KnightofTempest
patreon
RM: Chapter 111
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 06:51:55 +0000 UTCIronmonger's Corner was a small town, rather than a large village. It even was bordering on becoming a moderate-sized town, though it hadn't been given a town charter, owing to the Riverlands' notable reticence to grant such things. The Riverlords almost never granted charters to their towns, preferring direct feudal oversight so the Smallfolk didn't get any ideas. For Ironmonger's Corner, though, the main thing driving growth was the Iron Industry. Situated close enough to a cluster of iron-rich hills, and with a nearby bog that likewise had a number of bog iron deposits, Ironmonger's Corner was a center of ironworking. There was a massive bloomery in the center of town that Lord Mooton's grandfather had built and which Lord Mooton modernized, using triphammers powered by waterwheels in the nearby river to produce more ironwork.
The wealth this had brought allowed Ironmonger's Corner to fortify itself with proper stone walls. A octet of squat, short, one-room stone, towers enhanced the walls, two flanking each gate into the Town with a gatehouse between them, ensuring entry into the town was properly defended. In the center of Town, a single, three-storey, tower house rose near the bloomery, commanding the sight lines across the town so that crossbowmen, archers, and now musketeers, could pick off attackers more easily. It was here than Ser Harlan Hunter had decided to make his stand for a reason. Ironmonger's Corner was, effectively, the Armory of House Mooton. We had to attack it to weaken Maidenpool, and Ser Harlan knew that. He and his six-thousand men were well dug-in and it would be up to us to get them out.
We had spent the past day or so since the Ambush at the Maidenpool Road setting up siege lines and preparing to bombard the stout stone walls of Ironmonger's Corner. I had spent hours planning, gathering attack forces together, and trying to ensure that when I did put my plan into action, it would go as smoothly as possible. Now it was time to begin putting that plan into action. We would start, of course, with the artillery, as I turned to Ser Harry Ruskyn and nodded at the more logistically-minded Lord. He nodded back at me, as if sensing what I was going to command, but I still said it to him anyway. It was easier to have a clear chain of orders this way, after all.
"Ser Harry, your artillery may fire when ready." I commanded.
"Of course, My Lord." Agreed Ser Harry Ruskyn.
As the guns opened up, and I looked through my spyglass, however, something happened that I hadn't expected. A tarp had come off the nearest set of towers to my position to reveal four six-pounders in the towers. Looking around, the other gate towers also revealed six-pounders. There weren't many of them, mind you, but they definitely indicated an upgrade of the Vale's capabilities with artillery. Or perhaps it was better to say it revealed an upgrade of Baelish's capabilities with artillery? That was probably more accurate than talking about the Vale ad a whole, anyway. As an artillery duel started to, I couldn't help but wonder just where Baelish had managed to get Six-Pounder technology from.
I would only find out the answer to that question upon seizing the tower house. For now, however, our main goal had to be to silence those defensive guns. I frowned as I watched a cannonball ricochet into and around one of Ser Harry Ruskyn's artillery batteries, splattering the artillerymen inside and turning some of our own guns into so much wreckage. That particular enemy gun was silenced a few moments later, but the damage had been done. Fortunately, it seemed that each Lord of the Vale had drilled his artillerymen differently, and while some drilled for accuracy, most drilled for rate of fire. Most of the enemy shots weren't accurate enough to do the same, though they certainly put enough cannonballs in the air to suppress sone of our batteries.
Because of that, night fell on the second day of the Siege of Ironmonger's Corner with the enemy guns suppressed, but the walls still in good condition. It would take the rest of the night and into the morning to finally begin making breaches in the stout walls of Ironmonger's Corner. When we finally had the four breaches I had wanted before attacking, it was around three hours or so after noon. As I gave the order for the attack parties to form up, I realized that this battle might turn into a night battle if we weren't careful. A night battle in an urban area would be chaotic, bloody, and Best avoided. I could only hope it wouldn't go that way. Not for myself, nor any of the other attackers under Ser Andar Royce, Ser Roger Groves, or Ser Raymun Darry.
That had been something of a testy subject. Both Ser Denys Irons and Lord Mors Marshberry had wanted to lead attacking forces, but as good relations with our allies were paramount for our continued success, I had to give Ser Andar and Ser Raymun command of attack parties. They had complained, of course, but with only four breaches, it was simply impossible to accommodate everyone. However, I knew the magic words that would make them back down, which I used without any hesitation whatsoever.
