Chapter 94

Dyre Den was a well-fortified castle town on the Bay of Crabs. The Town Walls had been rebuilt of sturdy, thick, stone thanks to Littlefinger's Money, and the Castle Itself renovated by the same. Gone were the triad of crooked towers, replaced with a narrower enclosure, roughly in the shape of a figure eight, of much more well-fortified gates and towers. Really, while Brownhollow reminded me a bit of Conwy Castle from my old life on Earth, Dyre Den reminded me of a partial imitation of Caernarfon Castle from my old life on Earth. It was a sign that Baelish had taken the safety of his strongholds in the Point seriously.

They really were beautiful castles, and in an ideal world, I would be able to take my time and starve out the defenders, capturing them largely intact. Unfortunately, this was not an ideal world, far from it. I had been forced to bombard my way through the walls of Brownhollow and it appeared as if I would be forced to do the same with Dyre Den, only even faster, owing to the urgency of the situation. After all, Tywin Lannister had turned the war in the Crownlands into a Race with his actions.

In light of the situation with Tywin Lannister, I was forced to abandon the current strategy of bombardment. Instead of spreading our guns out to create three or more breaches, which could take weeks, I instead focused my guns on two points. The first was the landward gate of Dyre Den. Gates were some of the weakest points in any castle thanks to black powder, and though the landward gate of Dyre Den was built of sturdy oak, banded in iron, it would not withstand cannonfire for very long, even with me concentrating the majority of my guns elsewhere. The second was on the opposite side of the town, closer to the castle.

The idea here was twofold, first, to split the defenders' attention and numbers attempting to guard against two breaches. That part of the strategy tended to be more effective with more than just two breaches, as three or more was ideal for such a thing. Time constraints were what they were, however, and we would make do. The second part of the strategy was that by placing the second breach near the castle, we should be able to cut the defenders of the town off from reinforcements from the castle, turning one assault into two, more manageable, smaller assaults.

Fortunately, it took only thirty-six hours to create our breaches, owing to target selection and concentration of firepower. That was roughly on track with the revised timetable I had drawn up for moving on the Capital. A third breach would have taken another eighteen hours of bombardment, according to my engineers, based on how long it had taken to form the current breaches and a preliminary survey of the walls, with more than that taking even longer, which would have put me behind schedule.

We would simply have to make do, and as I formed up with the assault force heading for the Castle-side Breach, I could only offer a short prayer to Mother Rhoyne for the Landward Gate Assault Force. They were being led by Ser Roger Groves, a capable and veteran commander, but would still likely take heavy losses to murder holes and the like, as the Gatehouse was still largely intact. Truly, I wished them luck, but I couldn't spare much attention for them beyond that.

"All right. Sound the advance." I ordered.

The Fife and Drum Band did so, and the strains of the British Grenadiers, adapted for use in Westeros rang out over the battlefield as we advanced. From the walls on either side of the Breach, a mix of arrows, crossbow bolts, and musketfire lanced out in ragged volleys at our advancing force. A few men nearby fell, with arrows or bolts sticking out of them or holes punched through their armor by musketballs. Our own Musketeers returned fire and a few enemies felt screaming from the walls, even as others were suppressed.

As the ranged forces on both sides fuelled each other, however, our assault column was left alone. The first few volleys had scythed down a few dozen of my men, but that was all that we lost before the enemy and our musketeers locked each other down. Up ahead, a motley group of defenders stood in the breach, wheeled carts overturned to form a makeshift redoubt. Mountain Clansmen, Pointsmen Gallowglass and Kern Infantry, and Crownlander Guards were all mixed together in a formation of spears, axes, and blades.

As we closed, some of the Kerns let fly with what appeared to be some form of short javelin that let out keening wails as they soared through the air. They scythed down a few of our troops and one slammed into my left pauldron, failing to punch through the sturdy arsenal steel, but bowling me over to the ground and bruising my shoulder. I was hauled up to my feet by Clarence Waters, acting as my Squire, and resumed the advance. Moments later, we closed with the enemy and I was forced to shunt the pain in my shoulder aside and focus on the fight.

