Mirren and Garlan
Mirren had ridden hard and long towards the Reach in order to arrive in a timely manner. Certain nobles of certain houses might have seen little merit in going out of their way to arrive on time, but in her experience they certainly expected such in kind. She didn't know whether the Tyrell man would fall into the former or latter categories, but she was not eager to find out the hard way. It would be a poor first impression to arrive a week after the Reachmen had begun their foray into the Dornish mountains, and an even poorer first impression if they had done so with little care for the ways of fighting of the mountain bandits and other inhabitants. Nobles were ill dispositioned to take kindly to her presence when an absence of it had cost them hundreds of lives in ambushes from hidden mountain passes.
To that end, she had borrowed a horse from one of the Reachmen in King's Landing, promising him that she was in fact riding to meet with Ser Garlan, and not a smooth talking horsethief, and paying him a decent sum for the horse's use on the route. Judging by his demeanor, he could afford several more horses of considerably higher breeding if he so chose, but she had seen little point in bringing the matter up. Though, as she winced at the beginnings of saddle sores against her buttocks, he certainly could have provided a saddle that wasn't nearly hardened to rock.
Thankfully, the journey itself had been somewhat uneventful. Aside from one encounter with a band of men who professed themselves to be men of the Reach protecting the roads, but when they had demanded payment, things had gotten ugly. One man had charged at her waving a worn out axe, which she had deftly sidestepped, delivering a swift blow to his side that, while not fatal if he sought treatment, would teach the man a lesson. The others had taken flight at that point, and aside from a straw arrow sent at their backs to encourage them to run faster, she had continued on her way without further incident.
Blackhaven was not far into the Dornish Marches, the settlement of tents and an encampment already forming, this being the basis of an army. The Tyrells were here in number, with Houses Goldengrove, Peake and Tarly contributing large numbers of men, roughly equal to the number if not more than the Stormlanders had contributed, and it was a small fraction of what House Tyrell could spare from the armies of the Reach. Green and a few yellow coloured tents were scattered, within which was the tent of Garlan Tyrell.
But now she was arriving at the camp of the Tyrell army, and she swiftly dismounted, quickly presenting the seal Willas had given her and continuing on. Slowly and somewhat hesitantly, she approached the tent, leaving her other belongings upon the horse she had borrwed. "My lord?" She called, not entering the tent without permission, "I am here on Ser Willas' instructions. I seem to recall something about having use for someone from Dorne in this campaign?"
The guards let in Mirren, recognizing the Dornish woman from Raven-sent instruction, that Garlan was expecting a retinue to come. Garlan Tyrell was not what he once was, but he was still a known commander, and even though his hair was beginning to go, and his age was showing, he was still a proud soldier of the Reach. The plate he wore was simple, a traditional breastplate and legs, that was dusty and scratched, with a green ornament that signified who this was in particular. The Commander of the Order of the Green Hand, the sigil resting on his chest, a wonderful looking brass and golden design of a hand.
"Mirren Sand. A mercenary sword. I've heard things." Garlan chuckled, walking up to her, offering out his hand.
"We could certainly use any help, particularly on Dorne. Flowers don't tend to do well here. We have guides, and locals willing to help. But I could use some help that goes beyond that, to understand the conditions, a fixer, shall we say. I trust in Willas's word that you'll serve well."
"That is my hope as well, my lord." Mirren inclined her head, looking around. "I must admit, I have not been in Westeros for some years - some young noble from the Westerlands had it in his mind that Essos would be an excellent place for business when all you have to your name is the name itself, and little more than that. My father was in no need to abdicate his own position, so I joined up with the man. Dare I say, I learned quite a bit more than bodyguard duty - mostly how not to behave around Lyseni pimps." She closed her eyes, doing her best not to think too much about the Lyseni brothels she had been forced to enter.
