Six Months Later…

Outside Stoney Sept…

Moon of the Wolf, 281 After Aegon's Conquest…

"Turtle formation!"

"Hoo-ah!" The Second Dragon and First Shark Legions barked as their shields immediately snapped over their heads into a dome of oak and steel.

"Forward march!" Was called and the legions marched forward to meet the Royalist force bearing down on them, all as I stood on a hill overlooking the battlefield.

Lord Jon Connington, the son of a bitch, had not only been appointed Lord General of all Royalist forces but had also been made Hand of the King in the wake of Lord Merryweather's exile. And the host he led was quite impressive – larger than the combined forces of the Riverlands and North I was currently watching do battle… Well, Riverlands' forces, I should say. I'd held my men in reserve so far but soon that would change.

My Captains had allowed their men to rest, simply waiting for the Riverlords to earn their vaunted, bloody glory while the Royal forces of the Crownlands, Blackwater Rush, and Royalist houses of River and Storm clashed outside Stoney Sept. Learning that House Bracken had joined the Targaryen forces was a blow to the Tully army as the Brackens had the finest Cavalry in the Riverlands – and it wasn't even a debate. It also meant that Hoster could only pull together less than forty thousand men, just a few thousand more than what the North had sent marching to war.

Three of my Legions had marched to the Saltpans, waiting to join with Lord Arryn's host of thirty thousand – though Lord Arryn mostly rode with Cavalry and the near-mythic Knights of the Vale.

So, with that in mind, I had requisitioned the First Wolf and Trident Cavalry for my own use.

Not that they would be put to use quite yet.

Lord Connington had apparently just realized through the fog of war that there was another army waiting to fight – one now marching down his throat. I narrowed my eyes under my visor as I enhanced the man's face through my helmet's binos. He was shouting something, but I had no idea what it could have been. Then a trumpet (not a bull horn like the North used for issuing simple commands but an honest-to-God simple, brass trumpet) squealed, and the Royalists turned their mounts or ran away.

The Riverland's forces cheered loudly, but I knew the fight had only just really begun. I frowned as I listened to the Captains bark orders through my helmet and watched as the Legions fell stock still, falling to a rest position (again) as the Royalists fell back.

Jon Connington may not have fought in the battle of Ashford against Robert Baratheon, but he had come here looking for the man. But Robert wasn't here, at least not that I knew of. He and his armies – along with Prince Oberyn's Dornishmen – had managed to escape the Reach forces and now made for Maidenpool.

I had to give credit to Lord Tarly, the man was an excellent battle commander. The fact that he sent the combined forces of Dorne and the Stormlands (and the fact that those two kingdoms allied at all would in and of itself be a tale that would echo through history) into a retreat was impressive, even if the battle itself was indecisive. The Reach may have made Robert act sooner than he would have liked, but that was fine.

Now Robert was free to combine his armies of the Stormlands with a Northern and Vale allied force and the army of Dorne.

Twenty thousand Northmen, thirty-five thousand Valemen, thirty thousand Stormlords, and ten thousand Dornishmen were all free to ride to King's Landing while the Tyrell army of one hundred thousand strong laid siege to Storm's End.

Ninety-five thousand against one hundred thousand may have sounded like a fair fight, but that was only if the Tyrells could manage to march their hundred thousand men through the Kingswood without stopping every afternoon to feast like they currently were around Storm's End.

Though why Mace Tyrell decided that he was going to siege Storm's End was beyond me. This wasn't Robert's War, and Storm's End wasn't a particularly valuable castle – not for a harbor nor because it held a strategic position like the Golden Tooth, Moat Cailin, or the Twins. It was set on a cliff over a cove called Shipbreaker Bay. I didn't know much about ships, but the ominous title is ominous.

Tyrell could have reinforced the capital, given chase to Robert and Prince Oberyn, or even reinforced Lord Connington as he marched to Stoney Sept on bad intelligence. A hundred thousand strong would have helped the King's Hand in this fight. Not that, in my opinion, the Reacherlords would have helped.

Though I imagine Lord Connington running into a combined force of fifty-five thousand, fresh River and Northmen when he was expecting to find less than forty thousand, tired Stormlords and Desert Dwellers did not make for a good day. Especially since Connington only led a host of fifty thousand pulled together by their bootstraps. It was a ragtag bunch of Targaryen men, Riverlords, Crownlanders, Stormlords, and the occasional men of the Vale, but they were all working halfway competently together under the Lord of Griffin's Roost.

