The morning mist clung to the Green Fork like a shroud.
On the southern bank the Lannister army was arrayed in battle order. It was a magnificent and terrifying sight. Twenty thousand men. The sun glinted off thousands of polished steel breastplates and crimson cloaks. A forest of lances pointed at the sky.
At the rear on a high hill sat Tywin Lannister.
The Old Lion sat on his warhorse motionless. His armor was covered in gold leaf. His cape was made of cloth of gold. He looked less like a man and more like a statue of judgment.
Beside him sat his brother Kevan Lannister.
"They are forming up," Kevan said peering through a spyglass. "Bolton has the center. Karstark on the left. But... what is that on the right flank?"
Tywin narrowed his green eyes.
He saw the Stark banners. But on the far right flank on a small rise overlooking the muddy field there was a strange formation. No banners. Just black uniforms. And strange dark shapes sitting on wheels.
"It looks like siege equipment," Kevan noted. "Foolish. Why bring siege engines to a field battle? They will be overrun by our cavalry in minutes."
Tywin did not answer. He was calculating.
He had placed his wildest men in the vanguard. The Mountain, Gregor Clegane, led the left. The tribesmen of the Vale led by his son Tyrion were on the left as well. Tywin intended for the vanguard to break the Northern line quickly.
"Sound the advance," Tywin said his voice flat and emotionless. "Send Ser Gregor. Crush their left. Roll up their line."
A war horn blew. A deep mournful sound.
On the Northern side the mood was tense.
The men knew they were outnumbered. They knew this was a distraction. Their job was to die slowly so Robb Stark could capture Jaime at Riverrun.
But Andar Stark had a different plan.
He stood by his battery of ten 6 pounders. The guns were unlimbered and aimed down the gentle slope. The gunners stood ready holding their linstocks with burning matches.
"Major Jory," Andar said calmly. "Do you see the big man? The one who looks like a castle riding a horse?"
Jory squinted. Even from six hundred yards away the Mountain was impossible to miss. He was nearly eight feet tall riding a horse that looked like a monster.
"I see him My Lord. Ser Gregor Clegane."
"He is coming for us," Andar said. "He thinks we are the weak link. He thinks we are just archers."
The ground began to tremble.
The Lannister vanguard began to move. Slowly at first then picking up speed. It was a tide of steel and horseflesh.
"Trot!" The command echoed across the field.
Two thousand heavy cavalry knights lowered their lances.
"Canter!"
The earth shook. The noise was like a continuous roll of thunder.
"Gallop!"
The charge began in earnest. The Mountain roared a sound of pure rage. He was leading the charge straight at Andar's position. He wanted to crush the strange black soldiers under his hooves.
The Northern infantry in the center flinched. Many of the levies dropped their spears and looked ready to run.
"Steady!" Roose Bolton shouted from the rear though his own eyes were calculating an exit strategy.
Andar watched the charge.
Five hundred yards. Four hundred yards.
"Load canister," Andar ordered.
The gunners shoved the tin cans filled with musket balls down the muzzles.
Three hundred yards.
The Lannister knights were screaming. They were confident. They saw no pikes in front of them. Just men standing by wagons. It would be a slaughter.
Two hundred yards.
"Wait," Andar held up his hand.
He wanted them closer. He wanted them so close they could see the burning matches.
One hundred and fifty yards.
The Mountain was so close Andar could see the saliva flying from his horse's mouth.
"Fire!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The ten guns erupted in a ripple of fire.
The effect was instantaneous and horrific.
The laws of chivalry died in that split second.
Two thousand musket balls swept the field at chest height.
The front rank of the Lannister cavalry simply disintegrated.
Horses were turned into hamburger meat. Knights in heavy plate armor were punched backward out of their saddles as if hit by invisible giant fists.
The Mountain's horse took the brunt of the volley. The massive beast exploded in a spray of gore toppled by a dozen impacts.
Gregor Clegane was thrown forward. He hit the mud with the force of a falling boulder. He rolled his armor dented and torn his helmet ringing like a bell.
