RM: Chapter 115

I frowned, looking up at the Castle of Maidenpool as my ribs were bound up once again. Fresh bandages were applied by one of the Braavosi Physicians I had hired for my officers and I. I felt better about those than I did the Maesters. The Maesters had their own political agendas, after all. That was how the Dragons had died. Ser Denys Irons frowned as he watched the physician do so. He was clad in Runic Arsenal Steel Armor, Norvishi Sallet Helm, which I knew as a Gothic-style Sallet Helm, tucked under one arm as he went over the plan to assault the Castle. Maidenpool's castle was built out of the same pink stone as the outer walls were. Built to a similar thickness, which would resist bombardment for a day or two, even from our guns. Even the gates were made of weirwood, which was stronger than most other woods, owing to its magical nature. However, it seemed not to concern Ser Denys, as he outlined his plan of attack.

"We will be destroying the gates, My Lord. That will have to be the way to assault." Intoned Ser Denys Irons.

"Weirwood will be difficult to destroy. It is similar to Goldenheart Wood in that respect. Are you certain the sappers you have chosen are up to the challenge, Ser Denys?" I questioned.

"They ought to be, My Lord. In truth, whether they are or not matters little." Shrugged Ser Denys Irons.

"How so?" I queried.

"That would be thanks to the backup plan, My Lord." Answered Ser Denys Irons.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Scaling the walls, My Lord. We outnumbered them by quite a bit. Should our Sappers be unable to properly destroy the gates, we have ladders to scale the walls with." Responded Ser Denys Irons.

"The Brute Force Method will be costly, Ser Denys." I warned.

"It will be if we cannot suppress the Sentries. Thankfully, I have hand-picked a company of Musketeers for that precise job, My Lord." Informed Ser Denys Irons.

"I suppose training and equipment will tell, then." I mused.

"Indeed, My Lord." Nodded Ser Denys Irons.

"Well, good luck, Ser Denys. Unfortunately, I cannot go with you." I frowned.

"Understandable, My Lord. You did take quite a wound in the battle for the town." Agreed Ser Denys Irons.

Ser Denys wasn't wrong about that. What I had originally taken for cracked and bruised ribs turned out to actually be a bit worse than that. According to my Braavosi Physicians, I had no less than one broken, two cracked, and three bruised ribs. They had to bind up my chest tightly, and I had been warned to avoid strenuous activity while it healed. That, it turned out, wouldn't be for another seven weeks at the earliest, meaning that I might even miss Littlefinger's sailing to Tyrosh and have to delegate the attack. Even if I didn't have to delegate the attack, we would have to move our intercept back. Initially, we had planned to intercept his fleet as he sailed out of the Fingers toward the Salvation Islets. With my revised healing time, however, we would not be able to intercept him before he left the Salvation Islets to make the southward turn toward Tyrosh. And that was if I managed to heal at the earliest predictions. If not, then I would need to delegate that operation.

It was a mess that I had been wounded this badly. It seemed that Ser Donnel Waynewood hadn't been made Knight of the Bloody Gate for no reason, and cutting him down, along with his squire and brothers, had been no mean feat. Already, I had heard a few bards begin to sing a song they were calling 'The Breaking of the Wheel' based on how I had gone through the cream of House Waynewood during the battle for the Town. Honestly, provided I recovered from my wounds all right, I didn't much care. However, I was all too aware of how such things could be used in jest if the doing of the deeds in the song effectively crippled the subject. I didn't want that to happen with this. I suppose it all depended on whether I made a full recovery or not in the next seven to nine weeks.

Regardless, Ser Denys was still waiting on my word. I turned back to Ser Denys, nodding at him. The Ironborn Ex-Sellsword nodded back at me before speaking once again.

"By your leave, My Lord." He intoned.

"Aye, Ser Denys. By all means, see to your preparations for the attack." I agreed.

Ser Denys bowed before straightening. Then he turned on his sabaton-clad heel and strode out, donning his Gothic-style Sallet Helm and yellowing for a messenger to attend him and summon the men. As he did so, one of the Braavosi Physicians tugged sharply on the bandage, causing me to wince slightly from pain. I fixed the man with a look and scowl, demanding to know what was going on.

"By the Gods, Man! Are you tying down a sail or bandaging me up?" I demanded.

"Apologies, My Lord. We must ensure the ribs are properly secured in place to heal the right way." Spoke the Physician with a slight accent.

Sighing, I nodded and let the Man continue with his bandaging. As he did so, I tried not to fidget from the pain radiating from his jostling. Instead, I focused on the situation and anticipation.

One way or another, this battle would end tonight. . .

XXXX

Ser Andrew Tollett frowned as he stared down from the Gate Tower of the Castle of Maidenpool. The gate tower was one of four towers of pink stone that rose up from Maidenpool Castle, along with the Harbor Tower, Kitchen Tower, and Jonquil's Tower. They jutted out from the walls of Maidenpool, ringing the thick, squat, keep like a four-pointed crown of pink spires. The Gate Tower was named as such due to its proximity to the main gate of the Castle, and thus was ideally situated to place a core of archers, musketeers, or crossbowmen in to help cover the approach to the Main Gate of the Castle should the town be taken by an enemy force. Likewise, the Harbor Tower overlooked the path between the Harbor of Maidenpool and the Castle, ensuring that any seaborne attackers who had seized control of the Harbor could not storm the Castle through the postern gate.