The Rivermen, though, had lost all sense of discipline as they watched their enemy turn tail and run. Lord Connington's smirk said everything I needed to know, though. I growled lightly as the rearguard of Lord Connington's force pulled together, turning into a wall of wood, steel, spears, and swords as the retreating men slipped through the line before turning back around to face the now stunned Riverlords.

"Captains: wedge formation. Full march."

"Aye, Lord Marshall." Captains Mormont and Snow said in unison as I watched the legion – still under their shields – stretch until the formation was an arrowhead shape with their spears lowered and prepared.

"Tribune Frosher, Tribune Kellington: loose three volleys. Artillery, give 'em hell. Captains: advance at double time. I want that left front broken, then wheel through."

"Aye, Lord Marshall." The four men barked, barking their orders as the men charged the Eastern flank of the Royalist army.

The Rivermen, stunned by the change in the Royal army and even more confused by the cacophonous, rhythmic tramping of feet turned to find their allies aiming directly for the now seemingly solid line of Knights and Men at Arms.

Then the screaming began as the first hellstorm of two thousand arrows and ballista bolts rained down onto or tore through the Royalists. Hundreds of men fell to the ground screaming or eerily silent as the Legion charged. The first volley was followed by another two, the last hitting the Royalists just before the Legions smashed through the line.

And smashed through it did.

The men of the Riverlands scrambled out of the way of the Legions, hurling insults at Connington's army as the Lord Griffin himself stared at the charging wedge of wood and steel in unbelieving horror. He tried screaming orders to the line, but it was useless. The legions, the combined might of eleven thousand strong, smashed against and crashed through the softened Targaryen line like a ram against a paper door.

Swords clacked against shields, and spears shattered as the Royalist army tried to repel the might of the Legions, some even managing to hit their marks in the Legions – but in the end it was futile.

Men screamed, horses panicked, but the Legions marched all the same. The Royalists tried to fight them off but were only met by spear or a blade. Then the entire force was through the line, and the Royalist army was trapped between the hammer of the legions and anvil of the weakened Riverlands army.

I nodded as the Legions kept pushing, kept fighting against the Targaryen army, which was utterly shattered. The bugler didn't even need to sound the retreat as the Royalists, panicking and desperate, ran. The rout had begun in full force as the Royalist army fell over each other, trying to escape from the Legion tearing through their comrades.

The Rivermen cried out triumphantly, chasing down what was left of Lord Connington's army, but I had different plans for my men.

"Captains, good work. Hold your men and let them go."

"My Lord?"

"Lord Connington's army is broken. He won't be fighting anymore today – and if we force their hand, they still outnumber us nearly four to one. We can hold them, or defeat them outright, but not without making them desperate or killing our own men uselessly. As of now, the best we can hope for is that Robert's army will be in position to cut them off."

"Aye, ser," Captain Mormont (one of Dacey's lesser cousins) said. "Are we to return to camp?"

"Aye, Captain. I think I'll join you. The Lords can wait."

"Lord Agonstark, good of you to join us."

"My apologies, my Lords, I was getting the Legions settled in. They may fight with the sword but they win with the pick. What have I missed?" I asked as Lord Tully narrowed his eyes. After all, I did make him wait nearly an hour and a half.

"We estimate that twenty to twenty five thousand Royalists were killed in the fighting, Jon Connington's force is only half of what it used to be."

"And how many did we lose?"

"Fifteen thousand. What of you, Lord Agonstark."

"Five."

"Five thousand? Surely not."

"No, my Lord, five. As in myself, yourself, and Lords Blackwood, Mallister, and Piper. Five." The Lords in the tent went wide-eyed at that little proclamation, but I frowned all the same. "Plenty more were wounded but the Legions are still at their full strength."

"I… I see." Hoster stammered, frowning as he stroked his beard. "I am impressed. Without your legions, Lord Connington would have claimed victory this day."

"He still might not be done," I said as I pointed at the map. "Robert should be some place here," tapping a point just off the Goldroad toward Duskendale. "We know he is aiming to meet with the Northern and Vale allied forces at Maidenpool but, should Lord Arryn be marching already, they could meet here." Indicating the King's Road between the Sow's Horn and Rosby.

"What? Are you suggesting they march to King's Landing?" Lord Piper scoffed.

"With Lord Arryn's men and the rest of my legions, they would be able to cut off any supply the city has, Lord Piper. Lord Arryn could also establish a forward base at Rosby."

"You forget, King's Landing can be resupplied by sea."

