KnightofTempest
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Chapter 92
🕑 Added 2024-09-04 04:00:22 +0000 UTCBrownhollow was all things considered, not the hardest fortified town to besiege. Of course, that didn't make it the easiest either, but it was still a lot easier than something like Casterly Rock or the Eyrie would have been. In both of those cases, I would need to resort to tactics different from bombardment followed by assault, as they were built into mountains. I'd had a few tentative ideas in the event it became necessary to besiege either of them, but for now, Brownhollow was the goal.
That didn't mean that it was easy, however. Even having set up a blockade by sea and a siege by land, Brownhollow was fairly well fortified. Thick walls protected the town, with the harbor flanked on one side by a sea tower and the other by the castle proper. The castle itself was located on a raised promontory jutting out into the narrow sea. A river that cut through the land beside the castle led from the Narrow Sea to a deep lake further inland and provided ready access to fresh water, even should the castle's wells run dry, while a section of farmland had been walled off from the rest of the land to provide crops to the castle so the garrison could live through a siege.
In short, the combination of Baelish's money and backing, along with the industriousness of both branches of House Brune ensured that Brownhollow would be a formidable fortress, even should it be besieged by a force with Cannons. Judging by the thickness of the walls, it would take at least a month for the four-pounders in use by the majority of forces in Westeros to batter down the walls. Honestly, you'd be better off trying to undermine sections of the walls, though that ran into potential issues of flooding your tunnels.
Fortunately for me, I had six and eight-pounders available to me, and plenty of them too. When I'd set up the bombardment from land and sea, I'd given express orders to rotate out gun crews for a constant bombardment by day or night. It gave the enemy no time to rest or attempt to repair the walls. Furthermore, with how many guns I had between my army and fleet, even with rotating gun crews, the walls wouldn't last long.
What would take most Westerosi Forces a month to accomplish would wind up taking me just over a week. By the ninth day of the siege of Brownhollow, we had breached the walls in three separate places, a testament to the power of massed six and eight-pound guns. As the final breach was made, I was in my tent, poring over maps that Bronn and the Brute Squad had made of King's Landing's sewer system. As I did that, a cheer went up from my siege lines and Ser Roger Groves entered my tent.
"What was that about?" I questioned.
"We have a third breach. It's near where the farm wall meets the normal city walls on the other side of the Farmland Gate." Answered Ser Roger.
"That makes three now? One there, one near the Harbor, and one on the west side of the Walls?" I queried.
"It does." Confirmed Ser Roger.
"Right. I think we have enough to assault, then." I nodded.
"What are your orders, then, My Lord?" Asked Ser Roger.
"Saalhador Saan, Prince Perros, and Jalhabar Xho will lead the assault at the Harbor. You, Ser Loras, and Lord Mors will handle the assault on the western side of the Walls. I will be taking Lord Rupert and Ser Denys with me to lead the assault on the most recent breach. With any luck, we'll have the town by nightfall and can move on to assault the Castle." I ordered.
"Right. I'll send the messages. Rodrik! Attend me, boy!" Nodded Ser Roger before shouting for one of the messengers.
A gangly Youth of fourteen came running into the tent, dark-haired and with sullen, blue eyes, a scraggly teenage attempt at a beard on his face. He had the look of an Ironborn about him, all told, and he must have had at least some ancestry that could be traced back to the Iron Isles with a look like that. As Ser Roger began to relay my orders to the youth, I made my way over to my armor rack.
My suit of arsenal steel three-quarters plate was chased in brass and the steel was alloyed with cobalt and then blackened, giving it a dark blueish tinge, showing my house colors in the Braavosi fashion of being dark enough to be mistaken for other colors. Furthermore, runes were etched into the steel for durability, flexibility, ease of maintenance, weight reduction, and comfort, before the whole suit was proofed against musketfire. In fact, it was the only suit of armor in the whole world proof against muskets. It was, effectively, a suit of armor out of legend.
