The battering ram would end up tearing down the damn gate. Eventually, it would. That much he knew. But he was never the most patient of men. More than that, everything had clicked in his mind the moment he'd heard Constantine's shout.
They had planned for a secret force to dig under the walls, probably on the opposite side of the battle. The aim was obvious in and of its own, though he did wonder just how many men they'd sent there, as this force needed some numbers for the surprise attack to even amount to anything.
However, this wasn't important at the moment. They wouldn't have sent just anyone there, and he could easily imagine that this battle ending as swiftly as planned, partly hinged on this specific tactic working. All in all…
The Rebels could not be allowed to ruin by either collapsing the tunnels or countering with their own. They had to create momentum and overwhelm them before they could start effectively picking their strategy apart.
That was why he decided, despite his own heart beating with reckless abandon in his chest, that he had to scale the wall as well. He followed after Constantine and Commander Oswyn like a man possessed.
He held back his gasp when a corpse fell down the ladder. He heard a sickening crunch on the soft soil below but he climbed anyway. Above, he saw Commander Oswyn pushing a great number of Rebels away with a roar to be able to set foot upon the walls.
The numbers of the Loyalist army were too great, and such could also be said for the number of ladders. They were spreading themselves thin to prevent the assault, but for as many ladders they successfully pushed off, enraged Loyalist levies would appear to meet them headfirst.
Once he arrived atop the walls, he could finally peer inside and saw a court filled with stone-faced knights. Some of them were running towards the stone stairs to reach the walls and reinforce the archers but a square of them remained, perfectly in position and ready to meet any who dared to step past the gates.
He also noticed a clear division in the archers and pikemen desperately trying to gut the Lieutenant and Commander. Those who fought with far more discipline than the sheer despair of cornered prey were quite obviously members of the Copper Brotherhood.
On the left wall, they were also the ones who continued to shoot arrows after arrows upon the forces waiting for the ram to breach in. The garrison was frantically trying to push away the ladder or pour what appeared to be boiling water on the heads of the climbing Loyalists.
He winced when he heard the shrieks of abject pain coming from those who were met with said water. Thank the gods this wall had been scaled quickly enough that he had not been subjected to this.
But he had observed his surroundings for a split second too long…
" Argh!" Came his own cry as a pike caught his shoulder. It did not pierce through but it snapped him back to reality.
" You fuckwit!" He swore as he seized the pike's handle with his shield hand. He tugged on it and dragged a boy his age with it, tears forming quickly as he realized what was coming his way.
Gideon's skull came crashing down on the pikeman's, the rage of a charging bull following it. A shame this specific pikeman had been sent to battle his own brethren without even a helm of any kind. But the snow-haired warrior would not shed any tears over it.
He felt the soldier that had climbed right after him trying to push past him and enter the fray. In the blink of an eye, an idea came up to him. He gazed at the assembled mass of archers and smirked.
'This is either sheer genius, or the Prowess made me far too arrogant and I'll be remembered as the single most idiotic sellsword of this era.'
He barely tried to gauge the drop behind the wall, before he put everything he had in his legs and…flung himself in the archers, who had expected anything but that.
In a moment frozen in time, as he barrelled towards the ground with the numerous Rebels he had taken with him, he saw Oswyn's eyes widen and heard Constantine's delighted laugh in passing.
He had jumped in the mass of archers and taken a whole chunk of them with him. The rest upon the wall were stunned for longer than they had any right to be. And his fellows capitalized on it.
He landed atop the stable's roof, as did a few Rebels whilst others simply collided with the outer court's bloodied mud.
"Ahahaha, you won't escape your image as a freak with such folly, Gideon!"
That was a voice he had not wanted to hear. So Lord Lyonel had followed them, huh?
He barely registered the words anyway, as he'd hit his head on the roof. Three small trails of blood ran down his head, but he hardly felt it.
He stood on slightly shaky legs and grasped his blade. The Rebels did so as well, though they had taken far more damage from the fall. As expected.
He could already envision a future of risky moves like this with his Prowess. He couldn't tell if this sudden arrogance replacing his usual fear was truly a boon, however. There was no real need to put himself in such danger.