"Regardless, I did grow up in Dorne, and while I may not be able to tell you of every single invisible mountain pass hidden by stones and sand, I can tell you of quite a few you probably don't have marked on a map." After a pause, she added, "And probably help to fend off anyone who gets any ideas about how much longer you should live. Might I suggest keeping the helmet on if possible when we're in the thick of things - it's rather hard to shield someone from an arrow when the archer is hidden behind a single rock outcropping among millions."
"Understood. I would imagine there is much different to back home. Best to never underestimate a foreign field, such as these mountains." Garlan replied, listening to her story, as he sighed, leaning against the tent's pole.
"I have nothing bold in terms of ideas, a few have been mooted. The taking of the Spire, the conequest of Vulture's Roost, before we locate and find Hellgate Hall. All in one co-ordinated attack. It is a bold move. Would certainly take them off guard. But it still feels like they dragged us to here for a reason." Garlan mused, looking to Mirren.
"I understand you probably haven't seen the situation here in a while. If you know the passes, that helps us a great deal. Yet the point being though, I think our form of warfare is a little...jagged in these hills. I may have a thought on a better response, to adapt our forces in these hills. I trust my brother's word to think you'd be capable for this, if you're willing to hear it." Garlan added, walking across the tent, gently taking his hilt from the table, and putting it by his own side.
"I certainly am." Mirren took up a slow walk behind him, eyeing the tent and then looking back to him. "What did you have in mind? I can certainly say prior suggestions would be of... dubious efficacy at the very best. Any amateur student of history could easily say what happened last time a massive army from Westeros attempted to subjugate Dorne with a large host. And if memory serves, there was no enemy to fight." She shrugged, gesturing at the map, "Seizing every castle and redoubt in the Marches will do little to actually counter the problem. Dorne has castles, sure. But we're perfectly happy abandoning them if need be - a foe who thinks he's safe in numbers is one who's susceptible to small raids and lightning charges into the weakest points of his supply column. You lead your forces in bulk into the mountains, and I can almost guarantee you that they'll fade away to thirst and attrition. Let me caution you as strongly as I can, not to fight in Dorne as you do in the Reach. It won't work, and it's not worked before. Sans the Dance of Dragons, little else has brought down a dragon but attacking Dorne in force." She stepped to the side, "With that said, what did you have in mind, Ser?"
"Lyonel Tyrell did not fare well either. Had scorpions dropped on his head, I recall." Garlan commented, nodding.
"I understand that this is not a normal war. A war where we must creep slowly, and be careful. Though orthodox as I am, I know that cannot happen. If they will attack us will small bands, then we can respond in kind." The Tyrell added, as he walked to the table, gently looking at the map inside his own quarters.
"Blackhaven is beyond their reach. And our scouts tell us they are sporadic, just as we expected. Weak in number, but armed with archers, and swordsmen. Rather than marching our whole contingent of men in, I intend to send a smaller reconaissance force, made up of a small number of men. To find out just what is atop the Spire, and watch anything that comes in, and out." Garlan commtented, turnign to Mirren.
"You may be a mercenary. And I have many fine commanders, Lord Tarly among them. But I have a feeling you may be able to do what we won't...you'll certainly fit better in the environment and be far more nimble. A small assembly of men can be given to you, a few ravens, and the chance to give us the information we need before we attack, and waste our men." Garlan laid the plan out, but knew it simply wasn't that.
"Worst comes to worst, nothing comes of it. But if so, you can find, harass and eliminate them, make them aware that we are hunting them. Dragons and armies won't win this war alone. Gendry is bold, but knows the hammer. If I've learnt anything from the past wars and from my brother, it is that war is won by information."
"I know you were sent to me as a guard. And you may stay as that, if you wish. But if you wish to take this, you'll help us to win this conflict. Defeat the Vulture King."
