have some spare, if you want them." He added, listening to his suggestion.
"I imagine it shall be interesting to see if they are harboured. Most Houses of the Reach are loyal, overwhelmingly so. There are few internal enemies to House Tyrell. What ones there are, bend the knee quick. So it may be difficult to sift through them, but a task that can be put to mind." Merlin added, his analytical mind spinning a little, as he looked over at Arthur in particular.

"The Reach is mostly flat, but the rolling hills, vinyards and forests can hide men. Small numbers, bandits and such. But it can hide men, where you look carefully enough. Further inland, towards the Red Mountains, there are more caves and hide-holes, so any threat could plausibly come from the south-east, in the Dornish Marches. That would be a respectable base of rest. If not there, then diffuse and across the lands, scattered like seeds in a flowerbed."  

"My best men were committed to those mountains aswell. I can only spare very few" Alester said, crossing his arms and flicking through his ledger. "I cannot lend you the first sword of the Florent either." He kept rereading his observations and assets."What I do have though... is some former spearwives." He added. "As a northman you may know how they can be used. They're mostly retired and being wives and helpers in my house. But one word and they'll help you. Plus, they're more unconspicious than knights." Alester said, as he kept browsing through the pages. 

"I do recall that Mella can see through the flames. But she's in the Dorne campaign. Hm." Alester pondered. "Plus she loves to be the center of attention. No good for this case." He paused."You'll have to do with my ledgers and spearwives I am afraid. I suppose I can hire a few... bards to help you, and maybe even offer you the first sword of the Florents for a limited amount of time.

"Spearwives you say? Indeed. They would be useful. Expert trackers, forresters, hunters. The perfect scouts. They'll be put to good use. As for your cousin, I had heard that fire priests can communicate with each other over great distances through their flames. Perhaps if you have one in Brightwater, they can coordinate with them? A seer would be a great help in trying to find the Gardeners, though I understand that their visions and prophecies can be somewhat.. open to interpretation." 

"We can use the knights for official inquests, give the air of authority. But the spearwives can be our unofficial eyes and ears. I thank you. But on my end, I can start asking questions, go around to the different families. If either of you know anyone who might have sympathies for the Gardener regime, that would be most helpful. And meanwhile, I will hunt down the Gardener soldiers tramping over the Reach. They like to harass food shipments to the capital. Perhaps a trap can be set for them. If I take some prisoners, it could help us find out more." 

"They sent a strong message at the Stoney Sept with their endorsement of the massacre of the smallfolk there. We must answer in kind, wipe out one of their dens. And I fear they may seek to target House Tyrell next. Their claim rests on ousting yours. This gives me an idea on how we could set a trap for them." 

"Go on, Arthur." Merlin did not say much, for he wanted to listen. After all, he had little additional insight- the Inquisitor was bringing a lot to the table, of matters beyond his control of a large part of the realm.
"If they harrass the food, more men will be required to guard it. A problem to the finances of my house. I don't intend to lose more gold in committing to that, so it seems sensible to entrap them, frighten them from going for it." Merlin mused, looking back to Arthur.

"Mmh. It is worth a try. I am aware of their power... but they're a reserved lot. They'd expect me to hand out some concessions for that use. But I can try." Alester added, as he went through his book. "Guarding and finances... Hm, that would be a bit of a conundrum. I am afraid I am in the same situation, and as things stand, I cannot spare some money for Tyrells without invoking the ire of my house. If we were tied..." Alester added as he mused to himself, before addressing Arthur. "I mean, there are several ways to bypass the problem but none seems straightforward. So ser knight, what is your idea?"

"You are my vassal, Alester. Ties aren't needed to ask for more money. You may not like that, and in fact, you have a right to tell me where to stick my request, in concert with other Lords, by the rights of the realm. But it's the same right I hold as Steward of Highgarden that allows me to send the ravens to call your men to war from any given vassal, to ask for your additional support in that. I haven't asked House Florent for a great deal of men, and many Houses are bearing the brunt, Houses that aren't even in the Southern Reach or close to the conflict in the Red Mountains. Be careful with what words you use in front of me, Alester. We need to deal with the matter at hand before we talk about those matters, besides." Merlin barbed back at Alester, a slight remark that had to be made to just bring him back. Alester was clearly capable, Merlin could tell that, but a little rightedness, even implied, had to have a concequence. 

"The point is to reduce the number of rebels, m'lord. Not raise them. I have no right to oppose a formal request for funds, and that is one of the options which you could use to bypass the problem. However, it is no secret that old wounds can reopen under strain. I appeal to your wisdom in that regard." Alester said, bowing down to Merlin. "When that happens, I can kiss goodbye to my head, and the one after me, might not be so palatable." 

"Welcome to being a Lord. Plenty of time to do unpopular of things, and given my problem also seems to be yours, it seems unfair that I alone will be forced to bear that cost. That is a matter for another day. Arthur, as you were saying?" Merlin retorted, looking back across from Alester.