I opened the battle for the Breach with a pistol shot, as I'd taken to carrying a brace of three loaded snaplock pistols on a leather baldric after the fight at the Failed Ambush. My ball slammed into the Castle-Forged Steel Breastplate of a Gallowglass with a Greatsword standing atop one of the overturned carts and preparing to sweep down with his blade to carve men apart. The pistol shot punched into his chest and he toppled backward off the cart with a strangled scream. I charged into the fray to fill the gap created by his death, leaping atop the cart myself and thrusting down into the face of a Gallowglass with a Sparth Axe, the point of my Valyrian Steel Blade punching through the unarmored front of his open-faced Burgonet and puncturing his brain.

He fell dead to the ground and I withdrew my blade, parrying another thrown Kern Javelin out of the air as it roared toward me. For my riposte, I drew my second pistol and fired it into the Kern who dared strike at me. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut as my shot hit home, and I was suddenly forced to dodge a thrust of a Guardsman's Spear coming up at me from below, swaying aside just in time to avoid the spear from punching up into my groin at an angle that would have bypassed much of my armor. A kick from my right foot knocked the Guardsman, wearing the livery of House Staunton of Rook's Rest, stumbling back, allowing me to swipe out at his throat with a manco cut from left to right, cutting his throat out with my blade.

On the right side of the overturned cart, I watched Clarence Waters bisect a Kern with his Sparth Axe before punching out with his Gauntleted Fist at the throat of a Gallowglass who sought to use the distraction of the Kern to cut Clarence down. The Punch crushed the Gallowglass' windpipe and sent him sputtering backward, allowing Clarence to take his head with a swing of his axe. To my left, I saw Ser Denys Irons, lashing about with his Ironborn Longaxe, cutting off a Brune Guardsman at the Knees before whipping his axe around to cleave the top part of the skull from a Mountain Clansman with an Arming Sword and Leather Targe. All around me, the assault column was stuck in, fighting, killing, and being killed.

For a long period, that's all we did, fight for the breach. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, I had no real way to tell the passage of time, leading from the front as I was. I also cut down what had to be a score of men, Mountain Clansmen, Kerns, Gallowglasses, and Guards. Some I took with my Sidesword, Others with my Dagger. At one point, I lost my dagger in the corpse of a Mountain Clansman and picked up a Hatchet from a slain Mountain Clansman to replace it. That found itself buried in the skull of a Plate-Clad Household Knight of House Staunton in short order. In the fighting, I had descended from atop the cart, marking a circle of death around me as my men pushed forward.

After an indeterminate time of fighting, I was confronted by a Man in his early twenties with brown hair and a wispy brown beard, wearing the Colors of House Brune of Dyre Den. It was the third son of Lord Eustace Brune, Ser Benjicot Brune, who stood ready to bar my path forward. He was clad in Plate Armor of the local, Westerosi, Churburg-esque Style and bore an arming sword and dagger. He nodded at me, and I nodded back, before closing the hounskull visor of his bascinet helm and charging at me.

I was forced to duck the cut of his arming sword and parry the thrust of his fighting dagger with my own blade as he came in. Before I could riposte, however, he pressed forward, launching into a combination of quick thrusts with his dagger and slashes with his arming sword that kept me on the defensive. He was aggressive and fast too, and to his credit, his strategy was working, tired as I was from slogging through more than a score of opponents in the battle already.

I weaved away from a high cut, parried a stab aimed at my thigh, and sidestepped a slash at my head. He pressed me back with a double thrust that forced me to backpedal, even as my back jutted up against the cart. I could practically sense Ser Benjicot Brune's eagerness as he scented blood in the water, lunging in a cut at my neck with his arming sword. He must have expected me to parry, as I had no more ground to give by backing away, but I'd been fighting around Pirates and aboard ships for far too long. Instead, I attempted a ploy that was usually done when your back was to the mast.