"This is just the first course. The main course is at Maidenpool, and I promise you that we'll have a place for you to attack then." I vowed.
"You'd better." Huffed Ser Denys Irons.
"Aye, I mislike being sat here on my arse doing nothing while Ser Spruce and Ruddy Raymun take all the glory." Scowled Lord Mors Marshberry.
"I hate that nickname." Sighed Ser Andar Royce.
"Cheer up, Ser Spruce. At least it's not Ruddy Raymun." Chuckled Ser Raymun Darry.
"Indeed, however, perhaps we ought to take our places? No sense giving the enemy time to brace themselves or prepare even further, after all." Remarked Ser Roger Groves.
"Ser Roger is correct. Everyone get to your assigned attack parties. This siege ends tonight, one way or another." I intoned.
And with that, everyone headed out to their designated attack parties. I headed out with my helm tucked under my arm to join Ser Bryen Farring at the head of my own designated attack party opposite the Hill Gate, which led out to a dirt track that wound up the hills south of Ironmonger's Corner toward the Iron Mines. Ser Bryen nodded at me as I approached, which I returned with a slight grin.
"My Lord, Nice of you to join us." Japed Ser Bryen Farring.
"Aye, Ser Bryen. Lovely evening for an assault, eh?" I jested back.
"If you say so, My Lord." Nodded Ser Bryen Farring.
And with that, I put my helm on, fastening it tight, before drawing my Valyrian Steel Blade and pointing it at the beach near the Hill Gate. It was slightly off to the right of the right gate tower, ensuring we wouldn't take fire from the murder holes to try and enter the town of Ironmonger's Corner. I raised my voice as I pointed my blade at the breach and addressed the men.
"All right you lot! Time to take this Town! Once we're done here, it's on to Maidenpool and with it, the whole of the Riverlands will be in King Stannis' hands! With our fleet in full control of the Bay of Crabs, and the Vale's Army depleted, we can move to unseat Baelish easily! Peace is in our grasp, lads, and the first step toward it is right here! Now, I'm headed into that breach! Who's coming with me?" I called out.
A roaring cheer went up from my men at that and the fire and drums began to play, the sounds of the British Grenadiers echoing through the evening air as we advanced toward the breach. Arrows, musketballs, and crossbow bolts fell around us from the walls but our own musketeers fired volleys in answer. Still, men died, and my own armor took a hit from a musketball to the pauldron, causing me to fall to the ground. Fortunately, my armor was proofed against musketry and I picked myself back up. Others weren't so lucky as they were scythes down by the incoming fire. However, after a few minutes, we were able to make it to the breach, our own musketeers suppressing the enemy.
There was a block of Vale Troops guarding the breach and as we closed, I pulled a pistol off my brace and fired it into one of the Vale troops, punching through mail and leaving a bloody hoke coring through his chest. I put my pistol back on my brace of pistols as I charged, Ser Bryen and mt men behind me. My Valyrian Steel Blade took the head off the next man to come at me with a horizontal tondo cut, even as I parried a descending cut from the bastard sword of a Vale Knight wearing the Burning Tower of Grafton emblazoned on his surcoat. As I parried, sending his blade out wide, I kicked out with my leg, slamming my boot into the side of his front knee even as I pulled my fighting dagger and thrust it up under the lip of his helm, punching into his chin from below and up into his brain, killing him.
Next to me, Ser Bryen was standing over a pair of dead Valesmen, his twin short blades slick with gore, even as he parried the falling axe of a Mountain Clansmen crossing his short blades to catch the descending axe on the haft just under the head. The kick to the bollocks that arced up under the Mountain Clansman's padded leather fauld may not have been the most chivalrous, but I couldn't deny it's effectiveness in giving Ser Bryen the opportunity to cut the Mountain Clansman's Throat. I turned in time to see a Vale Spearman charge for me after downing one of my men. His rushing thrust was sidestepped ad I grabbed hold of his spear with my off-hand and pulled him into a rising stocatta thrust of my Blade, the Valyrian Steel punching through mail and gutting him. Meanwhile, Ser Bryen cleaved the leg off another Mountain Clansnman with a double cut of his blades even as he ducked a hammer swing.