The other two towers, Jonquil's Tower and the Kitchen Tower, were less immediately useful for the defense of the Castle of Maidenpool, with the Kitchen Tower, so named due to its proximity to the Kitchens, generally being used for storage. Meanwhile, Jonquil's Tower was a residential tower, having long since been used for such, even during the days of Jonquil and Florian the Fool. It was in Jonquil's Tower that the remaining Mooton Women and nine-year-old Meryn Mooton had taken up residence, as Ser Andrew's father, Lord Uthor Tollett, had taken up residence in the keep and turned the Keep into the strategic center of the defense of Maidenpool. That meant the keep would most definitely be a target of attack by the enemy, which was the stated reason for moving the Mootons to Jonquil's Tower. Privately, Ser Andrew believed it had less to do with strategy and more to do with Lady Cassandra's sharp tongue. Lord Mooton's wife was quite the shrewish woman at times, after all.

Either way, it hadn't been a matter that Ser Andrew was qualified to speak on. Even as the heir to House Tollett, he was still only seventeen and had only just been made a Knight. He was not yet expected to be able to comment on or contribute to grand strategy in any meaningful way. That was why he had been stationed here, in the Gate Tower. To lead a mixed group of Archers, Crossbowmen, and Musketeers in helping to defend the Main Gate of the Castle of Maidenpool. He had been posted here to prove his judgment as a battlefield leader, and Ser Andrew Tollett would be damned if he failed in that task. That was why, when the enemy began to move up out of the town toward the Castle's Main Gate in force, Ser Andrew's first instinct was to call for a messenger.

"Send Word to my father in the Castle! It seems the enemy is coming for the Main Gate! They've brought sappers and ladders to use against the Gate itself and to scale the walls! Tell him this and to muster the reserves we have left to repel an attack!" Commanded Ser Andrew.

"Aye, Milord! Will do!" Saluted the Messenger, a boy even younger than Andrew himself, wearing the Salmon of Mooton on his tabard.

As the messenger hurried away, Ser Andrew Tollett could only shake his head. The Mootons had sent their host south to King's landing, and only had been able to muster a militia of green boys and old men for the defense of Maidenpool Proper because of it. It was a shame, but then, it seemed that sort of thing could happen in war. Especially when it was a war you were losing. Ser Andrew never would have mentioned it out loud, but privately, he had felt they ought to ask for terms now, while they still had a toe hold in the Riverlands to barter with. Unfortunately, Lord-Regent Baelish was intent on seeing this through to the end and was dragging the Vale along for the ride. He couldn't afford to wallow in those thoughts long, though. The Enemy was moving against the Main Castle Gate, and Ser Andrew had to return his mind to the task at hand.

"All right, Lads! Hold your fire till they send out their sappers! Don't waste ammunition on normal troops. The enemy will just replace them! Odds are, if they can't blow down the gates, they'll be forced to do things the old-fashioned way, and that will buy us time!" Ordered Ser Andrew.

The plan was a simple one. Don't fire until the sappers expose themselves. If they could kill the sappers, then it was likely they wouldn't get through the gates and would be bled heavily taking the walls. It wasn't the greatest plan. It wasn't a plan to achieve victory, but it was the best one that Ser Andrew could come up with at the moment. Maybe a more experienced Knight could figure out a better one, but until that happened, Ser Andrew would hopefully buy the defenders time with this. He was swiftly proven right in his thinking, as the moment the troops on the walls started firing at the oncoming mass of enemy troops, a company of enemy Musketeers began firing back, slaying Archers, Musketeers, and Crossbowmen with deadly and accurate counterfire. The enemy definitely knew how to suppress forces on the walls. Had he let his men fire willy-nilly into the enemy, those shots would have been aimed at them.

Thankfully, they wouldn't be waiting long before they could begin firing themselves. Once the enemy Musketeers had managed to suppress the Archers, Musketeers, and Crossbowmen on the Walls and in the Gatehouse, a quartet of enemy Sappers sprang forth out of the mass of enemy troops. Two carried hammers and chisels, while the other two carried satchels with hissing, slow-burning matchcords sticking out of them as fuses. Retards, Ser Andrew believed they were called. These Sappers raced toward the gates, trying to spike the Petards against the Weirwood gates and blow them wide open. Ser Andrew couldn't allow that to happen, now could he? Turning to his men, he began to give orders.

"Steady on, Lads! Prepare to fire! Wait till they cross halfway to the gates, then open fire!" Commanded Ser Andrew.

