Chapter 464 - The Conflict with the Reach.

Chapter 464: Chapter 464 - The Conflict with the Reach.

[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Reach, 300 AC.

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Jon watched Willas the entire time through the birds. He had to admit that the heir to Highgarden was quite courageous to decide to meet them in person, still hoping to maintain good relations with Arctic.

That was why Jon had no intention of doing anything against him there. After all, he did not bear the same resentment he held toward the Lannister men.

They had entered into an alliance alongside his enemies, that was true. They were enemies now. There was also the matter of the rebellion, when Mance Tyrell had decided to lay a pointless siege to Storm’s End and remain there until the end of the war... Even so, Jon still had his honor and his word, and he intended to honor whatever agreement was made there.

The castles of the Reach would remain standing. The Tyrells’ punishment would come only after the war. And honestly, they would already be in a difficult situation once the Arctican army that had arrived from the west joined forces with the army from King’s Landing.

If the Tyrells still owed him money, he would certainly take that opportunity to collect it. But they really had fulfilled the agreement made years before.

Now, none of that mattered anymore. Jon simply waited. He advanced a little farther south accompanied by his principal men, moving away from the rest of the army to meet Willas.

Soon he spotted the small group escorting him approaching. When they finally stood face to face, Jon remained still, while all of his men also took their places at his side, ignoring the curious and apprehensive looks from the Reach knights.

Then he turned to the Kingsguard who had escorted Willas. "Thank you for your service."

"It is an honor, Your Grace," the man replied before stepping back with the others, leaving only the necessary space between the two groups.

Jon watched Willas approach cautiously, studying every face as though carefully considering the words he would use.

"It has been some time, King Arctic," Willas said, and his gaze, like everyone else’s, shifted to the most renowned knight standing beside Jon, Barristan Selmy. Willas and his companions could not hide their surprise at the sight, but Willas soon turned back to Jon, who gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"Yes. That’s true, Lord Tyrell. My cousin told me about you. She told me about the meeting you had in Winterfell and later in White Harbor."

Willas merely nodded and turned back to Arya. "It is good to see you again, Lady Arya. I see you are even more beautiful than the last time." His tone was completely sincere.

Arya merely cast Jon a sidelong glance, while he kept a neutral expression. "You’re still as gallant as ever, aren’t you, Lord Tyrell? You still haven’t given up?"

"Well... compared to the other ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, none can compare to you."

Arya did not smile. She merely let out a small sigh and gave a slight shrug. "I’d rather you find another woman to court, Lord Tyrell."

Willas looked somewhat embarrassed by the rejection, but simply nodded, keeping a faint smile on his face. It was the third rejection he had received from that girl.

At least she was not looking at him with disdain like some women who were apparently unimpressed by the prospect of becoming the future Lady of Highgarden and did not want their husbands to be a cripple like him.

In any case, Willas turned his attention back to the king. "Your men said that you have no intention of harming me and that you will honor any peace negotiations."

Jon nodded, maintaining the same expression. "I have no intention of harming you here, Lord Tyrell. Not unless we are standing on opposite sides of a battlefield. I believe you came to speak about Highgarden, and I am willing to talk with you."

Willas studied him for a few moments, narrowing his eyes slightly. "So that is your objective? Is it really Highgarden?"

It was no coincidence that Jon was marching south. "Exactly."

"So this is how it is going to be, King Arctic?" Willas asked.

Jon made a slight grimace. "Isn’t that obvious, Lord Tyrell?" His voice carried a hint of irritation.

"I don’t think I need to explain why we’re doing this, do I? I imagine you’re intelligent enough to understand that as well. We’re at war. We stand on opposite sides. The Tyrells have been my enemies ever since they chose to ally themselves with the Lannisters. Your sister is about to marry the Lannister bastard in two days, while Sansa has already married the Lannister dwarf."

Sansa’s marriage had already taken place, and his cousin’s situation was far from good. The young woman’s face bore a large scar left by the queen herself, a mark that suited her face perfectly. Since Sansa Stark was the only Stark Cersei could take her revenge on, she had used her.

Tyrion Lannister even seemed like a pleasant person to talk to and did not appear to harbor any malice. Even so, Jon could not help but see a certain irony in Sansa’s fate.

