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Standing atop the towering walls of Riverrun, Lord Tytos Blackwood gazed out upon the Lannister army sprawling like a great beast beyond the castle. His brows remained tightly furrowed, betraying not the slightest hint of ease.
As the junction of the Red Fork and Tumblestone rivers, Riverrun formed a classic triangular fortress. Even before the Lannisters arrived to lay siege, a moat on the southwestern side had already been filled with water, serving as a natural defense.
Jaime Lannister, commanding twelve thousand men, had surrounded the remnants of the Riverlands' forces now sheltering behind Riverrun's walls. Yet for all his might, he could do nothing about the castle's formidable defenses.
Five times the Lannisters had attempted to storm the castle. Each time, they were forced to cross the raging moat by boat. But before those vessels could even reach the walls, they became prime targets for the defenders' arrows and stones. On the water, the boats moved far slower than soldiers on foot, and the swift current made maneuvering difficult. The attackers found themselves trapped in a perilous limbo, unable to advance and equally unable to retreat.
After five costly assaults, the Lannister army had suffered nearly a thousand casualties. Riverrun's losses, by contrast, barely exceeded a hundred. The exchange ratio had reached a staggering nine to one.
Jaime Lannister was no fool. Realizing the futility of throwing lives at an impregnable wall, he ceased his bloody offensives and chose instead to settle into a prolonged siege. He then attempted to compel Edmure Tully to order the castle gates opened.
But Lord Tytos Blackwood remained clear-headed. If he obeyed Edmure's pleas now, the Tully family would likely face complete ruin, and all the Riverlands lords who stood against the Lannisters would be implicated as well.
So under his watchful leadership and iron defense, the siege dragged on. The Lannisters remained encamped outside, while he and a few thousand battered soldiers held out within. The standoff had already lasted for over half a month.
As for provisions, Lord Blackwood was not overly concerned. Riverrun had ample grain stores, enough to last more than half a year. And within such a span, the outcome of the war would certainly become clear.
Now, all his hopes rested on the Northern army marching south. He knew the strength of the North's forces well. But trapped within the walls, cut off from the outside world, he had no way of knowing when they would arrive.
Jaime Lannister had sent archers to patrol the skies, intercepting any ravens sent from the castle. After losing over a dozen birds, Lord Blackwood finally abandoned his attempts to send word beyond the walls.
All he could do now was wait, hoping the Northern troops would descend like divine warriors from the sky. After suffering two consecutive defeats, they had lost all control of the battlefield.
…
After interrogating the pitiful captive who had begged for mercy, Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully ended the man's life with a swift slash across the throat. Even in death, blood continued to ooze from the deep gash on his leg.
"Bury him and clean it up." After giving the order in a low, muffled voice, Ser Brynden leaned back against the trunk of a tree with a grim expression, his eyes fixed in the direction of Riverrun as he sank into silent thought.
The Lannister prisoner had revealed troubling news. Ser Brynden now knew that his family's forces had suffered two defeats, that Edmure had been taken captive, and that their ancestral seat was under siege.
He had always believed that the Kingslayer would find Riverrun's walls insurmountable. Having grown up there, he knew all too well how formidable the castle was.
But now it seemed that Jaime had not given up. He had gone so far as to bind Edmure and use him as a tool of leverage in the siege, a cruel tactic that was slowly wearing down the morale of the Tully defenders stationed atop the walls.
According to the prisoner, there were now some within the castle who had begun to doubt how much longer they could hold out.
Although Ser Brynden still had faith in the defensive strength of Riverrun, he could not help but feel an increasing sense of worry.
No one could say how much longer his brother, Lord Hoster Tully, would endure. If he were to pass into the care of the Seven during the Lannister siege, and Riverrun were to fall from within due to discord, the consequences would be unthinkable.
He had no idea who was currently in command within the walls but no matter who it was, they lacked Hoster Tully's authority and respect. If the castle fell due to strife within, it would be an unacceptable tragedy.
No. He had to learn the Lannisters' camp layout around Riverrun as soon as possible, then hurry back to Clay Manderly. Time was running out.
With that thought, Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully rose to his feet and joined the others in burying the bodies and erasing any signs of the fight. Ten men worked quickly, and before long, the scene looked untouched. No one passing by would have suspected that three unlucky souls had died here just moments ago.
"Let's move. We head south," Brynden ordered, his voice low and firm. "Let's see what kind of mess the Lannisters are making of Riverrun."
With that, he mounted the warhorse they'd brought out of the woods. A squeeze of his heels and the stallion gave a sharp whinny before breaking into a gallop, charging southward beneath the canopy of trees.
Behind him, the other scouts followed without hesitation, their mounts thundering after him in a flurry of hooves and wind.
…
Farther to the north of them, over five thousand mounted soldiers under Clay's command remained stationed near Raventree Hall. This ancient stronghold, draped in moss and cloaked in age-old silence, was currently under the rule of Lord Tytos Blackwood, the appointed defender of Riverrun.