"I have already seen to that." Lord Tully said, looking at the map with a frown. "And if my damned brother's worth anything he'll have convinced Lord Arryn to send his fleet to blockade the Blackwater as well."

"They'll have to defeat the Royal Navy, my Lord."

"Yes, they will. The Velaryons have always been loyal to the Targaryens and give any foe hell at sea." Lord Tully growled. "But we must worry about fighting on the ground, let the boatmen worry about what's to come at sea."

"Yes, Lord Tully." The Lords said as one.

"Lord Mallister, what is the situation with your fleet?"

"My Lord, they would never make it in time to be of assistance."

"They would if you sailed North." I said to the laughter of Lord Piper and Blackwood.

"North? There's no way to get around the continent to the North!"

"There is now," I said, pointing to the Fever on the map.

"You'd have me kill my men!?"

"No, the Fever river is now a canal. My Lords, through a series of locks and dams, it now flows from the Saltspear and spills into The Bite. It has been tamed."

"Gods… If what you say is true, we could have ships in the Blackwater Bay in a moon turn…"

"Aye, that's the hope," I grunted. "But right now we have to see to the wounded."

"And the dead."

"Aye, and the dead." I sighed, shaking my head as I thought about it. "Have we searched the field for any potential hostages?"

"I have men doing so," Lord Hoster said.

"What do we do with the other survivors?" Lord Mallister asked, eyes flicking between Lord Tully and me. "Important hostages should be held at Riverrun, but who do we have to trade?"

"Not Prince Rhaegar." Lord Piper sneered. I cut my eyes at him next – fixing him with my glare.

"Would you like to join him, Lord Piper?"

"N-no…" The man said, immediately finding his feet incredibly interesting.

"I thought not. House Agonstark currently holds Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan were captured at the Moat some four moons ago – they were sent hunting for Princess Elia, the Queen, and the Prince Viserys. They never would have found them and now they're sitting in a cell. They are no threat. Curiously enough though, House Whent is marching for House Targaryen while House Selmy has joined Lord Baratheon's host."

"But the Old Lion remains in Casterly Rock."

"Aye. Even with assurances that Jaime will not be harmed in any way, he refuses to rally for our cause."

"Why?"

"He wants Jaime back at the Rock."

"I see." Lord Tully sighed, frowning. "I vote you send him."

"He is Kingsguard, my Lord Tully."

"And a Lannister. He will obey Tywin."

"Over the orders of his King?" I snorted.

"You do not know the hold Tywin has on his son."

"Nor do you."

"Aye," Tully said, glowering at me lightly before he turned to his map. "Lord Connington has retreated toward the Blackwater Rush. It is likely he intends to bolster his forces with more men from the houses still loyal to the Mad King."

"Potentially." I nodded. "Or he'll run to King's Landing with his tail between his legs. I have scouts watching and reporting his every move back to my Captains."

"Very well. We will have to wait for these reports. My lords, I believe we can adjourn for the time being." The three lesser Riverlords nodded, ducking out of the tent as Hoster and I stood still for a moment more.

"Until later, Lord Tully."

"Aye, Lord Agonstark, until later." Tully said as I ducked out of the tent, shifting Winter's on my hip slightly as I stepped back out onto the field littered with the dead. I sighed, shaking my head at the loss of life.

To go from never losing a man against the Dothraki to losing five in a single fight was a sobering experience… But it could have been much, much worse for the Northern forces. The Westerosi were quite possibly the second best fighters in the world, second only to the Unsullied themselves. Yet the legions still tore through the Royalist forces. But now? Now it was time to regroup, recover, and lay the dead to rest. I nodded, walking to where the Legions had gathered.

"Lord Agonstark."

"Captain," I said, watching quietly as the men carried five bodies on each of the fallen's shields.

"They died well."

"Their families won't be glad to hear they died, well or not."

"Aye, that's the truth of it. Will you give last rites?"

"If the men ask me to."

"Very well." Captain Mormont said somberly, watching as the bodies were lowered onto the pyres the legionnaires had built for them. One man came forward with a torch, passing it to Captain Snow. The Dragon's Captain nodded, taking the torch as his eyes met mine. He nodded, and I returned it.

"Or not." I muttered to Captain Mormont as I stepped forward to Captain Snow and accepted the torch. I looked at the five pyres: three dragons and two sharks.

