Chapter 2

Rylen swore inwardly as he steadied himself on the rampart. The sun was fast setting and a chill bit into the wind, carrying the warmth of the torches with it. He released his grip on the iron railings so that he could draw his cloak tighter about him. He had seen armies before of course, and his fair share of battles. He still remembered his terror during his first and he only grew to hate them more since.

Battle was unpredictable. Carefully laid plans and positioning counted for little once steel clashed. Dead bodies would pile up, the lucky ones died straight away. Everybody else would linger for a while, calling out choking on their own blood.

The sight of it he eventually got used to. It was the smell that he never did. The last one was over a trade route dispute between rival merchant princes. The battle of lace and pearls the locals had called it. As if a pretty name gave the battle any real meaning beyond the blood.

That had been a good few years back now. Despite trying his utmost to avoid battle, one was now at his doorstep. He scanned the horizon and could only watch as the enemy constructed their camp. Like canvassed wings slowly extending. The feeling of being encircled was one that Rylen did not care for much. They were about a league out as best as he could tell.

“Out of bow’s reach but not so far that they do not vex my eyes.” He lamented.

 He watched as various banners went up and men called to each other. They sounded cheerful enough. It was stark contrast to the mood this side of the walls.

Most of the sigils he recognised, others he did not. The chief among them was the flayed man. They had been the first to set up, directly opposite the main gate. To their right were the Whitehills. He remembered the four pointed star in his studies as a youth. To the left he recognised the green weeping willow of house Ryger, one of the more notable houses in the Riverlands. He continued to watch for a while as they continued to grow the ring around Duskendale, penning the inhabitants in.

Ser Lionel had fled back to the Dun fort as soon as the alarm had sounded. His troops had hung back during the fray between the sellswords and the town’s guards. Doing so had allowed him to slip out without notice. Taking full advantage of the chaos in the town for his own gain.

 The fat knight was now barricaded along with the Lady Rykker and her children; no doubt selling himself as their sole protector. He would be selling them out soon enough. Rylen almost felt sorry for the poor woman, but he could not worry about that now. Instead he cursed the coward and himself for not taking up residence there himself. Without it his bargaining posture was significantly weakened.

From below he could hear the anxious chatter of the inhabitants. Most had gathered in the courtyard, townsfolk, guards and builders alike. All waited nervously. He had the bulk of his men posted on the walls. They all looked out solemnly. He knew what they were thinking. This was not what they had signed up for. It fell to Rylen to keep them alive and get them paid and homeward bound. And they would keep him honest to the task.

He knew them all. A few, like Marquello had been with him since the start. Some had joined on as experienced campaigners in one way or another along the way. Others had joined fresh faced as the day they left their mother’s womb. These had to work to earn their place. But regardless, each of them had seen and spilled blood. Rylen had made sure of that. He had seen companies green with inexperience crumble.

Below he could hear the locals talking about surrender and what it would mean. Most of them had no real loyalty to the crown. They simply wanted an end to the war so they could return to their farms and villages. The sooner they returned the sooner they could rebuild. Wars ended. The people that survived it persevered as best as they could.

Until the next war started. It was a sad cycle of life.

"Now there’s a sight to cause a hen to lay twice, as my dear mam used to say." Duncan’s irritable voice cut through the reverie.

Rylen had heard footsteps but was a little surprised to see his grey foe by his side. Only hours before he had been calling for the mercenary captain’s blood. Not so anymore. Without the twin suns Duncan and his lot were sure to perish. Duncan knew this and had to hope that the sellswords would stay true to their contract. Rylen ignored the comment, not wishing to get drawn into another argument.

"My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. How many of the b******s do you make out?" Duncan asked, also gripping the rails as he looked out.

Rylen turned and saw that the old custodian had donned a thick leather cloak but opted to keep the hood down. It showed signs of cracked wear but appeared to be treated regularly. 

"Too many." Rylen thought sourly to himself. 

But he needed to keep Duncan placated. That was if the negotiations were to go smoothly.

"I number them around two thousand, maybe more. I’ll know for certain once they ve finished setting up." Rylen answered after giving the appearance of scanning the perimeter.

"Will they attack tonight?" Duncan asked as he fiddled with his hilt and straightened his back resolutely.