She had abandoned Winterfell, put her own family in danger, believed she would marry a prince and become a queen... All she had received from the south were empty promises. She had watched her father die, suffered psychological abuse, and had been tortured by the queen and Joffrey. Now, she was married to a dwarf.

In Jon’s eyes, that was still a small price to pay for what Sansa had done to the Starks.

Naturally, he would never say that out loud. Arya certainly would not want to hear it. Even though she was also dissatisfied with Sansa at that moment and blamed her for their father’s death, she was still her sister.

Jon turned his attention back to Willas, who remained silent. "In any case, there is no way to stop this marriage. The Tyrells are already tied to the Lannisters. The men of the Westerlands have just sacrificed thirty thousand men to stop our campaign into the Reach, something I imagine you are already aware of."

Willas merely nodded.

"If you were to turn against them now, I would call you cowards," Jon said calmly.

Willas understood perfectly. Kevan’s sacrifice had achieved exactly the desired effect. Now the Tyrells also owed the Lannisters a moral debt. If they had refused to face the Arcticans and returned to King’s Landing, they could have used that as an excuse to cancel the alliance. No one in the future would have blamed them, but now... things were different.

After accepting that thirty thousand men had died to protect the Reach, breaking that alliance would only show all the kingdoms that the Tyrells’ word held no value. That the Reach was cowardly... And for a great kingdom, its reputation could be worth far more than the number of soldiers it possessed.

"In any case, we are going to take Highgarden, Lord Tyrell. No matter how small the force you are gathering may be. I would rather you not sacrifice their lives and simply surrender. I will not harm any noble inside the castle."

Jon spoke in a sincere tone.

Willas lowered his head for a moment before meeting the king’s green eyes. "Forgive me, King Arctic, but I cannot accept those terms."

"Then we will have no choice but to fight for Highgarden. Just don’t blame me for what I will have to do to take the castle."

Willas could not help but tighten his grip on the reins. He was in an extremely difficult position.

Should he surrender? If he did, he would be seen as a weak man. But at the same time, the moment that army reached the walls and used those explosive weapons to demolish Highgarden, what would be the point of insisting on defending a doomed castle?

Jon himself had made that clear between the lines...

"I would rather defend the honor of House Tyrell, King Arctic. I hope you understand that." His voice remained polite.

Jon merely nodded. He could not deny that, in a way, he was pleased with his answer. At least the man had courage. "Very well. I believe you, Lord Tyrell. Then I wish you good luck in the war that lies ahead." He paused briefly. "I don’t think we have anything else to discuss."

Willas nodded as well. "I would wish you luck too, but I think I’d rather not..." he said, his tone carrying a quiet apology.

Jon merely shrugged. "Very well. Then we shall meet again in a few days. You may go. No one will stop you."

Willas let out a sigh of relief upon hearing that. He quickly turned his horse around and rode back to where the rest of his escort was waiting.

Throughout the entire ride back, not a single word was spoken. Even so, Willas understood perfectly what his men were thinking.

Only when they reached the rest of the group did someone finally break the silence.

"My lord... I think you were right not to surrender. But at the same time..." The knight hesitated for a moment. "We saw their army. I almost lost the courage to keep going."

"I know," Willas replied. "Impressive, isn’t it?"

"More than impressive... terrifying. There were giants wearing full suits of armor. We also saw all those wagons. And according to the reports coming from the north, they used wildfire to destroy the enemy army. Just look at the burned fields where the battle took place."

Willas remained silent for a few moments. "We have no choice. We cannot surrender so easily."

If he did, he would be cursed for the rest of his life. The lords of the Reach themselves would never accept seeing him rule the kingdom after his father... He would be viewed even more poorly than his father already was...

Everyone would treat him with even less respect than they already treated his own father.

Slowly, the formation returned to Highgarden. Before long, Willas was informed that another three thousand newly recruited farmers had arrived and were beginning to gather in the city.

It could not be defended if the Arcticans reached it. Only one option remained. Try to stop them before they reached Highgarden and destroyed the castle... or the city itself.

Fear spread among the population. With no other alternative, Willas ordered that all civilians be brought inside the walls. At the same time, he ordered that all the available food from the nearby villages be stored inside the castle.

