Chapter 170

The Iron Plain. 299 AC.

Jasper Redfort.

Across the vast expanse of the Iron Plain a great battle raged between thousands of men. The banners of the Vale, the Reach, and the Stormlands mingled in a bloody slaughter where neither side would yield an inch. Jasper had brought only five thousand men with him; more, unfortunately, could not be spared. The remaining were occupied guarding Darry, Harrenhal, and the supply lines, as well as besieging the smaller strongholds.

His army was fresh and eager, having marched out well ahead of the main host and waited only for the moment it would be called to battle. Jasper himself could not fathom why, with both sides fielding roughly equal numbers, Lord Arryn had chosen to split his forces in two. Jasper had no doubt in his countrymen and believed they could win a straightforward fight easily enough, but he had not dared question his lord's orders. Not once had the Falcon's eye's plans ever failed. If it was needed, then it was needed.

"So this is Tyrell's army," Bart said, surveying the battlefield. He was a trusted knight in service to House Redfort. "Not bad, not bad. I expected worse."

"Tarly personally raised this army, so naturally it's good." The talents of that Bloody Hunter were acknowledged by everyone, friend and foe alike.

"Only they haven't managed to advance an inch in any direction," Bart noted slyly. "Yes, that surprises me too." Jasper had expected the battle to be difficult, and so, just in case, he had brought his reinforcements up ahead of schedule. Now he felt a flicker of shame, for it was hardly the first time he had disregarded his lord's orders and found himself in an awkward spot. He had thought the situation would be dire, yet here his allies stood stable, with no trouble expected for hours yet.

"Five thousand is only enough to crush one flank."

"If someone's afraid, he's welcome to go back to Harrenhal."

"Are you joking? I'm only just getting excited."

"Good." The friendly banter was over; it was time to kill. "All forces, advance!"

...

"The third line has broken. Ser Arrick is calling for reinforcements."

"Lord Plumwood is in trouble as well."

"Ser Bormund has regrouped and is ready to rejoin the fight."

The situation on the field was grim and worsening by the second. Unexpected enemy reinforcements had struck the right flank like a battering ram. Had the field commanders not recovered and acted swiftly, an entire wing of the army would have been lost. The knights of the Reach had managed to halt the enemy's advance, but the pressure bearing down on them was no small thing. It was only a matter of time before the defenders broke under the enemy's weight.

Reports poured in from every side, the situation growing worse by the moment, and someone had already suggested retreat, but Willas Tyrell remained calm. He knew one simple truth: if they could hold on just a little longer, they would be able to change the shape of the battle entirely.

"Send the second and fourth companies to reinforce the right flank. Tell them to hold as long as they can." A stopgap solution had come to him quickly enough, though in his heart he was placing his hope in the speed of his allies.

…

Axel Arryn.

The battle continued to intensify, growing especially fierce on the left flank. In the center, by contrast, things had grown more... stable. Over the course of the fighting, the enemy knights' battle fervor had burned away, and in its place had risen the instinct to survive. Small wonder, when heaps of the boldest men's corpses lay scattered around me and my personal guard. Even so, the battle showed no sign of ending.

"AH." Another unlucky Hightower knight went to join his ancestors. "Arthur, how do things stand on the left flank?"

"One moment." My guard's opponent fell dead after five blows, and he turned his attention to me. "Lord Jasper sends his apologies, my lord, but the enemy is fighting to the death. He promises a breakthrough within the half hour."

"I see..." Elena's raven fussed above me. "Cover me." Something about the whole situation didn't sit right with me; my instincts were sounding the alarm even without any outside prompting.

"Understood." Arthur immediately organized a screen of shields while I dismounted.

"Hm... This... hm..." I had always been sensitive to the tremors of the earth, and I did not like what I felt now. "...When did the Iron Plain become such a popular destination?"

"My lord?"

"Arthur, have the right flank regroup. An attack is coming from the south." Twenty minutes later, an army of ten thousand swords arrived from the south. Embroidered on the great standard at the heart of the host was a golden tree upon a snow white field: the arms of one of the mightiest houses of the Reach. House Rowan had come to the field.