"Today, we have won a great battle. You men fought bravely," I said to the forty-five men surrounding the pyres – the fallen's squads. "And these men died defending the North, seeking justice. They will be remembered for their sacrifice and they will be honoured for it. Tonight, we eat and drink in their memory. I invite each and every one of you men, who fought as their brothers, to join me when I do." The men nodded somberly as I held the torch aloft. "I know we bury our dead, we return them to the land they loved so dearly… But here, in this dirt where they fought and died? They will not suffer that dishonour. For the fallen. For the North." I said as the forty-five slammed their fists against their breastplates. I dipped the torch down, touching the oil under the first pyre and repeating the process until I reached the last pyre and laid the torch underneath his.

Fire leaped to the sky from each pyre, flames licking at their bodies as plumes of smoke rose skyward.

"And now they rest." I said quietly, looking over the rest of the men who were watching the pyres as their comrades turned to ash.

Blackwater Rush Headwaters, Outside Stoney Sept…

Legionnaire's Camp…

"Five dead and eighteen wounded… How long before the wounded are back into fighting form?"

"We estimate the war will be over, sir."

"I see. Thank you."

"Of course, Lord Agonstark." The medic said as we stood outside the field hospital. "If you will excuse me?"

"Of course. Keep up the good work, Major."

"Pardon, my Lord, but I'm a Centurion."

"Not anymore, Major." I smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. His jaw dropped as he looked down at his uniform, with me having changed his stripes to match his new rank.

"Thank you, Lord Agonstark." He said, bowing his head before he ducked into the hospital tent. I sighed, shaking my head as I made my way back to the command post.

"Captains," I said as I entered the tent, glancing around between the thirty-five men inside. "Ah, Brigadiers, Tribunes… And Cursors. Welcome. What do we know?"

"Jon Connington had the misfortune of stumbling across Robert Baratheon's camp before he could reach the King's Road. He and his lords have been captured and are being marched, under guard, to Maidenpool. Ten thousand managed to escape."

"Weren't you the ones who told me he had twenty-five thousand?" I asked with a lifted eyebrow while the Cursor nodded.

"Aye. After the battle, most of Lord Connington's men deserted. Lord Baratheon could not capture all those remaining but he did capture over half the army. The escapees were last seen running toward the Kingsroad with nothing but what they had on their backs. But that's not all, my Lord." I raised my eyebrow as I gestured for him to go on. "After a sweep of Lord Connington's camp, there is no evidence of Wildfire. No precautions to transport it and no sign of the substance itself."

"That's good news but worrying all the same… We know he's been making it, we just don't know how much. Have we managed to get anyone into the Pyromancers?"

"No, my Lord."

"Damn… If we did, that would certainly make things easier. First Cursor Lupin hasn't managed to infiltrate them either?"

"No, my Lord. They have a series of code words before they are allowed entry to their workshops."

"And Teddy hasn't been able to lift these codes from any of their minds?"

"No, my Lord."

"Interesting… Where is the First Cursor now?"

"Casterly Rock, my Lord, posing as a travelling bard."

"Gods help those poor souls." I winced, knowing just how bad Teddy was at singing. "Very well. Ravens?"

"Word from the Antlers, my Lord. Lord Arryn and Lord Brandon have managed to take the Antlers bloodlessly and currently hold it as a fallback position. They make for the Sow's Horn now."

"What of Duskendale? Lord Rykker?"

"Aerys has ordered he and his men reinforce King's Landing. The city watch remained behind but Duskendale is no threat to us."

"But it's still a formidable city to take." I frowned, looking at the pieces on the map. "How long until Lord Baratheon and Prince Oberyn join with Lord Arryn?"

"Three days, my Lord."

"We should meet them in a week," I said, looking down at the map with a frown. "Very well, Cursor, you and your comrades are dismissed." The cursor nodded, bringing a fist to his chest before he and the four others turned and left the room.

"Bloody strange lot, they are."

"Aye, but they do good work," I said, still looking at the map. "The Rangers working with the Wargs report directly to them when they aren't harassing Targaryen lines. Odds are, the Rangers harried the Royalist supply lines so thoroughly that Lord Connington ran directly into Robert's army without even realising what had happened."

"Hah, it's likely, Lord Marshall." Captain Mormont chuckled as he looked at the map. "In a week we'll join with the rest of the army."

"In two, this will all likely be over." I'd barely managed to finish the sentence before the tent flap was flung open. I felt my eyebrow climb as Howland Reed himself burst inside – looking as harried as if someone were chasing him.

"My Lord! Riders from the West!" He panted as I felt my eyebrows climb again.

"Very well, tell the guards to admit them in and send them to me." I frowned as Howland bowed and ran to do as he was bid.

"Is he truly your squire, my Lord?" Captain Mormont snorted as I shook my head.