I ducked the slash, and, just as I had hoped, it thunked into the wood of the cart, the arming sword catching on the thick boards of the sturdy vehicle. I surge up, parrying the thrust of the dagger and lashing out with my off-hand in a blow aimed at Ser Benjicot Brune's wrist. He let go of his arming sword as my gauntlet slammed into his wrist, leaving it stuck in the wood of the cart. Then I lashed out with a front thrust kick that shoved him back away from me.

Now with only a dagger against my Valyrian Steel Sidesword, it was far easier to simply keep Ser Benjicot Brune at range where he couldn't press me back again. He parried frantically with his dagger as I sent thrust and cut back at him, turning his dagger from a finely-honed, edged weapon into a useless hunk of metal as my Valyrian Steel took chunk after chunk out of the blade, stripping it of its cutting edge and lopping the point off it. Eventually, the dagger shattered altogether, leaving him with a hilt. He threw it at me to gain time, before turning to withdraw, but I ducked the predictable move and cut out with a Molinetto, flicking my wrist into a whirling, swift, cut, that bit into the calf of his leg through the greaves, thanks to the Valyrian Steel Construction of the sidesword.

He stumbled, hobbled, allowing me to catch up to him and bear him to the ground, tossing him over my hip in an Ogoshi-style hip-toss I had learned in another life. He crashed to the cobbles of the street in a heap as I retrieved my blade from where I had dropped it, pointing it at the slit in his visor as he flopped onto his back.

"Yield!" I demanded.

"Aye. I yield." Nodded Ser Benjicot Brune.

The fighting at the breach lasted only a short while after that as we pushed through Ser Benjicot Brune's remaining men. Twenty-five minutes later, we had effectively secured the town, after killing a number of mixed Mountain Clansmen, Kerns, and Crownlander Guards near the town hall led by a bearded Mountain Clansman in a Breastplate who was duel-wielding axes. Shagga son of Dolf charged me as a priority, lashing out with his axes at my skull and neck in a powerful double blow that I ducked underneath. Instead of wasting time trading blows with him, however, I simply pulled my last pistol and fired it into his gut as I ducked. Shagga went down, gutshot, clutching his intestines, and my men pushed through his in short order.

 As it would turn out, Ser Roger Groves would do the same at the Landward Gate around an hour later, having been bloodied by seventeen-year-old Ser Balon Brune, the Firstborn of Lord Eustace Brune's Grandsons. Then, we both took the bulk of our forces to the castle, ready to blow down the gates with bombardment by cannonfire and charge in to seize it by force. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, as a third Brune, this One a man with a goatee in his early forties, arrived under a flag of parlay. Ser Boros Brune, Heir to Dyre Den.

"Hail, Lord Seawynd. My father, Lord Eustace Brune is not a well man. As you have captured my son and brother, and I wish to spare the castle an assault so as to ease my father on his sickbed, I am willing to surrender with conditions." Intoned Ser Boros Brune.

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands, Ser Boros." Scoffed Lord Rupert Crabb, who had fought alongside Ser Roger at the Landward Gate.

"Perhaps, but you are on a schedule, no? I assure you that there are plenty of fallback positions within the New Castle of Dyre Den to make such a schedule be thrown off-kilter." Shrugged Ser Boros Brune.

"How do you know that?" Questioned Ser Roger Groves.

"I know how you took my Cousin's Castle. It was more involved. You did not do that here, cutting the stratagem down to the bone. You must be on a timetable, why else would you have risked only two breaches?" Queried Ser Boros Brune.

"Well reasoned." Huffed Ser Denys Irons.

"You are not wrong, Ser Boros, but with our cannons, gaining entry to your Castle by force is more of a trivial matter than you might think." I insisted.

"Ah, but you cannot wheel those cannons inside, and I assure you we have interior fallback points that might hold a determined force for days." Smirked Ser Boros Brune.