What made this place especially intriguing was its spiritual character. Despite being situated deep in the south, Raventree Hall remained loyal to the faith of the Old Gods. The majority of the population, along with the Blackwood family who ruled over them, were devout followers of the weirwoods, their hearts tied to the ancient gods of the forest.
Clay, though personally open-minded in matters of faith, could clearly sense the respect and goodwill the people of Raventree Hall held for the Northern host. When they saw the banners of the North flying, they opened the gates of the castle without hesitation.
Although most of their fighting men had already followed their lord, Tytos Blackwood, to the front lines at Riverrun, the acting castellan of the Blackwood family still managed to gather a modest force of two hundred men, offering to send them to bolster Clay's cavalry.
Clay understood the urgency in their hearts. After all, their lord was besieged by the Lannisters at Riverrun. How could they not be anxious?
Yet, as the commander of a cavalry force, Clay had no choice but to refuse their offer. He requested instead that they remain in Raventree Hall and guard it closely. This location lay directly along the path Clay would have to take should he need to retreat northward. If the war went poorly, whether for the sake of replenishing troops and supplies or making a strategic withdrawal, the security of Raventree Hall would prove vital.
As for how to lift the siege of Riverrun, Clay had devised two plans.
The first was based on the assumption that Riverrun could hold out. In that case, Clay preferred a drawn-out strategy. He would stall for time until the Ironborn launched their invasion of Lannisport. Once the threat of an Ironborn landing was imminent, Tywin Lannister would have no choice but to recall his golden son and his army to defend the western shores.
The fastest route from Riverrun back to the Westerlands was along the River Road, which passed through the castle of Golden Tooth and continued into the hills of the Westerlands, leading straight through the very heart of their territory, their golden heart.
If this strategy were to be followed, Clay intended to send out riders to repeatedly harass the Lannister supply lines, aiming to cut off their access to food and provisions. Along the path the Lannisters would be forced to take during their retreat, Clay planned to set a trap, an ambush prepared in advance to destroy them in one swift strike.
This was a relatively safe and measured approach. Clay commanded five thousand cavalry, granting him overwhelming mobility compared to Jaime Lannister's mixed force.
By spreading his riders across the region, he could sever Jaime's supply line. Even with twelve thousand men, the Kingslayer could not possibly defend such a long and vulnerable chain of supplies while continuing to press the siege on Riverrun.
The wolves did not lunge to tear out their prey's throat in one wild rush. Instead, they circled and bled their quarry slowly, weakening it before delivering the fatal bite. That was Clay's plan. Before he launched a full-scale attack, he would first draw enough blood from this golden-maned lion to ensure victory.
This was the most secure method, for in this approach, Jaime Lannister would be forced to remain on the defensive.
And once again, Clay's cavalry had the upper hand in flexibility. The Riverlands, though contested, were half a home field for them. Jaime would have to protect not only his own army, but also keep a wary eye on the thousands of desperate men trapped within Riverrun's walls.
With his forces spread across three fronts, even the slightest withdrawal in any one direction could prompt a breakout. The defenders of Riverrun might then focus their full strength on that weakened flank and strike with superior numbers. And once just one segment of the Lannister line was broken, the entire campaign would begin to unravel.
The second plan was for the worst-case scenario—if Riverrun could not hold out long enough for news of the Ironborn invasion to reach them. In that case, Clay would have to rely on a tactic once used by Robb Stark.
In essence, the strategy involved using a small force to lure out the enemy's cavalry, drawing them away from their main camp and into a trap, where they could be destroyed in one decisive blow.
The first phase of this war would thus be to eliminate the enemy's mobility. Once the cavalry were gone, the remaining infantry would be little more than helpless prey awaiting slaughter.
The second phase would come quickly thereafter. Without giving the enemy time to react or regroup, Clay's cavalry would strike at the three Lannister camps surrounding Riverrun with all possible speed. These camps were made up entirely of infantry, and they would not be able to withstand a full-force cavalry charge.
Originally, Robb Stark had ended his offensive at this stage. Lacking the manpower to press further, he had allowed several thousand Lannister troops from the camps to escape back to the Westerlands.
Later, it was from those survivors that the Lannister army was rebuilt. They were seasoned veterans, men who had already faced battle, and their hard-won experience made them a formidable foundation for future campaigns.
But Clay had no intention of allowing such a mistake to happen again. He had prepared a third phase.
He had made a promise to himself that he would strike Lord Tywin Lannister with such force that the pain would be felt deep within his heart. He wanted the name "Clay Manderly" to be remembered across all the Seven Kingdoms after this battle.
And so, Clay was determined not to let even a single one of those twelve thousand Lannister soldiers escape.
The third phase was straightforward: relentless pursuit. Before the defeated army could flee to the safety of Golden Tooth, Clay would overtake them and cut them down, ensuring that none would ever leave the Riverlands alive.
