Border of the Triarchy Alliance — Hess
The wind carried sand and gravel like a thousand tiny blades, stinging Craghas’ face as he crouched behind a jagged outcrop along the western ridge.
The stone beneath his fingertips was cold and damp, rough with patches of ancient moss.
Below him lay the narrow mountain pass—a cramped corridor hemmed in by sheer cliffs.
Twisted pines clung stubbornly to cracks in the rock, their branches groaning mournfully as the wind swept through them.
“The Volantene vanguard has entered the pass.”
Prando’s voice was barely above a whisper, though the tension in it was impossible to hide.
His hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white.
“Just as you predicted.
They’re too busy gathering the valuables we’ve scattered along the road.
They haven’t even bothered sending scouts.”
Craghas carefully leaned forward, peering through the gaps between the pine branches.
Morning sunlight filtered through the mountain mist, casting broken patches of light across the stone roadway below.
A squad of Volantene soldiers had already dismounted, crouching to collect silver coins scattered across the ground.
Exactly as planned.
Every single coin had been left there by his own orders.
The soldiers laughed greedily as they shoved one another aside, scrambling for the glittering bait.
His gaze moved beyond them toward the advancing Black Wall chariots.
Powerful warhorses pulled the heavy vehicles, their iron-rimmed wheels fitted with vicious spikes that thundered across the stone road.
Each chariot carried three warriors.
One held the reins.
One stood ready with an enormous spear nearly twice a man’s height, its steel tip flashing beneath the sun.
The third carried a short bow, a quiver full of arrows hanging across his back.
“Wait.”
Craghas spoke quietly.
“Let them come deeper.”
Cold sweat dampened his palms.
Everything depended on timing.
The attack had to begin only after the Volantene chariots were completely trapped inside the pass.
Beside him, rows of Myrish crossbowmen waited silently.
Their weapons were already loaded.
Each bolt had been coated with poison.
Even the slightest scratch would rob a man of his strength within moments.
Suddenly…
The wind shifted.
Carried upon it came the distant voices of the Volantenes.
At the front of the column, the chariot commander abruptly raised his hand.
The army halted.
Craghas’ heart leaped into his throat.
His grip tightened around his sword.
Then—
One of the soldiers triumphantly raised a gilded wine goblet he’d discovered inside a wooden crate.
He shouted excitedly toward the commander.
Others immediately followed, waving handfuls of silver, jewelry, and plunder while cheering wildly.
The commander’s brief suspicion vanished beneath the flood of celebration.
With an impatient wave of his hand, he ordered the column forward once more.
Craghas rose in one smooth motion.
“Now!”
His sword slashed downward.
Thousands of Myrish crossbows answered instantly.
The sky darkened.
Bolts poured down like a storm of iron rain, screaming through the mountain air.
The Volantenes had no time to react.
Men collapsed where they stood.
Screams erupted from every direction.
Those clutching stolen treasure were struck first.
Crossbow bolts punched effortlessly through armor.
Blood sprayed across polished helmets…
Across golden goblets…
Across the silver coins they had died trying to steal. Get faster updates on g.com.
The Volantene commander roared furious orders.
Drivers lashed their horses mercilessly, attempting to force the chariots through the bottleneck.
But the pass was too narrow.
The vehicles jammed together wheel-to-wheel, trapping one another in a hopeless knot.
That was the moment the Bright Pike Company descended.
The Tyroshi spearmen surged down from both ridges.
Their pikes crashed into the trapped horses first.
Panicked animals reared violently, throwing soldiers from the chariots before collapsing beneath forests of thrusting spears.
The mountain echoed with desperate screams.
Craghas drew his sword.
“Forward!”
Leading the heavy infantry himself, he charged directly into the choking confusion.
His first swing severed a Volantene soldier’s arm.
Warm blood splashed across his face.
Another chariot commander forced his way toward him, saber raised high.
Steel slammed against steel.
The impact numbed Craghas’ entire arm.
The man was incredibly strong.