"He has to be bluffing, Lord Seawynd. I say take this Castle by force and damn any conditional surrender." Advised Ser Loras Lothston, also having assaulted with Ser Roger's Force.

"I don't think he is, and I'm a fairly good judge of character." Advised Clarence Waters.

"I agree. Besides, we can afford to negotiate a conditional surrender." I pointed out.

"So you will agree to allow us to surrender with conditions?" Asked Ser Boros Brune.

"Name them, Ser Boros." I nodded.

"First, we wish the return of my brother and son, on parole as it were." Began Ser Boros.

"That can be arranged." I nodded.

"Next, my other brother, Ser Balman Brune, is currently with Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest. I understand you must take that castle to proceed forward, but we would ask you to capture Balman instead of kill him, and return him to us on Parole. His son is only three, you understand, and I don't wish for my nephew to grow up without a father." Continued Ser Boros Brune.

"I can't make any promises, that will largely be up to whether he yields or not. However, I can promise to give him the chance to do so as long as is practicable." I returned.

"I suppose that will have to do." Begrudged Ser Boros Brune.

"Indeed." I nodded.

"At any rate, our last condition is thus. We do not wish to lose any lands, or if we must, we wish only to lose land in the south, the more rugged, hilly land near the Borders with House Crabb. We have only a few villages we can afford to lose before we can no longer feed our people, after all. I am certain King Stannis does not wish a famine to sweep our lands." Insisted Ser Boros Brune.

I looked over to Lord Rupert Crabb and cocked an eyebrow. Lord Ruper frowned in thought, pursing his lips as he thought over the last condition. Eventually, he came up with a solution that, while it wouldn't exactly satisfy the Brunes entirely, would at least allow them to continue to feed their people.

"The Village of Bramblegorge isn't a net food producer but does have a sizable stone quarry attached to it. There's also a decent-sized forest for timber, though it is only barely exploited. That should satisfy King Stannis' requirements for punishments while also allowing the Brunes to keep their agriculturally productive land." Summed up, Lord Crabb.

"Does this satisfy you, Ser Boros?" I questioned.

"Much as losing Bramblegorge and its environs will harm our pocketbook, I am pledged to agree with Lord Crabb. We would still be able to feed our people." Admitted Ser Boros Brune.

"Then that is what shall happen. I shall write to King Stannis apprising him of the situation, but for now, consider your conditional surrender accepted." I intoned.

And like that, the siege of Dyre Den was over, another glorious victory for King Stannis. We had lost another six hundred men killed or wounded, primarily from Ser Roger Groves' Landward Gate Assault Force, but finally, the point was fully subdued. King Stannis' reply to the terms came the next morning with an affirmative answer as we were preparing to strike camp. He deeded the Village of Bramblegorge to me to dispense as I saw fit. I gave it to Lord Crabb, who came up with the idea of me Knighting Clarence for his participation in the War so far and feeding it to him. I did so, and Clarence Waters became Ser Clarence Pincer, founding a Cadet House of House Crabb that would be Knights of Bramblegorge going forward, likewise sworn to me.

That done, we marched out the same day as King Stannis' reply came, striking camp and heading for Rook's Rest. It was the last stop before Duskendale and needed to be taken in order to break out of Cracklaw Point as well as link up with my Wife and Goodfather at Duskendale. Once I'd done that, it was on to the Capital.

Then we would hopefully be free to turn about and smash Tywin Lannister. . .

XXXX

AN: Another big victory for Ricasso's forces, however, he's still suffered a sizable number of casualties, owing to their need for haste. Thus far, between the three battles he's fought and normal campaign attrition for an Early Modern War, he's lost around two thousand troops, killed, wounded, and sick. That brings him down to around twenty-eight-thousand combat-effective troops. That's still plenty, combined with the troops in Duskendale, to move on King's Landing from the North. Stannis' own troops coming up from the South will also help there.

At any rate, the next chapter will be the Battle of Rook's Rest. Then we'll finally get an update on Ned and the North in an interlude.

Stay tuned. . .