"Lord Tarlan asked I bring him with me to war, he never said he had to see the fighting."

"Aye, 'tis true, my Lord. He commands the crannogmen, then?"

"He does. Sneaky little bugger." I grunted as the Tribunes and Brigadiers chuckled at that. "Don't think I've forgotten you lot. This is a staff meeting and we're not quite done yet."

"Aye, sir!" The men said in unison while I rolled my eyes.

"Starting with the Dragon and moving to the Shark, begin your reports. After we see what these Western riders want."

"Forgive me, ser." One of the Tribunes said with a confused look on his face. "Don't we control the Westernmost part of the army?"

"That's why I'm letting the Riders come in so we can see what they have to say, Tribune Ashwood." The man nodded, his ears slightly red as I folded my hands behind my back to wait. Howland came through the tent a few minutes later, wearing a put upon face.

"My Lord Agonstark, Ser Kevan Lannister and Ser Erac Marbrand." He said, admitting a green-eyed blonde who was obviously the Lannister wearing the crimson cloak over his golden armour and a stocky blonde with blue eyes wearing a grey cloak with a… A burning bush emblazoned on the front of his armour.

"My Lords, welcome. I fear I can offer no refreshments on such short notice but I will have bread and salt here with all haste." I nodded, rounding the table with my hand extended to the Lannister. He shook it as I turned to Lord Marbrand and repeated the gesture. "I am Benjamin of House Agonstark, I am in command of this camp. These are my officers. I am afraid you caught us in the middle of a staff meeting."

"My apologies, Lord Agonstark, however it seems we have indeed caught you at a fortuitous time." Ser Kevan said, inclining his head. "I come on behalf of my brother, Tywin, to ask you release my nephew into my custody."

"I see. Very well. Have you heard what has happened here recently?"

"I have not, though we have seen the signs of great battle."

"Indeed. My host with the army of the Riverlands broke Lord Jon Connington's force outside of Stoney Sept. I sent irregular troops to harry and burn his supply lines until he ran into Lord Baratheon's force. I just received word that the Royalist army has broken and Lord Connington himself is a prisoner of Robert Baratheon. Lord Baratheon will meet with Lord Arryn in three days' time, and we will meet the combined host in a week."

"I–" Kevan gaped at that as I simply nodded.

"Indeed. But I regret to inform you that Jaime is not here, he is at Moat Cailin. It is three days' hard ride North." I said, taking a quill and two pieces of parchment as I set to writing, "Give this to the man at the gate, they will see to it that Jaime is given to you – and only you – even should the Raven I send them heralding your arrival be lost."

"Thank you, Lord Agonstark." Kevan bowed his head as he took the sealed parchment reverently. "Have you a Raven I can borrow? Tywin will be… Most pleased to hear of this."

"Of course, of course." I nodded as a man ducked inside the tent with a silver tray. "But before I send you on your way, please, take this." I took the silver tray from the servant and offered it to the Westerlands knights myself.

"My thanks," Kevan said, wolfing down the bread and salt quickly.

"And mine," Ser Marbrand said, not eating at quite the same pace as the Lannister but quickly all the same.

"It is my pleasure, sers."

"Forgive me, Lord Agonstark, but… But why are you setting Jaime free so… Pardon me, but freely?"

"This conflict will be over in a fortnight, sers," The knights' jaws both tightened at that as I nodded. "Your nephew is not a hostage, ser Kevan, I held him simply to ensure he would not be free to ravage my armies or return to Aerys to become only another puppet for the Mad King. This battle was the beginning of the end. He is now free to return to Casterly Rock – under guard or under your watch. I am sure that as Lord Tywin's brother, you will see to it that he returns. A lone rider will not be able to return to King's Landing from the Moat so swiftly with only a single horse."

"As his uncle, I shall see him returned to the Rock with all haste. Thank you, my Lord."

"Aye. Martin?"

"Aye, ser?" The man who brought the bread and salt asked as I turned to him.

"Take ser Kevan to the Cursor's tent, yes? He'll be needing a bird bound for Lord Tywin."

"It will be done, m'lord."

"Thank you." The servant nodded and beckoned to the Westerlands knights.

"If you will follow me, m'lords? I'll show you the way."

"My thanks." Ser Kevan nodded as he and Ser Marbrand followed Martin from the tent. I paused for a few moments, looking at each of my men in turn.

"Very well. You know your orders, let's get this over with." I said as the first Brigadier stepped forward, glancing at the tent flap once before he cleared his throat and began his report.