((Collab with
@Ezekiel))
The Vale
The Mountains of the Moon
The clans of the Mountain had grown bold in recent years and while that had allowed them some minor form of prosperity, it made them easier to find.
A rumble rolled forth from Syrax as she rested beside her mistress, Rhaenyra watched the craggy foothills below as she placed a gentle hand on the dragon's snout. She was garbed in the same apparel that she had been crowned in, minus a few stylistic choices, and adding a few further elements of protection. Still, the royalty of Westeros rode atop dragons to war, their regalia of battle allowed for some element of style over substance, and she appeared very much the Queen she had in the Court of the Vale a short time before.
A variety of those assembled had been inducted into the new knightly order of the Vale, and those sworn-swords present and able to do battle, had offered their strength for the endeavour. To call the Mountain Clans, when forced into the open, a true challenge might be something of an insult to the power of lance and fire, but it would certainly do to baptise the new order in blood, as it were.
The Queen turned from the sight before her, lent by the outcrop on which her, and those most pressing in the command of their efforts, watched the gathering of their foe below; "It seems they've arrayed themselves before us, as much as one could expect." As the Queen spoke, a servant moved behind her, beginning to braid and otherwise prepare Rhaenyra's long mane of truesilver into a manner more befitting of war. Once this was complete, her crown was returned to her head. The clan had nothing with which to strike at her from dragonback, and so she need not temper her appearance with the pure functionality of a helm.
Ser Eddison Arryn, the first to be inducted by Queen Rhaenyra into the Brotherhood of the Sky and one of its premier commanders stood at the dragon queen's side, the foremost of her followers in the Vale. Edd wore the same armor he had on that fateful day in the High Hall, save with the addition of a silvered winged helm. And instead of his sky blue cloak, he wore a black cloak with the sigil of the Brotherhood of the Sky emblazoned on it. A red falcon with dragon wings soared within a white crescent moon with a snow-peaked mountain below, all on a black field. Both were now standard equipment for all the brothers of the sky.
Edd had campaigned against the Mountain Clans ever since he had been a squire, but for the most part it had been a career filled with raids and patrols. This would be the biggest military operation he had ever been a part of up to his point. Edd would have nothing more than his instincts and his martial training to help him lead the knights and soldiers into battle. Well, those, and the dragon that rode with him. Edd felt more excitement than nerves. This would be his chance to prove himself, to add glory to his name. He even felt the stirrings of what could have been pride. Pride to serve under so awe-inspiring a figure as the Queen. Edd would have to watch that. It served him to play the part, but he would need to take care not to start believing in it.
The knight turned to Rhaenyra, the faceplate of his helm slid up and said, "My queen, all of our men are in positon. Our archers have the high ground, and our men on the ground lay in waiting. As soon as you finish your first pass, we'll be ready to move in. The terrain forces us to move in on foot, and they outnumber us somewhat. But it makes no matter. We have surprise, training, discipline, and firepower on our side." He smiled at that last bit.
"We can break their power here for generations to come, and finally take back these hills from those savages. The Brotherhood will see your will done, your grace, we fight in your name and for your glory. Fire and Blood." The knights gathered behind him all echoed the call.
"Do you have any last orders, my queen? Or shall I descend and await your attack?"
Eddison Arryn had been an obvious choice for the position, a connection to Jeyne and her house, without stripping the Vale in much of the way of titled nobility, but the Queen could taste his ambition. That was no crime in of itself, and in many ways could make him more useful in the conflicts to some, but the Queen too made a note to be wary. For now, however, she smiled and nodded with all the charm and imperiousness expected of a warrior queen.
"Prepare for my pass over them, I would caution striking 'too' immediately, while zeal and bravery are to be commended, and we should not allow them to recover, I would rather not have my own knights rushing into an inferno." It seemed obvious enough advice, but many had underestimated the heat and longevity of dragonfire in such situations. All those arrayed had her words from the Eyrie fresh in their minds, so she felt little inclination for another speech, she simply brought their meeting to a close with the words of her household. "Fire and Blood it shall be." Without another word, the Queen was moving to her harness atop Syrax. While she may not have been as lithe as in her youth, Rhaenyra moved atop Syrax with all the speed and grace one could expect from climbing atop a reptile the size of a large hill.