Rylen glanced at him then with a raised eyebrow. As much as he hated the man he had to admire his courage. They were heavily outnumbered but Duncan was still prepared to fight for a lost cause. All to keep a boy he had never met on a throne for a little while longer.

"I doubt it. They’ll be content to show their strength and sap our spirit. They’ll send someone to negotiate our surrender in due time. It’s what I would do in their place." Rylen explained stoically.

"That’s what worries me." Duncan replied, his voice suddenly lowering making it sound more like a growl.

Not one to let such undertones go unnoticed he turned to face Duncan. Beneath the grey soldier’s bushy eyebrows the eyes were fixed with determination, as if an unseen dark shadow had passed over them. He narrowed them before continuing.

"I have over a hundred men at my command. Half your number, tis true. But each of them is willing to fight. Good god faring men, men with families. Each armed and ready to do their duty." Duncan explained, pleading the town’s case.

"Don’t sell them down the river. If those b******s over yonder want this place, let them pay the iron price. We’ve got iron in abundance." He drew his sword to showcase his point before slowly sheathing it.

The sight would have been comical if not for the predicament that had befallen them. Ever the pragmatist Rylen tried to reason with the old war hero in the making.

"There is no army marching to our aid. Look about you. This is it." Rylen swept his arm over the town emphatically.

"If we had the fort, then maybe we could hold out. But our plump guest has denied us even that. I guarantee that he is drafting his terms of surrender as we speak. The lady and her family along with him." Rylen finished.

Duncan turned towards the fort and growled once more.

"I’ll never forgive that coward for locking us out. And I’ll see a noose around his fat neck if he gives up our lady. But we don’t need old Dun. This town is well fortified enough."

Rylen shook his head. It was a trademark for those that had never seen a battlefield to aggrandise the experience. Even those as matured as Duncan.

"I’ll do what’s right for the town." Rylen assured him, deliberately keeping his response ambiguous.

Duncan accepted the words despite seeming sceptical.

"Well, I can say no more. The fate of the town rests on your shoulders. I’ll take my men to the chaplain and pray. We’re all in the sevens hands after all, even you Rylen. They must have sent you here for a reason." Duncan explained as he turned to leave.

Rylen nodded, relieved the conversation was over. Just as he turned his back, he heard Duncan speak again from the stairwell.

"My eyes may be failing me but I didn’t see any siege engines. I’ll like to see them try and get past these walls without ‘em." He trailed off with a chuckle before disappearing altogether.

Rylen was stunned. He was so caught up with the upcoming negotiations that he missed it. He could have kissed the old b*****d but there was a chance that Duncan’s ticker would burst. The town would still be taken. He simply did not have the men to stop them. But a prey did not have to be strong enough to defeat its predator. It just had to be more hassle that it was worth. Without effective siege weapons a well fortified garrison would be a buggar to take. A more palatable surrender looked much more probable.

Another hour or so passed like this. Various people from the town visited to check up on him. But for the most part they came to see the scale of what had befallen them. Marquello seemed the most displeased.

"Please tell me you have a plan in that head of yours to get us out of this pile of s**t."

Rylen turned to face his friend and saw a frustration that mirrored his own.

"Of course I do." Rylen shot back, his irritation returning.

"I hope so. I also hope that your blood ties to these lands don’t affect your judgement. Remember I know why you had to leave to begin with."

Marquello’s eyes held a hint of suspicion as he spoke. It had been a long time since he had seen that look upon his friend’s face.

"This isn’t some pissing match between the free cities. We are in the middle of a war of succession for the biggest throne in the known world." Marquello argued.

"Just means there’s more piss if you ask me." Rylen scoffed.

He had no desire to dig up his past again. The decision to come back to the seven kingdoms after leaving its shores was no easy one. Upon hearing about the re-emergence of a Targaryan girl and dragons he decided it was time to leave Essos. 

"You remember the battle of Tyrosh?" Rylen asked him.

"How could I forget?" his companion snorted in reply.

"We were hired by the Tigers of Volantis to help protect the city. They were desperate to keep their dynasty going. Hiring anyone who could hold a sword to man the walls and protect the keep." Marquello recollected.

"I remember. You went by a different name as did the company, what were we called back then?" His friend asked.

