Chapter 101: Setbacks and the Camp Routine
Oil barrels smashed down around the siege engine, ignited by either a fuse or a fire arrow. Great plumes of flame erupted instantly, completely enveloping the head of the ram. Soldiers splashed by the burning oil shrieked as they bolted from the protection of the shields and timber. The lucky ones managed to roll on the ground to extinguish the flames before retreating back under the cover of the ram; the unlucky ones were struck down by the defenders' stones and arrows the moment they exposed themselves—and those defenders, in turn, were picked off by a thousand archers waiting in formation a hundred meters away.
Every second, men were wounded; every minute, they died.
THOOM— THOOM—
The front of the ram was entirely wreathed in fire, but a layer of special water-soaked hide covering the chassis delayed the spread of the flames. This allowed the soldiers at the rear to continue their coordinated heaving, desperate to squeeze out a few more attempts. However, as more oil barrels rained down, it was clear this engine would soon be scrap.
Egger didn't want to watch any longer. Today's assault would likely end with the destruction of that ram. So far, the combined casualties might have barely reached triple digits—a mere drop in the bucket compared to a total force of over one hundred thousand. A casualty rate of one-thousandth was statistically insignificant, but the soldiers currently trapped in the blood and fire before the gate would certainly disagree.
The narrowness of the battlefield dictated the scale of the fight and ensured that casualties couldn't skyrocket quickly. Yet, the intensity of the struggle within that tiny space beneath the gate and upon the battlements was no less fierce than any great bloodbath in history. Every man is the center of his own world; how could one ignore these soldiers fighting for their lives as a mere 1 in the number 100,000?
In the eyes of a child, war is a distant story; to a youth, it is supreme glory; but Egger was an adult. Standing on the battlefield, hearing the groans and screams of the wounded, he felt for the first time with piercing clarity: war was truly no game.
...
Egger hadn't caused this war, but he was certainly entangled in it. He turned to leave the front and return to camp, but just then, an ear-splitting roar of cheers and applause erupted around him, shaking the very earth. Egger spun around in shock and immediately saw the cause: the head of that ram, though shrouded in raging flames, had actually smashed through the outer doors of the Bloody Gate and was wedged deep into the portal!
What? It broke already?
Was Robert's fire suppression tactic with arrows and stones simply that advanced, or had every other army that attempted this pass over the last thousand years been that incompetent?
Accompanied by the thunderous cheering, a contingent of cavalry wearing Baratheon colors charged out of the formation, riding straight for the breached gate. If they could hold the gains and prevent the defenders from resealing the entrance, this unbreakable pass would be conquered by the Great King Robert!
But faster than the cavalry were the soldiers surrounding the ram. Before the fire could completely consume the machine, they pushed it away from the shattered entrance and were the first to rush into the tunnel.
Who wouldn't want to claim the glory of the breach? If successful, a man could be knighted, leaping into the nobility and shielding his descendants for generations!
It felt too easy. After all that preparation, it was over in a single bout? What happened to one man holding back ten thousand? What happened to the unbreakable pass of the ages? Egger felt a bit of a slap to the face, but mostly he felt relief. No matter what, ending a war early with fewer casualties was never a bad thing.
However, just as everyone was processing the irony of this month-long buildup ending in a half-day farce, the situation reversed. The allied soldiers who had charged into the gatehouse came running back out less than ten seconds later. Braving the defenders' relentless stones and arrows, they screamed something as they fled toward the allied lines, suffering heavy casualties along the way and even driving back the Crownlands cavalry.
The offensive had stalled. The archers providing cover fire were soon ordered to withdraw, and the catapult barrage ceased as the siege equipment was pulled back beyond the range of the enemy's weapons. Aside from the ram still burning fiercely beneath the gate, this first wave was over. The words of the survivors quickly reached Egger's ears:
The defenders had completely sealed the gate with earth and stone!
This was a true drawing the firewood from under the cauldron move. After the first wave was repelled, a second could not be organized. It seemed this news had stunned Robert and the military command. Until a new strategy was devised, Egger guessed there would be no more fighting.
...
After this brief series of twists, things finally seemed normal; the Bloody Gate was indeed not so easily taken. Egger turned away from the front and walked toward his small tent deep within the allied camp.
To call it a camp was an understatement; it was more like a city made of tents—and in terms of population density, one of the largest cities in all of Westeros. The only difference was that most residents were soldiers and nobles.
To keep so many people comfortable, merchants had followed the army and set up shop in the neutral zone between the six great camps. These businessmen provided everything you could imagine and anything money could buy: inns, restaurants, brothels, bathhouses... though it looked like a cluster of tents, its functions were complete. It was as if the commercial streets of King's Landing had been moved to the mouth of the Vale and stuffed into tents, albeit with slightly worse service and adjusted prices.
Ordinarily, a military command would never tolerate a camp becoming so homely, but the reality was that the main rebel force was corked inside the Vale, and all the lands and castles of the families involved in the uprising were already under loyalist control. Combined with the fact that the warrior-king's sentries and scouts never relaxed, there was zero chance of a counterattack. Unless an internal mutiny occurred, this camp was unassailable.
Maybe I should set up a temporary Night's Watch office here to join the fun?
The Chief Logistics Officer considered this seriously, but his attention was soon caught by a crowd ahead. A tent was swarmed by soldiers from all six kingdoms wearing various house colors. They were rowdy, seemingly fighting over some commodity being sold by the tent's owner.
Egger grew curious, but as a man of status with subordinates, he could afford to be lazy: "Casey, go see what they're scrambling for over there."
The boy ran off, slipping through the crowd like a loach, and emerged half a minute later. He ran back to Egger with an expression that was both excited and strange: "My lord, it's books! The books we printed!"
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