With the beat of Syrax' wings, the dragon took to the skies, ponderous in appearance, but with each movement of the dragon's powerful muscles, beast and rider powered over great distances. After only a few moments in the air, the surrounding landscape was blasted with a draconic roar, rolling forth Syrax. She was not a subtle creature, but by the time the clansmen were responding to the monster bearing down on them, it would be too late. Brave and savage as they were, arraying before the dragon would only bring about their deaths more swfitly.
The maw of the Queen's dragon opened once more, and death spilt outwards.
The wildlings of the mountain clans had been gathered in a ramshackle camp of animal hide tents and lean-tos. They had taken shelter in the bare brush, with some minimal tree cover on the craggy foothills. Ever since Rhaenyra's speech, scouts had been dispatched to watch the movements of the clans, and it seemed that the mountain men had gathered in force, such as it was, after the witnessing of dragons taking flight and portents of war. It was believed that the wildlings had been gathered to strike at the Vale to take advantage of the chaos, trusting in confusion and numbers to win them great gains in the raids.
It only made them easier to burn. The recent snowfall had draped the landscape in a shining white canvas, making the large camp strangely hushed and muted, especially in the early hours of the morning. Clouds had obscured the queen's flight. But the trees and the brush shook when Syrax roared, diving from the grey sky. Men had time to gape and shout. Children had time to point in surprise and awe. Women had time to scream and wail. Dogs had time to whine and sheep had time to bleat in terror. And then the fire fell on them.
Ser Edd, watching behind a nearby snowy hill, saw dragon fire for the first time in his life. It was both horrifyingly beautiful. The tents and shelters were damp, but took fire all took quickly, and the growth soon followed. Smoke rose into the air more rapidly than Edd could have believed, spreading ravenously as Rhaenyra strafed the entire camp with dragonfire. Edd saw the flames engulf warrior, child, and beast alike; cloth, fur, wood, iron, leather, and flesh all crumpling into burnt black ash like so much dry paper.
The screams and wails were an infernal chorus the likes of which Edd had never heard before, and the knight was mesmerized as he watched and listened to the wholesale slaughter. It was a sight out of the seventh hell, and Edd could not tear away his gaze even if he wanted to. Not all of the knights and soldiers were as stoic, and many averted their eyes or covered their eyes from the monstrous din. Some sobbed to behold the fury of the queen. A few vommitted.
Edd held up his arm, lighting a torch and waved it. Moments later, serjeants shouted orders, and a rain of arrows began flying from the peaks and cliffs where the Valemen archers had been lying in wait. They flew through the air, a piercing whistle breaking the air and underscoring Syrax's mighty roars in a macabre orchestra, before falling among the wildlings. Many who had escaped the fires died quickly, shafts piercing their hearts or throats. Others began crying out in fear and anguish. For those that had been burning, it was a mercy.
In less than five minutes, hundreds were already dead, with many more about to be embraced by the Stranger. The fires continued to spread, roaring as loudly as Syrax; the only source of light as smoke and clouds covered the sun. Arrows continued to fall as the archers loosed at will. Edd drew his sword and every man around him did the same. They tensed, both nervous and anxious to jump into the fiery fray and do battle with what remained of their foes. Edd watched as men and women tried to beat away the flames, drag the wounded to safety, and take cover from the death that fell from the sky. Some even began finding weapons, desperately trying to organize a defense, a few hapharzardly firing arrows at the sky that had no chance of even reaching Syrax.
The rapid melting of the snow had created a thick, milky mist that swiftly began to envelope the camp. Coupled with the fires and screams, it was complete confusion. They would never see them coming. Edd nodded and the knight next to him lifted his ornate banded warhorn and blew on it, a high, valiant note echoing through the hills. Entirely out of place with all the other sounds of horror. The arrows stopped falling.
Edd lifted his sword and yelled, "For the Queen! Fire and Blood!"
"FOR THE QUEEN! FIRE AND BLOOD!"
The Brotherhood of the Sky roared as one and they ran out from behind the snow covered hills and the woods, swords, axes, and torches up as they rushed at the terrified, confused clansmen. Edd lead the charge, his heart pounding as his boots carried him as fast as they could over the snowy ground. He saw more men sprinting down from the hills across from him, the Knights of the Vale flanking the clansmen on two sides as they charged towards the smoking, mist-shrouded camp, torches and blades held high.