Arthur regarded the whole matter with faint embarassment at watching the small spat, but barreled on, "Peace my lords. There is no need for such strife. I can appeal to the Crown to send more men here and ease the burden on the Lords of the Reach if the situation gets more advanced. But we can stop it before it heads that way." 

"I have an idea. Organize a major caravan to the capital, say it's part of the Tyrell contributions to the upcoming hatching ceremony that the royal family will hold in celebration. And the expected victory celebrations of course. Let it leak that members of noble houses will be accompanying the procession, especially Tyrells. They will take the bait. And we can take prisoners, and extract more information there. For their upstart rebellion, such a target is simply too irresistible. They'll know that many of the men are engaged in the Red Mountains, and as such they won't expect stiff resistance. But myself and many others can disguise ourselves as simple workers bringing the food to the capital. We can catch them off guard." 

"Then we can see if any of them know where the Gardeners are hiding. If not, we will strike a blow all the same, and yours houses can get money from the trading of those goods at market and in the Red Keep. An elegant solution to my mind. And of course, no nobles will be truly in harms way, just dressed up servants if need be. Thoughts?" 

"A risk. A considerable one, that could go completely to shit." Merlin bluntly said, as he chuckled, taking a bite of lamb straight after, nodding in approval.
"But one I am on board with. The only problem is, you'd need an actual Tyrell to follow that convoy. Or a real noble, that they see leaving the castle, or even this very Keep. They can have watchers and whilst our plan is watertight now, the moment it goes to the men, it can change and diffuse. So it has to be real...or the illusion won't work. In the armories, your men can disguise and be relatively unrecognizeable, walk out, and if they are in this castle, watching our moves, then they will get away with it. That is not the same with any noble. They will have an eye, and any slip of detail or character, that will ring alarm bells about the rest of it. Make it no longer worth attempting, and futile." Merlin suggested, as he took the goblet of wine on the table, gently shaking the Arbor Gold.

"So you'd need real bait. I wouldn't go, that's suicide. I have the nerve and know it'd be the best thing, but if I die, it'd be a huge bloody inconvenicence, and leave the castle without anyone able to administer it. Can't rule if I'm dead.  If Ellion was here, he'd take this for all he could. There is one lad, but you'd need to promise me I'm not going to send him to die." Merlin added, looking across at Arthur, leaning in.
"Garlan's son, Martyn, was out there swinging his sword and his father told him not go to on the campaign with him. He isn't good enough a fighter yet for what they are up against. But I know he wants a little glory. My nephew can do that for us. It makes sense, giving him a role and responsibility in that chaos. Add a couple of others, and it may work." 

"I'll do it." Alester said, as he closed his book, sighing. "No need for lads." 

Merlin looked across, nodding. It was an impressive thing, a step up.
"Very well. If you're willing to take that risk. You're the Lord of your House, and if you go, you need to know what the concequences are." Merlin mused, positive about the affair, not wanting to stir anything up, but just to raise an awareness, clarity even, that he was impressed. 
"Alright then, Arthur. It seems it can be done. We can pull it off, and the strings can be arranged rather naturally. I needed a convoy sent in the next week, after all, something larger anyway." 

Arthur nodded, "Yes. This will do very well. The Lord of Brightwater Keep will be a prime target. And the emnity between your two houses is well known. The Gardeners could see Alester's capture as an opportunity to convince him to the cause as well. And I am confident that Lord Alester and all of our men, including myself can pull this off." 

"We can ask the Tarlys to send a few others to make it even more attractive, Samwell and Dickon are friends of the Crown as well. With the wagons of food and goods, we can hide soldiers in their own wagons. I believe this will be a gambit that can finally give us one over on the Gardeners. I brought some members of my houses' elite guard along. Master archers and swordsmen all. Together, we should have little trouble." 

"That could work." Merlin commented, hearing what Arthur suggested, as he nodded in agreement.
"Alright then. We'll make it so then. A simple trap can go sour fast, but if it is the option we have, then we use it to pull them into the open." 

-------------

King's Landing

Alerie could see she was already having an effect on Tom, the fire in his voice was rising a little. Tyrells were like that, a rose to embolden their other seemed to resonate, like an aura somewhat, as she kissed him.

"Certainly. Neither of us wants harm to the Targaryens. But we want our own houses to prosper. All you say shall happen, and we will find resistance, enemies who will stop us, inside, outside of our Houses, or the Realm. They don't matter. It's going to happen." She added, her voice like thorns wrapping up his spine, runny like wine yet like a rose's sharpened embrace.

"My brother as Lord of the Reach....hmmm. I think whilst he's so good with his sums and his administration, he's too much like my father and suited to be nothing more than just average. A good Lord, good at all that needs to be done, but no more. And Ellion could never rule....he can only fuck and fight, and as good as he is at both, that doesn't help us really. You know what they say about Ladies of the Reach though. We are the real matriarchs of our House. That is a fact that most don't think is true. But....I'll tell you now...." Alerie added with a grin, as she locked tongues with him, atop Tom, smirking as she brushed his blonde hair out of the way.