"I seem to remember something about him having those scorpions dropped on him when he called for a whore, or something to that effect." Mirren added with a sly grin. "Regardless, your plan is sound - to a point." She walked around, facing the man across from the map, "I will take command of a small force for you, but simply leading them into the mountains is dangerous. Once again, I may be of Dorne, but I am from the coast. I can tell you of hundreds of small passages through these mountains you or any other knights of the Reach would never sea, but the people who live here could list thousands more still. Marching straight in with a small or large force is tantamount to protracted suicide - I would urge you to hire local guides whose loyalties are not in question - a feat in and of itself."
She paused for a moment, gesturing and pointing at various spots in the map, "We cannot fight them on their own terms. Neither I nor yourself will ever know the mountains like they do, and to that end I would suggest a slower plan, and costlier in the short term." She looked back up at him, "I will be honest, my lord. Neither you, nor myself, can adequately command a force to simply eradicate the bandits. We cannot think of this as a traditional engagement, you know as well as I do. Every mountain crevasse, every nook and cranny, could be a hiding spot for a small party of the enemy. I would advise a twofold strategy - hire those guides I mentioned, I can oversee them for you if you wish. And use your superior numbers to block the main routes through the mountains and advance
slowly. Do not think in terms of territory gained or lost - this is not a rigid front like wars anywhere else in Westeros. The bandits can slip by on foot easily enough, but even they will face a difficult task in bypassing columns of Reachmen with food and supplies once their farms are burned." Her face darkened, "And yes, you will likely need to burn their farms."
"Gendry will not be pleased. Neither will I. Doing that is going to piss him off, but I know why. The mountains are like a large castle...we cannot simply enter them, there's fortifications and hideyholes everywhere. Then there's the actual castles themselves...." Garlan exhaled, sighing as he looked at his map.
"But you are right. I know the costs. The implication of war. The greater good rather than the lesser evil that amounts to a greater horror." The Tyrell commander was wise to make the comment, recognizing his own boundaries, and the fact that this was why she was here.
"The Tyrell vanguard is blocking the pass at Nightsong, and the western front. If the Prince of Dorne doesn't let any out at Wyl and Skyreach, and the Stormlanders neither towards Blackhaven, then we'd have that encirclement. Any small bands with encampments that are exposed will be easy to sweep, and it'll be our first step. Higher in the mountains, I would take your strategy. So in which case, I'd like you to do something additional then. Given your attributes, I think while you may not know yet, you sound like you might be able to find out." Garlan added, looking at the map.
"I'd like you to find us more guides, and more men. Dornish Spears, actually, and archers. We can arrange the funds to hire about 1,500 in addition, mercenaries, guides, scouts, men who understand the lay of the land, and each passage. Oversee our reconaissance, and our view in. There are dragons that can burn out any cave you mark, so long as we find no Ballistae or Scorpions."
"But you must understand, Gendry isn't going to be patient. He's got a lot of wroth, a lot fucking more than me. King's orders are to put this down, before any word keeps spreading. There's more than just the fact that even a small number of men are in these caves, it's the fact that the Vulture King has access to some very strange pheonomena that we can't account for. That would put a spanner in the works. So that adds another variable we can't account for. Not easily...there are some men from Oldtown who say they've studied it, that I would want you to have with you. That is another factor we need to be mindful of." Garlan replied, as he sighed, looking across the table, opening a leather-covered canteen.
"Anyway. Wine? You've travelled a long way."
"Tell Gendry," Mirren began, nodding towards the man and looking around for a chair, "That if he's so eager to rush in and defeat them, that I'd like him to tie a purple cloth around his right shoulder so I can identify his corpse once we get to it." She sighed, "The King was a member of the Night's Watch, and he expects this to be a quick campaign?" Letting herself fall into a nearby chair, she groaned audibly, "Fuck me, and here I thought dealing with upstart minor nobles was hard enough. I'll take that wine if you're still offering."