Time seemed to stretch out to an eternity, every sense heightened to incredible keeness. Then they were upon them. Edd killed the first wildling warrior, a man who had turned to face the knights with only a wooden club and a defiant snarl on his face. Edd's sword lanced through his furs like a hot knife through butter and Edd watched the light go from the man's eyes. He kicked him off of his sword and waved the men on.
It wasn't a battle. It was a massacre. In the grey haze of smoke and mist, the Knights of the Sky moved and looked like phantoms to the clansmen. And were just as deadly.
The wildlings, still reeling from the attack, had barely any time to react. Most were cut down within moments. Women and greybeards ran screaming with children away as warriors desperately fought and died. Edd parried a swing from a clansman's axe and hit him in the face with his torch, the man's face bursting into a bloody heap as he fell, his hair catching fire and making him flail and scream. Edd lopped off the head of the warrior next to him, this a stripling barely more than a boy with a sharp stick. A woman charged at Edd with a long dagger. Edd sidestepped, hamstrung the woman, and sliced her across the back; ending her.
The Knight of the Sky strode over, in no great hurry, to the man he had downed and reversed his blade, stabbing in through his chest. A dog burst from the tents, barking with madness, and Edd stood his ground. The beast leaped, and Edd lanced his sword through it's chest. The beast died with a whimper and Edd slid its' corpse off of his blade. All around him, the Brotherhood cut through the ragtag warriors with disciplined lethality, moving as a cohesive, well-coordinated, and unstoppable force while the clansmen flailed in the smoke and mist. Every now and then, a wildling might have been able to down a man-at-arms, but for every man lost, the Knights of the Sky cut down five clansmen.
The wildlings broke, the surviving warriors turning and running with the old folks and children. The clever ones slipped out in the confusion towards the deeper woods, taking advantage of the concealing mist to flee rather than fight. The ones too terrified, only ran deeper into the camp, towards even more knights. Others tried to run for the hills, and as soon as they left the mist, arrows began raining down on them.
Edd shouted to the men, "Free the captives! Spare the children, the old, the sick, and all who surrender! Death to the rest!"
The men roared in affirmation and carefully began to wade deeper into the camp, taking care to not get separated and to stay with the light. They advanced like spectres with lamps of werelight, with their full-faced helms and bloody swords. The fires had begun to burn out; the cold and the mist damping them after the initial spread, though many tents were still aflame. The great wildling camp was now nothing more than a burnt shell. Soldiers with leashed hounds dived into the woods, seeking the wildlings who sought refuge and escape there. Those wildlings that managed to gain the hill despite the arrows saw themselves facing the swords of waiting knights and soldiers.. Those clansmen either surrendered or died quickly. The wails and moans of man and animal alike rang through the air. Both snow and ash began to fall to the ground, covering all in white, black, and grey. And all the while, Syrax roared.
Just for a moment, Edd stopped to take it all in. Afterward, he walked into the camp after his men and got back to his work.
Even in the mountain air high above the foothills, the smell of smoke, fire and blood washed over the Queen's senses. While the first pass had been the most destructive, Syrax continued to sweep over the battlefield, if it could be called that. While Rhaenyra's rage was infamous, she did not relish in the tang of death like some might suggest her husband did, even so, the primal force of war had its pull on her. Syrax, pulled by far greater instinctive forces, was driven to greater action than usual by the smell of the rush below. It took the greater part of the Queen's control to keep her from plunging into the fighting itself, instead passing back and forth to watch for any pockets of Clansmen resistance. Even if the Queen were armoured for riskier manouvers, she would have avoided doing so. No armour was impregnable, and she would not allow a stray arrow from a savage to do her half-brother's dirty work for him.
Eventually the clash of fighting died down, replaced only with the crackle of fire and the screams of the terrified or dying. When Syrax eventually touched back down upon solid ground, it was to an eruption of cheers from the Knights of the Vale. Honorable to a fault they may have been, but even the noblest of knights reveled in victorious slaughter. For those non-combatents among the tribes who had survived the intial attack, they would suffer far less than might be expected in war, with the force of the Vale comprised only of knights and archers, rather than the men-at-arms or mecenaries who could traditionally be attributed the worst features of a sack or battle. It was likely little salve against the tragedy of their loss, but it would suffice.