We must have fought like that for twenty minutes, but eventually, our attack party, with Ser Nryen and I at its head, managed to cut its way through the forces blocking the breach and push into the town of Ironmonger's Corner. Moments later, we came under fire from archers in the tower house in the center of town. Fortunately, they missed more than they hit, this being the extreme edge of their range, even with the height advantage. The choice of next target however, was obvious. We would attack the tower and leave the other attack parties to mop up in the Town.
It would be there where we uncovered just how, exactly, we Baelish had gotten Six-Pounder Cannon Technology. As we made our way up the tower, fighting guards who were mostly either Mountain Clansmen or in Grafton Heraldry, it soon became apparent that Ser Harlan Hunter wasn't here, nor were his men. It was as we made it to the top of the tower just as the sun set that the truth revealed itself. Ser Harlan Hunter had taken his personal troops and withdrawn, leaving the defense of Ironmonger's Corner to Lord Gerold Grafton of Gulltown. Lord Grafton, clad in Plate Armor, held the top floor of the Tower House, along with fifty men in Grafton Heraldry and a Pentoshi Mercenary.
"A Pentoshi, I had wondered where Baelish had gotten my Six-Pounder technology from. It seems the Sealord is not as cautious when it comes to who in Pentos he allows to purchase the technology." I mused.
"Those cannons were forged in the Arsenal of Braavos, oer your agreement, the Sealord had them sent to the Prince's Guard in Pentos." Responded Lord Grafton.
"Then how did they wind up here?" I questioned.
"A number of Braavosi Six and Eight-Pounder Guns slated for the Militia of Pentos went missing recentlt. My master says that this is courtesy of Lord Varys." Smirked the Pentoshi.
"Your master? You're not a Mercenary?" I queried.
"I am an Indentured Soldier of my Master, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos." Intoned the Pentoshi.
"A slave soldier, you mean. In violation of the peace treaty with Braavos." I scoffed.
"Does it matter at this point, My Lord?" Asked Ser Bryen Farring.
"It does not. Even should you take me captive, my son Ser Gaherys is already working out the secrets of their production back in Gulltown and my heir Ser Marq will not surrender for my sake." Cut in Lord Gerold Grafton.
"That being so, there's really nothing to prevent you from surrendering, then." I pointed out.
"I suppose not." Agreed Lord Gerold Grafton.
"Then do it." Retorted Ser Bryen Farring.
"Very well. I surrender. In truth, this battle was lost once Ser Harlan fled with his thousand men back to Maidenpool. I surrender." Sighed Lord Gerold Grafton.
And with that, the battle for Ironmonger's Corner had ended. It cost us a thousand and a half casualties in total between killed and wounded, however, many of whomever came in the last furious half an hour of fighting, as the assault turned into a night battle once the sun had fully set. The Vale's casualties were total. Out of the five thousand present for the battle, the had lost two and a half thousand dead, with the remainder wounded and captured. Ironmonger's Corner was now ours. Unfortunately, the fight ahead would be difficult to win with things as they stood now. Maidenpool had seven thousand men left, thanks to Ser Harlan's retreat back to it. Meanwhile, we currently had seven and a half thousand combat effective troops. They had walls, we had a fleet.
The Battle for Maidenpool, it seemed, was largely going to come down to tactics. Thankfully, I was very good at tactical thinking. Unfortunately, so was the Tattered Prince.
I could only hope that he hadn't been put back in command or this was going to be a bloodbath. . .
XXXX
AN: All right, so here we have the next chapter. Apologies for any errors here. I wrote this on my phone while on my flight to Ireland.
The Battle For Ironmonger's Corner is a victory for Ricasso, but it has set up the final showdown at Maidenpool to be a tough fight that's largely going to be decided by tactics, thanks to Ser Harlan Hunter retreating with his thousand men back to Maidenpool ahead of Ricasso's advance. If the Tattered Prince is back in command, that's going to be a problem. The numbers are relatively even, and while the fortifications give Maidenpool an advantage, so does Ricasso's Fleet.
At any rate, the next chapter will be a look at the Battle of the Wall, followed by a loom at Stannis' Campaign in the Westerlands. Then we'll be back with Ricasso for the Battle of Maidenpool.
Stay tuned. . .