Yet…one could not deny the flames that burned the brightest were the easiest to notice at sea. If he wanted to shine, if he wanted to climb up the ranks as he had the ladder, he needed to become a bit unreasonable.
He was no strategist yet, but he could stand taller than others through sheer balls alone.
He offered a toothy smile to those before him. They shook and exchanged panicked looks.
He took a step forward, they recoiled in answer.
Below, those who hadn't just fainted or died from the impact were already on their feet. Two arrows whistled past him, but he was already moving.
The only one upon the roof who seemed to have kept a sliver of bravado charged at him. The rest followed on instinct. Best to attack the beast all at once.
He ducked under the wild swing of an axe and tried to bury his sword in the valorous one's cranium, but another threw his shoulder forward. The force pushed Gideon just enough so that the blow from the third Rebel missed him entirely.
He crashed his knee in the stomach of the one who'd got the hit, and he cringed when the fool straight up just vomited on his boots.
He rattled his brain with a shield shot to the head. It threw the poor sod off the roof. The other two hacked at him at the same time. But they were too close to one another.
He sidestepped the blades and ran his alongside the second one's chest. Their shoddy leather armours could barely handle the steel's bite.
Whilst that one stupidly clutched the wound, Gideon jumped over him to reach the valorous one. The man prepared for a sword slash but received a kick to the throat that nearly sent him off the roof as well.
He took the time to reposition himself, but Gideon finished off his friend by sliding his sword into the man's neck with one clean thrust.
Then he jumped again. He took ahold of the last one's torso and threw the both of them off the roof. He forced himself to ignore the worrying sound he heard when they landed and convinced himself it came from his now unconscious adversary.
He raised himself up and was met with nearly a dozen Rebels. The square formation of Knights in the court was staring at him but made no indication of moving.
He took a certain sick pleasure in seeing how the utterly mad drop from the wall followed by the quick dismissal of their comrades on the stable's roof, had cracked the confidence of the remaining archers and pikemen.
Confident or not, they had no real choice but to fight. They made sure to let him know of that when they dragged their feet along the mud and assumed their position.
That was perhaps a bit too much at once for him….but why the hell not? They blocked the way to the stairs anyway, so he couldn't get back up.
At most, he could hope that he could survive long enough for the other Loyalists to come down. Though their goals were both to take control of the walls and run after the Rebels who'd been sent after the digging force. He did doubt they would come down for him.
Something collided with the stable's roof once more. He barely reacted, his eyes trained on the Rebel scum. His shield hand's fingers twitched in anticipation.
The first rays of sunlight had pierced through the dispersing clouds and were illuminating his figure on the castle grounds, shining bright light on his bloodied white hair.
But that was not the reason as to why the assembled Rebels narrowed their eyes in some measure of controlled fright.
He looked over his shoulder and saw another one of the Boars. This one he had not met yet. He certainly would've remembered the man.
His armour was simple enough, though it certainly struck him immediately. It was an Essosi armour. Silk cloth with crude plates over it. The headpiece, supposed to cover the head and prevent heat stroke, simply hung around the man's neck. He wielded two curved swords strangely enough. Not a great believer in the philosophy of survival it seemed. Or perhaps simply a suicidal man. Gideon would not judge.
He cut nearly as imposing a sight as himself, standing over the roof with his tanned skin glinting under the sun with no hint of sweat. Either he'd barely fought yet or he possessed a great deal of endurance.
His wild mane of blonde hair flowed without much sense to it. That could not be very practical for a soldier, but Gideon could hardly judge him for it. He did find himself slightly jealous of his piercing azure eyes, but the thought only lasted until the man opened his mouth, a mocking smile plastered on his face.
With a nasal voice and a slight accent, he drawled out, " I know the boy looks like he stepped out of a dusty book on the Dance of Dragons, but you all need to learn some manners, you dogs."
He took a mere step forward and dropped down the roof. His knees hardly even buckled from the fall.
" You fiends chose just the right side. Nero Draarys shall send you to meet your Gods. Pray for your comrades as you ascend."
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A.N: Hey y'all, just wanted to say comments and reviews will be appreciated as like many authors, I function with interaction be it positive or negative. And it also helps me know what I'm doing right and what I'm completely