…
Meanwhile, further south, Ser Brynden's small reconnaissance unit had advanced with great caution and finally reached a position within five miles of the northern bank of the Tumblestone River. At this distance, they could already make out the distant twinkling lights of Riverrun from slightly elevated terrain.
This was already an extremely perilous area. The northern encampment of the Lannister army laying siege to Riverrun was alarmingly close. The shouts and calls of soldiers moving about in the dark could be faintly heard in the air, carried by the breeze.
This part of the battlefield was also the broadest stretch of land surrounding Riverrun, which was why the Lannister forces here were most concentrated. Ser Brynden, who was no stranger to the composition and formation of armies, allowed his sharp gaze to sweep over the massive encampment before making an informed estimation.
"There are at least five thousand men stationed here," he said.
The scout beside him gave a nod of agreement. Though they had all known that the Lannisters had brought a large force, seeing it with their own eyes still weighed heavily on their hearts.
"We are all wearing Lannister armor now," Ser Brynden said. "We'll find a way to cross the river and investigate further. This camp lies out on the open plain and has no natural defenses, but the same might not be true for the others."
Indeed, the key to this daring infiltration of a heavily occupied zone lay in the lion's skin they now wore—Lannister armor not brought with them, but taken from the dead.
At least twenty unfortunate Lannister men had crossed their path along the way. Every one of them had been slain, their bodies concealed, and their arms and armor stripped clean to serve as perfect disguises for the scouts.
In an army this large, with thousands of soldiers coming and going, no one knew everyone else. A suit of armor bearing the lion's sigil became the best camouflage.
Upon arriving at the river crossing, the group handed over their horses to the ferry operator stationed there. Thanks to the armor they wore, they passed through without difficulty and made their way to the southern side of the Tumblestone.
From their vantage point to the left and slightly ahead, they could clearly see Riverrun standing between the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork. Ser Brynden Tully let out a small breath of relief. The walls were intact, the banners still flew high and straight. That alone was proof that the defenders still held strong.
He wondered what was happening inside the castle, where his brother, whom he had not seen for so many years, now resided. Could he hold out until they met again?
Perhaps the Seven were watching over him. During their venture through the three Lannister camps, Ser Brynden's group had only been questioned twice, and both times, the old knight's decades of experience in spinning tales had gotten them through unscathed.
By the time they returned to the northern bank of the Tumblestone, the sun was already low in the sky, its golden light bathing the land as dusk approached.
The ten scouts gathered and began exchanging the information they had gathered from within the Lannister encampments.
"Their supply lines must be fully secure. Judging by the abundance of food I saw, they haven't faced any threats to their logistics," one man remarked. His focus had clearly been on the state of provisions. After the Lannisters crushed the Riverlands resistance, the stretch of road between the Golden Tooth and the front lines had become uncontested territory. No other forces remained in the area.
No, that was not entirely true. Ser Brynden recalled the four guards who had recently left his unit. If his guess was right, those four had set out precisely to target the Lannisters' supply routes.
"They looked quite relaxed. I overheard many saying that House Tully had crawled back into their turtle shell and didn't dare show themselves," another scout reported.
"Yes, I heard the same," someone added. "That tells us they aren't prepared for a sudden assault."
The others nodded in agreement. It was clear that this notion was widespread in the Lannister camps.
"I made some rough estimates," Ser Brynden said then. "The camp on the northern bank is the largest, with over five thousand men. The one in the southwest is the smallest, just over three thousand, and the remaining four thousand are stationed in the southeastern camp."
He had been closely observing not only the number of troops in each camp but also their organization and defenses. Additionally, he had attempted to calculate the number of cavalry within the Lannister host.
At most, there were two thousand mounted men — certainly not more than three thousand. One only had to look at the number of horses in the camps to know that.
So despite the supposed strength of the twelve-thousand-strong Lannister army, in truth, it was weaker than it appeared. Their largest encampment was exposed on the open plain of the northern bank, separated from the other two by the wide, fast-flowing river.
This meant that if the northern camp were to come under attack, the only means of reinforcement would be a few dozen rickety boats at the ferry. If Clay's cavalry moved swiftly enough, they could break through the camp before help from across the river could arrive.
And once even a single Lannister camp was overrun, the siege of Riverrun would be effectively broken. The enemy would no longer have the numbers to maintain the encirclement.
Several ideas flashed through Ser Brynden's mind at once, a flurry of tactical possibilities. But in the end, all those plans shared a single goal — to drive the Lannister forces away from Riverrun and the Riverlands.
What he did not know, however, was that his commander, Clay Manderly, had never intended merely to drive them off. From the very beginning, Clay had set his sights on the complete annihilation of the twelve thousand Lannister troops.
"Very well," Ser Brynden finally declared. "Everyone, memorize what you have seen and heard. We head north now, to deliver this vital intelligence to our commander. Let's move out, lads!"
With hooves pounding the earth, the scouts turned and rode swiftly north, carrying with them the first-hand knowledge of the enemy's position — the secrets that might soon decide the fate of a kingdom.
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[Chapter End's]
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