The Queen moved back down Syrax's flank in a single movement, sliding down her mount's scaled hide in the manner of a well practiced rider, knowing how to avoid the shredding friction of dragon scale. Already the Knights of the Vale gathered around her, noting from afar the dominating silhouette of a dragon among the smoke and fire. On the ground, the heady mixture of smoke and blood was far more powerful, washing over dragon and rider in waves. Syrax let out another, quieter, roar, as her nostriles flared at the smell. Rhaenyra on the other hand patiently waited for the Brotherhood of the Sky to gather around her, their winged visages appearing through the ash of victory. The heat, even indirectly, was intense, and all but the Queen, thankful for her Valyrian blood, felt its touch uncomfortably. Victory was a good salve to all such pains.
From the smoke and mist came Ser Eddison Arryn, his black cloak dusted with ashes and his silver armor caked in blood and gore. In his arms, Edd carried several bolts of cloth. The knights cheered, their swords and fists in the air as Edd and the other commanders knelt at Rhaenyra's feet. Over a thousand clansmen were in chains, most of them children, women, and old folks. And over a thousand eyes were watching Rhaenyra and Syrax with almost overwhelming terror. In the space of less than half an hour, they had seen the Queen burn their camp and break their warriors. As famed for resistance as the mountain men were, there was no fight in them now save for those few surviving hunters and raiders who grit their teeth or snarled at the Knights of the Vale while they were bound in chains.
Edd took off his helm, and laid the cloth before Rhaenyra on the ground. Around a dozen poorly spun banners in all, depicting the clan emblems of the Stone Crows, the Painted Dogs, the Redsmiths, the Milk Snakes, and all those others who had been gathered. Edd bowed his head as he knelt and looked up at Rhaenyra with a proud smile, "My queen, we are victorious. Over a thousand wildlings are in chains. There are perhaps a score of our knights with minor wounds, and a handful of soldiers who are fallen. But nearly a thousand of their warriors were put to the sword or burned in dragonfire. Their chiefs are either dead or your prisoners, save for one or two who fled. Their banners, such as they are, lie before you."
Ser Edd continued to report, "The rest of the wildlings were routed and managed to escape into the forests, including some warriors and champions of their peoples, but we have trackers rounding up as many stragglers and wounded as we can. We expect to have several hundred more in custody by midday. But I would advise against sending men after them in the dark. They know these woods just as well as we do, and cornered and terrified animals are like to fight even more ferociously."
The Knight's smile did not falter, "Still, it is a great victory. Even for those who did flee or were not here, they will not be any significant trouble to us. The great part of their strength is spent, and now we can begin erecting forts, holdfasts, and watchtowers in the foothills and begin to retake these lands for our people. The wildlings' power has been broken for generations to come. Perhaps they can continue some paltry raids and pithy attacks, but it is of no consequence, as now we can begin marching armies into these foothills and woods. Word of this will spread, and I expect the mountain men, to be cowed into hiding for the most part. Winter will take the weak and leave them even barer in numbers, and completely unable to oppose us in the spring."
"There is one last matter." Edd gestured behind him and a few knights advanced with a huge wildling with his arms bound in chains and his feet shuffling along. He had been burned across more than half of his body, the skin angrily red and blistering over much of his face and down his torso. An eye had been lost to the fire. And the parts that weren't burnt were marked by cuts and bruises. But still the wildling continued walking, obviously in pain but trodding along all the same. The knights threw him to his knees but the wildling kept his head up.
Edd nodded, "This man is a Painted Dog. One of their warriors. I came upon him in the camp, fighting like a man possessed, though he was aflame. He killed two soldiers and injured a knight before we managed to subdue him. We thought the burns would be the end of him, but he lingered, and the Maester managed to save him. There were others like him, not as impressive, but there were some wildlings who embraced the fires instead of fleeing from them. Many died, and none surrendered. But we have upwards of twoscore of them in chains, including this man. The only thing he said, was that he wished to see you, the Fire Queen, so he called you. He wished to speak with you."
Ser Edd traded gazes with Rhaenyra, "What should be done with him, your grace?"
The Queen regarded the wounded man with something akin to morbid curiosity, raising one eyebrow as Edd explained the situation. She could not fathom the reasoning for their behaviour, but to her credit, Rhaenyra did not let disgust or confusion at the man brought before her appear across her features.
"The man may speak his piece, his people are defeated." The Queen spoke with calm surity, taking a few steps towards the prisoner, the slope of the ground giving her a slight heigh advantage. Syrax turned her head to regard the figure as well, buffeting him with a blast of air from her nostrils, watchful for any threat to her bonded rider, even if there was still much in the way of space between them, it did not appear so to a beast as large as a dragon.