But strength alone wasn’t enough.
Twisting sideways, Craghas narrowly avoided the next slash before driving his sword deep into the commander’s stomach.
The officer stared downward in disbelief.
Then collapsed.
The battle descended into complete chaos.
The Weeping Guard advanced as an unbreakable wall of shields, cutting methodically through the trapped Volantenes.
But Craghas knew they couldn’t afford a prolonged engagement.
The Unsullied could arrive at any moment.
He raised a war horn to his lips.
Its deep blast echoed across the mountains.
At the far end of the pass, hidden soldiers shoved enormous timber logs from prepared positions.
The massive trunks thundered downhill.
One after another.
They crashed across the exit, sealing the mountain pass completely.
Now…
The Volantenes were trapped.
Their famed chariots had become useless prisons.
Separated.
Surrounded.
Destroyed piece by piece.
The trapped soldiers retreated step by desperate step beneath relentless attacks.
Their screams blended with the clash of steel until the entire valley seemed alive with death itself.
Almost finished…
Craghas thought.
We’ve nearly wiped them out.
Then—
A new sound drifted across the battlefield.
Perfectly synchronized footsteps.
The rhythmic scrape of thousands of armored feet.
He looked toward the horizon.
A black formation had appeared.
“Unsullied!”
Someone shouted.
“Damn them…”
Craghas spat blood onto the ground.
The disciplined ranks advanced without hesitation.
Expressionless faces.
Long spears pointed forward like the fangs of some enormous beast.
The remaining Volantenes erupted into renewed cheers.
Hope returned to their eyes as they desperately fought back against the Tyroshi pikes.
Craghas shouted.
The Bright Pike Company immediately shifted formation, standing shoulder to shoulder beside the Weeping Guard.
Behind them, the Myrish crossbowmen calmly reloaded.
The Unsullied marched into range.
“Fire!”
Another storm of bolts flew.
The Unsullied answered by raising their shields in perfect unison.
An impenetrable wall of bronze.
Most of the bolts shattered harmlessly against it.
Step by step…
They continued advancing.
Whenever one warrior fell, another instantly filled the gap.
Their formation never wavered.
Craghas knew a frontal battle would bleed his army dry.
He turned toward Prando.
“Get those damned Westerosi sellsword knights moving!”
“Take half the men!”
“Circle around their flank!”
“Hit them from behind!”
Prando nodded once before wheeling his horse around and galloping toward the rear.
Meanwhile, Craghas personally led the main force forward.
His sword cut down the first Unsullied who reached their line.
The eunuch soldiers did not hesitate.
They simply advanced.
Their spears struck like an endless forest of steel.
The Tyroshi pikemen struggled desperately to hold.
The battle became a brutal contest of endurance.
Then…
The thunder of galloping horses echoed across the valley.
The Westerosi mercenary knights had arrived.
Craghas saw it immediately.
The Unsullied formation faltered.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Within their ranks, the Volantene commander finally showed fear.
Prando’s light infantry had successfully circled behind the enemy and launched their assault.
The Unsullied formation began to unravel.
Craghas seized the moment.
“Advance!”
The order rang across the battlefield.
Alliance soldiers surged forward with renewed fury.
Caught between attacks from both front and rear, the Unsullied could no longer maintain their legendary discipline.
Westerosi knights rode dangerously close to the formation, firing hand crossbows with deadly precision.
Others thrust long lances directly into the wavering shield wall.
The Unsullied began falling in alarming numbers.
At last…
Their commander broke.
“Retreat!”
His desperate cry echoed across the blood-soaked valley as a handful of cavalry escorted him from the battlefield.
The earth of Hess had turned crimson.
The Volantene vanguard had been almost completely annihilated.
Black Wall chariots burned fiercely across the battlefield.
Bodies of Unsullied lay scattered throughout the pass.
Blood flowed between the stone slabs, gathering into a dark red stream.
Standing atop a mound of corpses, Craghas looked toward the distant horizon.
Then…
He tightened his grip on his sword.