The Game of Cyvasse

The Bells

Outlines of the port city were visible from afar. The town surrounded by pink walls, Maidenpool, belonged to the cities that would, in Westeros, overshadow all but the four largest and truest cities. Northern road led through a fishing village, one of many, that stretched along the coast near Maidenpool.

Soldiers of the Golden Company marched with discipline and in parallel to twelve galleys, which sailed along the coast of the Bay of Crabs. Jon's eye caught the largest galley, Turquoise Sword, which led the line of ships. The village was deserted, like many along the way, smallfolk fled before the army. However, the strict discipline that Jon enforced guaranteed a clean campaign as much as possible.

Three and a half thousand Crabb men he had put under the command of Ser Tristan Rivers. The bastard reluctantly accepted the task, frowning at Jon in the face, "What am I supposed to do with this rabble? I'm used to slaughtering such, not ordering them. Half of them are more wild than untrained elephants." He cursed at the new recruits, scolded but also did what Jon knew he would do. Make a fighting men out of crabs. Serjants Chain and Mudd trained those less skilled, but made modest progress.

Vanguard, under the command of Laswell Peak, positioned itself on the field in front of the walls, out of range of arrows. The red salmon fluttered on the walls, where numerous figures stood ready.

"True, the lord is preparing for defense, but not of the city," giggled Lysono Maar in Jon's tent, the night before they left for the march. "Only his castle."

William Mooton was soft and weak, everything opposite of his brother Myles. For a while, Jon was jealous of Myles, but Jon was jealous of anyone who would distract Rhaegar's attention. Myles's death is on your soul, Jon reproached himself. The bells rang loudly. He still has a headache from the damned bells. "How many men did he send to Tully's?", Jon asked spymaster.

Cross-legged, spymaster played with strands of his blonde hair, while shadows of flames danced on his powdered face. "Non, it seems that our lord is mortally afraid of Lannister. As I said, he is fortifying the city and is fortifying his castle three times more," Lysono replied in a soft feminine voice. A voice that tore Jon's ears. The company was more than capable of taking the city. Maidenpool will be a perfect base of operations and a safer defensive position in case of Lannister attack.

Bells are tolling. Captain Otreys's cavalry has severed the approach to the city from the west. The infantry stands in formation before the walls, gazes crossing over the flat green field. The golden hue has turned to green, looming over which is the pink wall. In his thoughts, Jon searched another city, with Myles Mooton by his side. Myles, one of the six.

Commanders stood beside the King - Homeless Harry, Marq Mandrake with a tarnished face, Laswell Peake, eternal exile, and Ser Tristan Rivers, always wearing a furious expression. Peake was the first to speak, "The gates won't be hard to break." He turned to Mandrake, "You head to the docks, my men will move towards the castle." Mandrake only remained silent, pondering the imported goods he could plunder.

Dread seized Jon as he walked the streets of another city, searching for a traitor. Myles found him first and paid for it, becoming one of the six struck by the usurper's hammer. Now, he only stood silently, gazing at the pink walls. The golden company's catapults stood at the rear behind the infantry ranks, while Balaq's archers impatiently awaited the start of the attack, between the artillery and infantry. A gentle autumn breeze swayed the banners, and the bells pounded in Jon Connington's mind. Once again, he clashed swords with the Darling of the Vale and triumphed. A hollow victory, meaningless, for the usurper survived, and Jon's army was vanquished. When the madman drove him into exile, Jon felt partly relieved, not having to look Rhaegar in the eyes and reveal the magnitude of his defeat. The royal army was destroyed... due to his own vanity. Through victory, he could have secured Rhaegar's throne, through victory... his prince would still be alive. Jon looked at the boy; he would not fail Rhaegar again. Never again.