Then, Ser Andrew returned to watching the battle unfold. He held his breath, hoping his men were good enough shots for this to work. Then the enemy sappers reached the halfway mark, and his men began firing. Arrows loosed, crossbow bolts issued forth, and musket balls shot out from his men. A storm of missiles ripped out from the Gate Tower of Maidenpool Castle, falling down around the Enemy Sappers like poisoned rain. Ser Andrew had to physically hold himself back from crying out in triumph as first the Hammer and Chisel Sappers went down, one to a trio of crossbow bolts and an arrow penetrating the armor, the other to a musket ball shattering his skull. Then one of the Petard-carrying Sappers went down, his right knee practically evaporating from a musket ball. Unfortunately, the response from the enemy was even deadlier.

Musketballs came in at Ser Andrew and his men, punching through mail and breastplates like parchment, slaying his men in numbers. Ser Andrew called out for his men to hold steady, but their fire was slackening under the withering counterfire from the enemy Musketeers. A last crossbow bolt managed to punch through the last Petard-Carrying Sapper's thigh, but the Man was still limping toward the gates, chisel held between his teeth and hammer slung through his swordbelt haphazardly. Ser Andrew knew then that it wouldn't be enough unless he did something drastic. Snatching up a bow from one of his fallen men, Ser Andrew Tollett nocked an arrow to the bowstring, drew back, and with a prayer for luck, let fly. Somehow, the Gods must have heard his prayer, because his arrow managed to strike home, punching through the Last Sapper's visor and eye, burying itself in the Man's brain, slaying him.

Moments later, a massive explosion ripped out, knocking Ser Andrew and his remaining men off their feet and shattering every window left in the Castle. When he stumbled back to his feet, Ser Andrew Tollett grinned as he saw that though the Weirwood Gates of the Castle had been scorched and singed by the explosion, they still stood strong. He had done it! The enemy would have to use their ladders to scale the walls the hard way now and bloody themselves badly to do it! Unfortunately, Ser Andrew didn't have long to celebrate. The Enemy Counterfire only picked up steam now, and Ser Andrew Tollett found himself being sighted down on by a man in the livery of House Irons with a Sallet-style Helm in the Norvoshi Style.

The Man's Musket barked once and suddenly, Ser Andrew felt a pain in his stomach, accompanied by the sound of tearing metal. He reached down before bringing his gauntlet up to his eyes to find blood covering the Castle-Forged Steel. He's been shot for his efforts! As he realized that, Ser Andrew Tollett toppled to the floor, a bloody pool spreading across the pink stones beneath him. His last thought before things went dark was that at least he'd managed to see his plan through.

Now it would be up to his father to keep the enemy at bay. . .

XXXX

I frowned as I heard the news. It seemed that despite his best efforts, Ser Denys had been unable to blow the gates of the Castle of Maidenpool down. His sappers had been killed by a cunning commander in the Gate Tower, and the explosion I had just heard a few minutes ago had been the petards going off short of the target. The messenger that just arrived claimed that Ser Denys had slain the enemy commander in the aftermath with well-aimed Musketfire, but that now it was down to ladders and assault the old-fashioned way. I had been afraid this was going to happen. Shaking my head, I turned back to the Messenger, a twelve-year-old who had the mocha-skinned look of a Lhazareen to him.

"What does Ser Denys intend to do now?" I questioned.

"He intends to lead the assault personally, My Lord." Answered the Messenger.

"Does he now?" I queried.

"I don't understand, My Lord. What are you asking?" Asked the Messenger.

"Before you return to Ser Denys, go find Ser Roger Groves. Tell him that I said he is to get her reinforcements for Ser Denys' attack, just in case. A direct assault by ladder is likely to be bloody. I have a feeling Ser Denys will appreciate the reinforcements." I commanded.

"Aye, Milord! I'll do that." Agreed the Messenger.

"Then you had best get to it." I intoned.

The Messenger saluted and then headed out to carry out my orders. I sighed, leaning back slightly in my cushioned seat. Maidenpool was proving more difficult to crack than expected, even now. It seemed that this was not destined to be another flawless victory for me. If we wanted to win here, we would have to fight for it every step of the way. Well, if that was the case, my men were more than up to the challenge. I was just worried about having forces left to face the Others with afterward. Mind you, the North should still have plenty of men, as should Dorne, assuming that Dany doesn't decide to do something foolish and try to come west. Either way, it was going to be a bloody assault, and not one I could mitigate with my presence on the field. We would just have to power through the best we could.

There was no other option now, after all. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here's the next chapter. Maidenpool is turning out to be more difficult than expected for Ricasso's force to take, even now. It's likely to get even more bloody before the end. Meanwhile, Ricasso's ribs were more badly injured in the battle than he'd realized. To the point where he might even wind up having to delegate the attack on Littlefinger next month. Only time will tell with that. Even if he does get to go on the attack, they'll have to intercept Littlefinger after he leaves the Salvation Islets, meaning he's going to have a stronger fleet at whatever battle ensues.

At any rate, the next chapter will be an interlude from Ser Denys Iron's perspective as he does the Brute Force assault on Maidenpool Castle. Then we'll get a look at what's going on in Tolos with Dany.

Stay tuned. . .