Behind him the charge collapsed into chaos.
Horses tripped over the dead. Knights crashed into each other. The momentum was gone instantly replaced by a screaming tangle of metal and flesh.
"Reload!" Andar shouted. "Solid shot! Target the rear ranks!"
The gunners moved with machine precision. Sponge. Load. Ram. Prime.
Twenty seconds.
"Fire!"
BOOM!
This time solid iron balls skipped across the ground. They plowed through the confused mass of cavalry like bowling balls through pins. One ball could kill three horses and three men before stopping.
The Lannister vanguard broke.
They did not retreat. They fled. The survivors turned their horses around trampling their own infantry in a desperate attempt to escape the thunder.
On the hill Tywin Lannister gripped the reins of his horse so tight his leather gloves creaked.
He had seen battles. He had seen slaughter. But he had never seen a heavy cavalry charge stopped cold in ten seconds.
"What..." Kevan Lannister stammered. "What is that weapon? Is it wildfire?"
"No," Tywin said. His face was pale. "It is something else."
He watched the smoke drifting from the Northern flank. He saw the black coats reloading.
"They are preparing to fire again," Tywin realized.
He looked at his center. His infantry was wavering. They had seen the invincible Mountain fall. They had seen the vanguard erased. Panic was spreading.
"Sound the retreat," Tywin ordered.
"Retreat?" Kevan looked at him in shock. "But Tywin we have twenty thousand men! We can still flank them!"
"We do not know what that weapon is," Tywin hissed. "And I will not feed my army into a meat grinder until I do. Sound the retreat! Orderly withdrawal to Harrenhal!"
The horn blew.
The retreat was sounded.
The Lannister army the most disciplined force in Westeros turned and marched away. They left three thousand dead on the field.
Most of them were the flower of the Westerlands nobility.
Down on the field Andar walked among the carnage.
The smell was terrible. Burnt powder. Blood. Bowels.
The Northern soldiers were coming out of their lines. They walked slowly staring at the destruction. They looked at Andar with fear.
"My Lord!"
Jory called out from a pile of dead horses.
"We found him! He is alive!"
Andar walked over.
Gregor Clegane was lying in the mud. He was pinned under the carcass of his horse. His leg was twisted at a sickening angle. His armor was peppered with dents and his helmet had been knocked off.
The Mountain was groaning. He tried to reach for his massive sword but his arm was broken.
He looked up at Andar. His eyes were full of hate and confusion.
"You..." Gregor spat blood. "You fight without honor."
Andar looked down at the monster who had raped and murdered Elia Martell. The monster who had burned his brother's face.
"Honor is for the dead Ser Gregor," Andar said.
He pulled his pistol from his belt.
"And you are overdue."
"No!" A voice shouted.
It was Roose Bolton. The Lord of the Dreadfort rode up quickly.
"Stop Lord Andar! Do not kill him!"
Andar kept the pistol aimed at Gregor's head. "Give me one reason why I should let this rabid dog live."
"He is a valuable prisoner," Roose said his pale eyes gleaming. "Tywin Lannister prizes him above all others. If we hold him we hold leverage. Killing him gives us nothing but a corpse."
Andar thought for a moment.
He looked at the Mountain. He looked at Roose.
Alive the Mountain was a bargaining chip. Dead he was just rotting meat.
Andar lowered the pistol.
"Fine," Andar said. "Chain him. Use the anchor chains from the heavy wagons. And if he tries to move shoot him in the other leg."
He turned to look at the retreating Lannister army.
"We did not just distract them," Andar said softly. "We broke their teeth."
[Quest Complete: The Battle of the Green Fork]
[Result: Strategic Victory]
[Enemy Commander: Tywin Lannister (Retreated)]
[Legendary Prisoner Captured: The Mountain]
[Fame Gained: The Black Sorcerer]
Andar holstered his weapon.
"Pack up the guns," Andar ordered. "We march to Riverrun. It is time to close the trap."
....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!