"The silver hawks. I even had one of the men to embroid one onto a sky blue backdrop. Wasn’t half bad..." Rylen trailed off as the memories started to come back.

It had been an impossible job. The attackers and their allies outnumbered the tigers by almost five to one. They had survived the ninepennies war when the last of the exiled Targaryans were defeated. However Tyrosh was too rich a city to be safe for long. It was also too large to effectively defend. He took the contract anyway, partly because he was paid up front. He also knew what the tigers did not. And that was the front gate would be open when the attackers arrived. All for a pretty sum of course.

He had made secret correspondence with their leaders of the assault. The day came and sure enough Rylen had ensured that the silver hawks were on guard duty. Come the hour he ordered the gates opened and watched as the attackers poured in. By the time the alarm was signalled it was too late. Thankfully the sacking was over not long after it started. Hundreds had perished but thousands more would have died if the siege had played out. At least that is what Rylen the others, and himself.

With their reputation in tatters the silver hawks disbanded that very same day. It was a shame, Rylen had liked that banner. He regretted losing it, even now.

"Your point?" Marquello prompted him.

"The point is I got us out of that mess, just as I’ll get us out of this one." Rylen rebuked. His gut twitched with guilt as he said it.

Rylen briefly looked about the town and its inhabitants. True to his word Duncan and the bulk of his men had removed themselves to prayer. The town’s chaplain would also be working overtime this night. Fearing an imminent attack the others in the courtyard headed for the seven sisters tavern. It was one of the sturdier structures in the town.  

Marquello followed his captain’s gaze.

"Hm, well the old fart is up for a fight. He seems to think he can turn this war around. A few of the others feel the same but most are worried... scared even. They havn’t seen war before and they never expected to. Now it’s upon them." His bearded companion explained.

"You best head back down and stop them from doing anything stupid." Rylen instructed.

The words had barely left his tongue when a horn suddenly sounded out from beyond the gate. At first Rylen feared that an attack was imminent and that he had guessed their intent wrong. He had known castles and camps to fall to night time raids after being caught unawares.

"Looks like a score of riders, cantering this way." Marquello observed through narrowed eyes. 

It was hard to see clearly as the last of the sun’s rays began to disappear. The torches upon the walls only illuminated so far.

In pairs they rode towards the gate. At their head was a man, looked to be in the early summer of his years. His hair was yellow blonde and long enough so that it flowed about his shoulders. He rode in a causal manner, clearly used to riding as such among an armed escort. He was flanked by two men, one held a torch aloft the other a banner sporting the white peak and star he had seen earlier.

"It seems the negotiations are about to begin." Rylen announced as he signalled to those on the walls to lower their bows.

They complied but kept them half drawn all the same, just as they had been trained to do. Together they watched as the visitors slowed their approach as they neared the main gate. At this distance Rylen could make out their faces well enough. The blonde one was clearly in command. The condescending smirk on his face belied his noble heritage. As well as the way he sat lazily upon his saddle. After taking in the measure of the wall and those upon it he commentated to his men. The only thing worse than his smirk was his snigger.

"Just give me the signal and I’ll have a bolt in his throat." Marquello assured Rylen as he raised his arm readying the command.

Rylen shook his head before cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Ahoy down there. May I ask who approaches my gates?" He called down.

"Your gates? Well, I suppose they are. For the time being..."  The reply caused the blonde haired one to smirk once more.

Rylen disliked him immediately. Another self entitled brat sent to claim the spoils of war that others had fought and died for. His silver armour was well polished and not a blemish or dent could be seen from his vantage point above. Rylen stifled his urge to take up Marquello’s offer and instead waited for a formal reply.

"I am Gryff Whitehill, son of Lord Ludd Whitehill of Highpoint. My father and Lord Bolton have delegated the negotiation of your surrender to me. They have deemed it not necessary for them to attend themselves." The younger Whitehill sniggered once more.

"Captain Rylen Harner of the twin suns. I speak on behalf of Ser Lionel Fyste who has deemed it the same." Rylen answered. 

It was comforting to know he still had his wit.

He watched as Gryff’s jaw locked into place as his brow furrowed. His back also appeared to stiffen as he sat up.