It did not seem like a truly effective solution. But it was the only one available.

At least eighteen thousand men were already equipped and prepared to fight. Shortly afterward, part of the cavalry rode out to meet the Arcticans, even knowing that many of them would never return.

Willas merely watched everything from the balcony. He saw the army marching beyond Highgarden’s reach while thousands of people sought shelter behind its walls.

If Jon had witnessed that, he would probably have called them fools. His objective had never been to attack civilians. He would have simply ignored the city.

Now, however, everyone was inside the castle. That meant they could inevitably end up caught in the crossfire. Not even the presence of women and children would make Jon refrain from attacking an enemy fortress.

The following day, the Arctican scouts finally located the Reach force of eighteen thousand men north of Highgarden.

The Arctican army was already prepared. Jon rode to the front line and met the enemy commander.

Before a single word was spoken, his eyes swept across the enemy ranks.

He saw nervous and frightened men. Most had never fought in a war. They had neither been born nor trained for such a thing. Jon almost felt sorry for them.

Despite their greater numbers, they would be destroyed with ease. Not when there were no true warriors among them. They would never be able to hold their formation against the Arcticans, no matter how hard they tried.

Their armor was simple, much of it hastily improvised. Their swords barely seemed to have a proper edge.

The Reach had armed those men out of sheer desperation. They were nothing more than peasants sent to the slaughter, used only to delay the enemy’s advance.

Jon interrupted his thoughts when the enemy commander finally raised his voice.

"Stay away from these lands, savage."

Jon raised an eyebrow slightly. A smile soon appeared on his face.

"Let’s see... second-rate armor. Sloppy posture. That slightly protruding belly makes it clear you indulge in good food quite often. What do you think, Lancelot?" Jon asked.

"He definitely doesn’t look like a real knight, Your Grace," Lancelot replied.

"We also have heavy eyes, a puffy face, and flushed skin. Those are certainly the traits of a man addicted to wine."

"He’s nowhere near a warrior who has spent his life training," Lancelot gave his verdict. "If you’re the knight the Reach chose to face me, I’m sorry. But the real savages here are you, not us," Lancelot added, maintaining a calm expression.

"Shut your mouth, creature from beyond the Wall. Your mother would have been nothing more than a whore here in the south. Instead, I’m sure she was raped by your father when he sacked her village, wasn’t she?" the knight mocked, trying to provoke him.

Jon merely shook his head. None of them were truly affected by that kind of insult.

"I’m sure his mother would be very proud that he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, that even a man like Barristan Selmy, who once served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard of these kingdoms, a capable man who stands among the leadership of the most powerful army in the world, speaks six languages, and is anything but incompetent..." Jon replied, turning toward the man.

"You, at best, can read the Common Tongue and possess no knowledge beyond that. You’re certainly not a good commander either. Otherwise, you’d be in King’s Landing, not here."

The knight’s face immediately turned red with anger. Before he could answer with more insults, Jon raised his voice.

"Men of the Reach!"

His voice echoed across the entire battlefield.

Even the horses on the other side took a few steps back at the sudden rise of that deep, impossibly resonant voice. Thanks to magic, Jon could do that with ease.

"I’m certain that none of you are warriors."

"You’re here because you were forced to stand in this position."

"You’re farmers."

"Fathers."

"Sons."

"Not men born to fight and die for their superiors."

"I give you my word that I will not lay a hand on any commoner of the Reach outside this battlefield."

"Just as I have done throughout this entire campaign, I have avoided towns and villages. You can see for yourselves to the north. No town or castle north of here has been attacked by us."

"You..." the enemy commander, whose name Jon had not even bothered to ask, tried to interrupt him. It did not matter. Jon simply continued.

"I have no interest in fighting you."

"My only objective is to take Highgarden."

"I will use my strength only to conquer the heart of this kingdom."

"Nothing more."

"That is why I ask you not to waste your lives today."

"My men are trained warriors."

"You will stand no chance."

"I know you are not here for glory."

"You are defending your lands."

"But we did not come to destroy the Reach."

"Those who wish to leave this battlefield may do so."

"I guarantee that no noble will raise a sword against you."