Syrax's breath parted what remained of his burnt hair, and the man's voice rasped out, "I am Voltur, son of Valtor. You are the Fire Queen. And you have shown me the future." Amazingly, Voltur bowed his head to Rhaenyra and said, "The fires burned. But they cured too. Cured me of fear. Of pain. Of weakness. The weak died, but I lived. The fire made me strong. Your fire made me strong."
Voltur raised his voice and shouted for all to hear, his voice echoing through the hills, "Men of the Mountain! I, Voltur, son of Valtor swear my life to the Fire Queen! My blood and strength belongs to her, her who made me strong! Her Red Hand! All men kissed by fire must follow! We will be the Burned Men! A new clan under the Fire Queen, who will give us strength through flame! Set us free and we will fight for you!"
Several of the captives, chained men with smoking wounds and burned bodies bent to their knees and bowed their heads to Rhaenyra, howling their agreement. Even hundreds of men, women, and children who were unburned began bowing their heads, getting on their knees in front of Queen Rhaenyra like they never had for anyone before. Many kept their heads high but many others followed the Burned Men in showing their submission to Rhaenyra. Edd, who was completely taken aback at this turn of events, managed to keep his surprise mostly off of his face beside a raising of his eyebrow and looked to Rhaenyra for orders.
The Queen was indeed surprised by the turn of events, but did not allow such to show on her features, her gaze was imperious as it set upon Voltur, before looking across the rest of the clansmen in turn, making note of those who knelt, and those who did not.
"Those who wish to serve me will be enabled to do so. Those who do not, I leave to the Vale to decide their fate, their crimes are against you, more than me." She spoke to her newly annointed knights before responding to the Clansmen. Loyalty when faced with the flames of dragonfire was easy, previous loyalty would be rewarded first. After a few moments, she turned her eyes to Voltur once more.
"The Burned Men, as you call yourselves, have commited crimes against my Kingdom, but you will find absolution in helping me to reclaim it from those who have stolen from the Fire Queen." She flowed into their nomer for her with ease, she paced towards the man slightly, although Syrax brought her mighty head closer at the potential imminent danger.
"You will fight for me, and I will make you stronger than the clans have ever been."
Voltur looked into his new Queen's eyes and in them, Rhaenyra could see the firm conviction of the fanatical convert plan on his face for all to see. Voltur bowed his head and said, "Your enemies are our enemies, great Queen. I shall have my own sons baptized in the flames of your dragon. This I swear, so that my loyalty can be shown. I will fight for you, I will kill for you, and I will die for you. Through fire I am remade."
Edd looked on, smirked to himself and turned to his lieutenants, "Take the reluctant ones into custody. Lady Jeyne will wish to pass judgement onto them. Gather up the rest, we have new comrades." This turn of events was unexpected but the Arryn knight was pleased. It was a great victory. Both for his Queen, and for himself.
The commander looked to Rhaenyra now and said, "I can leave command of the ranging parties to one of my captains. The other levies should be moving in now to secure our new territories. But the battle is won, my queen. Do you wish to pay call onto Lady Jeyne once more? Or shall we march to Gulltown? The ships stand ready to carry us to Dragonstone." He looked at the "Burned Men" and his knights standing nearby, "Both the Brotherhood and our new friends could all fit easily."
"Begin the march to Gulltown. I would fly to see her once more, but I will not risk such a large portion of our forces without the protection of a dragon rider, I would not put it past my half-brother to have used our younger sibling to lull us into a false sense of security." The Queen continued to speak to Edd as she approached Syrax once more, ignoring another slight pang of pain as she climbed back into her riding harness, it still had not been long since the rigours of her failed childbirth, but she would not allow that to be seen any longer.
"We shall see what the traitors think of the might of the Vale." She spoke, both to Knight and Clansman, before Syrax once again took wing.
Edd watched his queen take wing, the others covering themselves from the draft of dragon wings as he stood tall. He turned to Voltur, taking out his sword and striking open his chains, "Welcome to the Queen's army. I suspect you shall see your fair share of fire when we're done." And so the Burned Men and the Brotherhood of the Sky marched together, Clansmen and Knights of the Vale falling in line for the first time in their shared history. And all the while, Ser Eddison knew his queen would continue to make history. And he would be right there at her side when she did so.