"Ah yes, the sellsword captain. We had word from some chaps we found on our way here. Very forthcoming about what’s been happening in this little town. Then again sellswords are renowned for not needing much persuasion to loosen their tongues."

It was Rylen’s turn to stiffen as Gryff relaxed once more with a wry chuckle. So his men on patrol had been captured and held by the Boltons. With their reputation for extracting information they would not be much that the enemy did not know.

"It is also worth knowing that the kingslayer is currently the guest of Lord Robb Stark. King in the north."

Once more Gryff paused to let his words sink in. Rylen for his part did not flinch, he had guessed as much already.

"Then there is the business of handing the keys to Duskendale over." Gyff finished as he examined his gloved fingers.

For all Rylen knew this was the last Lannister stronghold in the Crownlands, and Tywin was not likely to invest anymore in retaking it. But Rylen had no intention of giving it over free of charge.

"Well, it seems you have me at a disadvantage. But I’ll make this simple enough nonetheless. If you want this town you will have to pay for it. Either in blood or coin. I would prefer the latter, and in a golden denomination. You should know however that my men have become quite accustomed this town.’ He called down.

Gryff paused and entered in a hushed conference with a couple of his men. Not long after another rider approached them. He was travelling at a fair pace from the fort. After a moment of hearing his news Gryff turned to look back up. The smirk on his face returned.

"It appears you do not possess the Dun fort nor the lady grace Rykker. Failing to mention this is bad form to say the least." Gryff chastised the man above him.

Rylen cursed Lionel once more. It seems he had surrendered before terms could even be reached. His appetite was not the only thing he had in abundance.

"It must have slipped my memory." Rylen called down sheepishly, trying to salvage the conversation.

"Although you should know he weighs far more than his worth." He could not resist adding.

 

Gryff made an appearance of talking with his confidants once more. As if he did not already know what he was going to say. Thankfully Rylen did not have to wait too long for the cold did not discriminate between victims.

"Lucky for you I am feeling charitable this evening." Gryff called up, feigning an air of benevolence.

"I offer you thirteen pieces of silver per man. You have my word that you will have safe passage to the coast as far as I can guarantee it. Your men we have will also be returned to you."

Gryff paused then to make sure Rylen heard it all. The meaning behind thirteen pieces of silver was not lost on the captain. He stood there as Gryff concluded his terms.

"The town, its contents and all other inhabitants will be ours as prisoners of war. You have an hour to decide. Just know we will be ready to attack come the morning. It is up to you how well you sleep tonight." The young lordling finished emphatically.

With that he spurred his horse around and cantered back from where he came. His entourage surveyed the walls before following suit. It was not long before all that could be seen was a trail of dust in the distance.

"Thirteen pieces of silver? It will barely cover the voyage back." Marquello muttered bitterly.

Rylen hesitated to answer. He played back the conversation in his head before confirming what he already suspected.

"They have no intention of paying us a penny." Rylen concluded as he continued to look out to the enemy camp. 

The torches would have revealed a cold glint in his eyes if anyone could see them.

"They’ll have our heads on spikes come the morning if we open the gates.’ He explained, spitting over the wall upon finishing.

He felt Marquello blanch before the words tumbled out of his friend's mouth

"How can you be so sure? Besides we don’t have the men to stop them. What do you propose we do?" 

Rylen did not know the answer to that. All he knew was that the whole negotiation was a feint. After all he had done his fair share over the years. Some were genuine others were not. He had learned when somebody was selling him vinegar in a wine casket. The warning from Glensdale still weighed heavily on his mind. He wondered what smirk filled offer they received to do likewise.

Rylen pondered his next move as Marquello cursed into the late evening air. After being prompted several times for a response, he answered as best as he could.

"I’ll let you know in an hour." he replied eventually, his voice as sour as his mood.

Rylen watched as Marquello stormed off. It was best to let his hot tempered friend cool off.  He knew he would have to assemble the entire town and address them. But that could wait a moment more he decided. Instead he stood there staring into the distance. Past the sloped field that separated the two opposing forces. Past the besiegers as they sang merry songs. Even past the horizon beyond, shrinking everything in its path except his worries.

He simply stared in the direction of a coastal town somewhere in the Stormlands. And in that moment he wondered if he would ever see home again.