Jon spoke with absolute conviction. He knew that many would be branded as cowards if they abandoned the army. Even so, it was the only way to spare their lives.

He did not harbor the same hatred toward the men of the Reach that he felt for the soldiers of the Westerlands.

He might have had disagreements with the lords of that kingdom, but he had never intended to harm the common people.

His voice echoed across the entire battlefield, but no one moved.

The men merely exchanged glances. There was fear, there was uncertainty. There was even a certain temptation to accept the offer. Even so, not a single one of them took a step out of formation.

Jon let out a sigh, and the enemy commander began to laugh.

"Did you really think you could shatter the morale of the Reach army?" he shouted mockingly.

Jon merely shook his head. "We have nothing more to discuss. My message has been delivered." With that, he turned his horse around.

"You’ll be running away with your tail between your legs before the day is over!" the taunting continued.

"Did I mention your mother was a whore!? She must have regretted bringing someone like you into the world!"

Jon’s men immediately became enraged. Jon merely closed his eyes for a moment. "We’ll deal with him on the battlefield."

"Killing him now won’t bring any advantage to either of us. In any case, his life is already forfeit." As he spoke, the entire army began making preparations.

The two sides were separated by roughly five hundred meters.

"Set up the siege engines," Jon ordered.

The dwarves quickly began unloading the equipment’s components from the wagons.

They worked with such efficiency that, in less than half an hour, enormous siege engines had been fully assembled, ready to launch their projectiles.

The Reach commander simply waited, expecting the Arcticans to advance first.

He wanted to force them to cover the entire distance, exhausting the giants and soldiers before the fighting reached hand-to-hand combat. Since none of the giants had mounts, making them run would leave them vulnerable once they grew tired.

It was a logical strategy.

The problem was that he did not have enough information about what had truly happened in the north. The rumors about the range of the Arctican weapons sounded far too absurd to be taken seriously.

When all the siege engines were ready, the giants were the first to act. Each of them raised their bows after fitting arrows that looked more like enormous harpoons in the eyes of ordinary men.

The men of the Reach watched in surprise at first.

Then... came fear.

The first volley tore through the sky. The gigantic projectiles came crashing down directly upon the enemy army.

"Shields!" the commander shouted.

But those men had never fought together. Lacking coordination, they reacted too slowly. Some managed to raise their shields. Others simply remained frozen in fear.

The massive arrows pierced through bodies, shields, and armor before many of them could even understand what was happening.

Soon after, a second volley followed.

Then a third.

The siege engines fired without pause, while the giants continued launching their massive projectiles, turning the front ranks into an outright massacre.

Men screamed in desperation. No one could believe that those weapons were capable of striking a target from such an incredible distance.

Willas had warned that commander to stay as far away from the giants as possible. But he had not listened.

He believed he would win that battle. He believed he would be remembered as a hero. The battle continued and quickly turned into a massacre.

The men began retreating in desperation. The arrows fired by the giants made any attempt at resistance virtually impossible. Even with shields raised, many soldiers had their arms shattered by the impact. They were strong men from working the fields, but they had spent much of their lives poorly fed.

Their muscles and bones simply could not withstand the force of those projectiles. They screamed in agony as they dropped their shields and fled the battlefield.

They had come to defend their lands, but all they found was despair and pain.

That was when the Arctican cavalry charged. As soon as the enemy formation began to break apart, around eight thousand horsemen launched their assault.

The charge tore through the Reach army like an arrow piercing its target. The battlefield became a living nightmare for everyone.

Men fled in terror. Officers shouted desperately, trying to reorganize the ranks, but they were incapable of doing so...

But what could they do? Those men had never been warriors.

Meanwhile, the offer Jon had made just minutes earlier echoed through the minds of many of them once again. The cries of the dying, the sound of horses collapsing, and the thunder of the cavalry charging at full speed only deepened their regret.

They should have accepted the offer. Now they were being cut down like flies.

They were incapable of standing against a professional army. Even the Arcticans who had never fought in Essos still carried the experience of the war against the dead, the battles in the North, the campaign in the Iron Islands, the invasion of the Westerlands, and the battle against the Lannister army.

By now, they were veterans. On the other side stood nothing but hastily conscripted farmers.

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