"We're quite good at it." She giggled, continuing to lay atop him, sighing as she looked into Tom's golden-green eyes with her own golden-brown.

"We will find our edge, me and you. You will be Hand and I will be by your side to help you." Alerie, lying atop Tom Lannister, knew that whilst he had changed, she had not. She had changed him, and her own thorny rose was able to work to that advantage. She always knew the ladder had to be climbed, that whilst Tom would be the face that ruled, she would be by his side and retain her family's influence in a position of power. Tom would have his way, but she would be inside him on a further level, and it started from now, the Rose knowing her seed had been touched by the Lion's, but much in the same way as it had physically occured, she had mentally done it the other way around, perhaps time would tell what that seed would grow into and become, as Alerie Tyrell knew it could be decades till the fruits of her choices would be beared.

Tom stared into her eyes, instantly excited and aroused by her gaze and her words, knowing on some level that this woman would either help him reach great heights or contribute to his destruction, and not caring. He knew he loved her then, fiercely and truly. Whatever happened in the future, whatever strife their union may cause, whatever enemies rose to oppose them, even if they were his own family, Tom knew he would have her by his side through it all. And to hell with the rest. 

He kissed her then, and the kiss turned into much more. 

It was a while till the two had done, and other things had come up in her quarters, namely the knocking that had come at the door. Alerie rolled the sheet onto him and put her finger on her lips to indicate to keep quiet, as she took her own nightgown, the sun raising outside the window, as she headed to the door. She opened it, keeping close to the door, the sight of a Tyrell guard, dressed in a relatively pleasant green-cloth embroidered plate, and a simple open helm, that covered his head- even the Tyrell guards smelled a tiny bit of Rose Oil, which was rather strange to observe. 

"My Lady. Lord Willas would like to see you in his quarters." He said, as Alerie chuckled, her head mostly peeking the door, as she nodded, a little red.
"Certainly. Tell him I'm coming along in a few minutes. I still need to dress...and my handmaidens aren't needed. Let them get a little rest." She said to him, as the guard nodded, before stepping away, a little clatter in his armour, as she shut the door, sighing.

"Sorry. Looks like I need to go. And I imagine your father probably will want you later too. We shouldn't make this fully clear. Not yet. Imply it at most, Tom." She seemed to have a certain accent that neither was too harsh or too soft in her voice, as she began to pick up her dress, the green and golden garb a little more casual rather than overtly formal, slowly dressing herself. 

Tommen smiled, rising from the bed and kissing her before beginning to dress himself, though in a much plainer and more discreet outfit than the usual red or gold velvet. It wouldn't do for some coal boy to see him walk out of the Tyrell quarters at such an hour. It took a bit longer to dress than it should have, every few moments the young lion went out of the way to playfully prod his rose. But in the end they managed to and Tom said, "Not to worry, all Lannisters are masterful liars after all. In fact, he may even bring up the notion himself today, he and Willas have been awfully friendly lately." 

He held her by the waist for the moment, "When can I see you next?" 

Alerie turned, as she did the last fastner of her dress, her red hair brushing a little against her skin, a distinct grin on her face as she felt Tom's embrace.

"I have a funny feeling you won't wait long, then you won't ever have to ask again. This is only the beginning of things to come when you're with me. I shall see you soon, Ser Tom." And with it, she pecked him gently on the cheek with a giggle and a grin, Lady Alerie smelling of roses quite literally as she left Tom's hands, walking out of the room, walking through the corridors of the Keep and towards the Master of Coin's quarters, or her father's home away from home. 

Tom smiled after her and let several minutes pass before slipping out of the room himself and making himself scarce. His hair wasn't combed, dressed in servant's rags, with a less confident gait akin to a peasant, he wasn't recognized at all. He returned to his own quarters in the Tower of the Hand, and changed to a relaxed Lannister outfit as a page arrived and informed him that his Lord Father desired his presence. Tom entered the Hand's office and found Tyrion sitting at his desk. Tyrion smiled at him, "Come, Tom, I wanted to discuss some small matters with you. You are nearly a man grown after all. It's time you started the game." 

And Alerie did the same, albeit not looking like a peasant as she headed to her father. She looked like Lady Alerie Tyrell would, nothing really out of the ordinary, as she walked into Willas's quarters. He sat at the desk, quill in hand, looking across at his daughter.
"You're looking well. How's King's Landing treating my daughter? I thought you'd find this city a little too noisy."
"Good, thanks. I think I'm enjoying it here...outside of the noise. Got plenty of things to do." 
"Glad to hear it. I have a few things to discuss too, a few things you could help me with and attend. You may not have a financial nous, but the men of Braavos do business and trades with our Kingdoms that I think you should at least see in my line of work. A little book keeping that'll help you when you eventually find a Lord to marry, I am sure."