Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Siege of Stilwood Part 2
...
Third POV

The southern walls of Stilwood Keep were alive with chaos.

Archers loosed volley after volley, their arrows cutting through the air to strike down Nemean soldiers attempting to scale the walls.

Ladders thudded against stone, but few invaders made it far.

Hot oil cascaded down, searing flesh and forcing screams from the men below.

Large stone fell, smashing at shields and bone, sending climbers plummeting to their deaths.

The Stilwood wall was a maelstrom of violence, and for every Nemean that reached the top, four more were cast down.

In less than half an hour, close to twenty Nemean soldiers had died or suffered severely, their bodies laying at the foot of the walls.

On the walls above, Stilwood defenders shouted in triumph, their morale soaring as their losses remained minimal.

Jamond, leader of Stilwood garrison, allowed himself a moment of hope. He stood atop the central tower, surveying the battlefield.

"Hold fast, men!" he bellowed. "They'll break soon enough. Show them what it means to defend your home!"

But down below, among the Nemean ranks, there was no retreat.

Centurion Dalton, his face grim beneath the wolfskin draped over his helm, stared down at the lifeless bodies of his men.

A seething fury churned within him, fueled by a deep, gnawing guilt.

These were his soldiers, his brothers, and he could no longer bear to watch them fall.

"Move aside," Dalton growled, shoving a soldier back from the ladder.

"Centurion Dalton, wait!" the soldier protested.

Dalton shot him a glare that brooked no argument.

With his shield strapped to one arm and his other gripping the ladder, Dalton began to climb.

Arrows whistled past, and rocks slammed into the rungs, shaking the structure.

His shield absorbed a heavy impact, nearly wrenching him free, but Dalton held on.

Halfway up, he glanced above and saw a Stilwood defender tumble from the wall, an arrow lodged clean through his head.

Blood sprayed as the body hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Dalton's heart pounded. Immediately one thing came to his mind. Lord Galahad is inside, he's breached their defenses.

He redoubled his efforts, climbing faster despite the hail of projectiles.

When he reached the top, he surged over the wall parapet, shield raised just in time to block a downward sword stroke.

The impact rattled his arm, but he thrust forward with his short sword, the blade punching through the throat of the Stilwood defender.

Blood spurted, and the man collapsed in a gurgling heap.

Dalton had no time to catch his breath. A second defender appeared, hefting a pot of boiling oil.

Dalton raised his shield, but the searing liquid splashed over the edge, coating his right arm.

Pain lanced through him, the heat biting deep into flesh.

"Seven hells!" he roared, the agony almost making him drop his sword. But his adrenaline continued to surge, and with a snarl, he lashed out.

His blade severed the man's neck, sending his head tumbling.