She stood after a moment, walking towards him, "I can command these men if you wish, but I must inform you again - there will be no quick victory here. It will be long, it will be painful, and unless the Vulture King loses all sense and decides to march into an open field and face your army in a straight engagement, it will involve burning down farms and villages. Are you sure you're willing to do all that? In addition, there are likely men more capable of actual command than myself, my lord. I was a bodyguard, not a general. A small unit I can lead and have done so many times, but a force of this size..." She frowned, uncertain, "I do not wish to be the bearer of bad news, but I have no experience with this level of command, and a foray against mountain guerillas in their home territory who may have powers we don't fully understand may not be the best learning experience. I can lead a spearhead squad for you, or direct your own personal guards, but commanding hundreds of men..." She trailed off.
"Then do just that. The tip of the spear you have to hand then, Mirren Sand." Garlan wittily replied, as he put the cork back on the canteen of wine, nodding.
"Anyway, telling Gendry Baratheon that is like telling a raging bull to calm down. He'll gore you into bits. And Gendry can do more than that. I've seen him do worse. King Jon is willing to do the right thing when the time inclines...but he isn't always the most experienced. He's learned a lot, but he has his bravery, and no cunning. He sees this as a distant affair." The Tyrell chuckled, as he took a seat himself, bringing it against the table.
"You take your number. A small one, and recruit who you need. I have men who can command. But they're not....well, let me be frank. They won't understand what I'm telling you now. They'll want all the men they can muster, and they could do it, easily. If you think that upstart little nobles are difficult, wait till you see an army of noble Knights who all want glory when we go to war. It's hell...and I know that some of those from Goldengrove and Peake don't even know that yet." Garlan looked at the map again, looking over the pieces, and the routes in.
"Tell Gendry, if he wants to know what happens when you charge into these mountains I'd be happy to share some horror stories with him. Or perhaps, send him into the foothills and I'll take some blunt arrows and show him just what would happen myself. Maybe the bruises will make him think twice." She rested her face against her palm, "Though if prior experience with Knights is any indication, he'll probably just get angrier and challenge me to a duel." She looked up at Garlan, "Something tells me he'd be even worse about that, though, wouldn't he?"
Looking over the map again, she groaned, burying her eyes in her hands, "By the old gods, the new, and every one in between, this is going to be a right nightmare. What was the King thinking sending a bunch of knights of the Reach against bandits in the Dornish mountains?"
"Knights of Dorne, and the Stormlands too. We're here to do a job, and I suppose as the King asks, we serve. Same as you. Your input is valuable, and know it hasn't gone unused." Garlan added, shaking his head.
"Keep it to yourself....I'll do what I can...this will work, but only if we act carefully, and skillfully. We do not repeat the mistakes of the past. Whatever anyone may think." He looked back at Mirren again, at her purple eyes, the Lyseni origin clear to see. Mirren was powerful yet slender from his view, she seemed like a guard alright, even if she didn't have the age, she sure had the cyncism.
"I can tell we'll get on well. We're both cynical enough to know this won't work out the way some people want it to." Garlan only took the the rest of the wine, as he led the way towards the exit of the tent.
"Grab some sleep. There's a few spare beds going in the tent over there, for now it'll do. Don't worry, the men aren't all perverts. I have a funny feeling they'd be too scared to kill you either way, but don't fucking take their genitals. You serve me, as they serve their liege commander. We ride at dawn." Garlan said, the stoic commander bold in his words, proud yet not cocky, he sounded weathered and commanding.
He watched on as Mirren left, already having a good taste of what someone who actually knew what the fuck they were doing here was like. Garlan was cynical, after all, and even though he didn't freely admit it, he had been hit more by the wars past than he'd tell Willas or anyone. And once it was done, he had to adjust back to normal duties. Training men was good, and so was helping Merlin in running the Kingdom in Lord Willas's absence, but even so, there was much to be said that he didn't know exactly what else to do, after all. Mirren seemed cynical in that sight to Garlan- yet somehow, he could tell he'd get on well with her, beyond some initial reluctance.
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