Unfortunately, I couldn't put it on by myself. Fortunately, I had a fresh squire that I had taken recently. Clarence Waters was the Bastard Son of Lord Rupert Crabb's cousin, Dick Crabb. Lord Rupert had been seeing to Clarence's welfare since Dick had taken that bump on the head at the Trident that changed his personality. Clarence was, apparently, a larger, bulkier, version of his father. His nut-brown hair was shaggy with sideburns, like his father's was, while his voice was a lower register, but no less scratchy. When Clarence spoke, he sounded like he was growling half the time.
Fortunately for me, Clarence was unlike his father in the ways it counted, and not simply in the ways that involved his sanity compared to his father's concussion-related eccentricity. Dick Crabb could be duplicitous, even when a promise had been made, Clarence would hold to his word strongly. Dick Crabb was scrawny to the point of seeming underfed, while Clarence was hale and hearty. Dick Crabb's attitude tended towards a sour disposition while Clarence's was earnest and stoic.
All in all, he was a dutiful squire, eager to learn and willing to earn his place as a noble with great deeds and good service. At thirteen, he was already well on his way toward earning a Knighthood, I just wished I didn't have to finish off his training during wartime, but those were the times we lived in, unfortunately.
"Come on, my Lord. Let's get you armored up." Rumbled Clarence as he helped me get into my armor.
"You'll need to stick close to me in the assault, Clarence. Your Uncle would never forgive me if I sent you into battle and you died." I commanded as Clarence cinched on various plates.
"You mean I'll be fighting?" Questioned Clarence, tightening the strap on one of my pauldrons to fit it snugly over the breastplate.
"You will. I don't have time to teach you the finer points of warfare in the yard. Not with a war on. Your uncle assures me that you're already a dab hand with an axe, though." I affirmed.
"I am. Traditionally, it's one of three weapons all Pointsmen learn to use, along with the longbow and dirk. Of course, there's also the Sparth Axe, Greatsword, and Lance which I'm also trained in, though not in as great a degree." Nodded Clarence, making sure everything was fit on me properly.
"Right, your uncle mentioned that. Kerns, Hobelars, and Gallowglasses are traditional for the Point." I mused as Clarence ran through his final checks.
"Just so, My Lord." Agreed Clarence as he handed me my helmet and sword belt.
"Right, well, you'd better armor up yourself. We'll be assaulting as soon as the men are gathered. I can handle my own sword belt and helm." I commanded.
"Of course, My Lord." Confirmed Clarence before heading to his smaller, nearby, tent to equip for battle.
By the time he'd returned, armored in an arsenal steel breastplate with tassets over an arsenal steel mail hauberk, arsenal steel burgonet helm, and arsenal steel gauntlets and sabatons, runic, arsenal steel Kern Axe slung across his back, Ser Denys Irons and Lord Rupert Crabb had already arrived at my tent. Ser Denys and Lord Rupert were armed in Arsenal Steel Plate, with Lord Rupert sticking to the Churburg-style harness that was so popular in Westeros and Ser Denys going with the Valyrian Style that was so reminiscent of Milanese Plate from back on Earth. Both had runes etched into their gear, with Ser Denys carrying an Arsenal Steel, Runic, Ironborn-style Skeggox, and Lord Rupert carrying a Runic, Arsenal Steel, Greatsword slung across his back.
"Right, now that we're all here, let's get the men and head for the breach." I intoned.
"After you, My Lord." Concurred Ser Denys.
"Clarence? You're coming with us to fight?" Queried Lord Rupert.
"I am, Uncle. Lord Seawynd says it is how I'll learn. Through experience." Answered Clarence.
"He'll stay near me at all times, worry not." I placated.
"He'll be safe. Lord Seawynd's a regular terror on the field." Added Ser Denys.
"He'd better be." Huffed Lord Rupert.
"Uncle, please. I'll be fine." Frowned Clarence.
We made our way over to the group we were leading through the breach. Eight thousand men, mixed groups of halberdiers, pikemen, and musketeers, all ready to storm into the Town of Brownhollow and seize control of it in the name of King Stannis. Of course, some of our officers might be more interested in the bonuses I'd promised the assault parties for a speedy victory. Financial incentives always helped buoy morale, after all. That was aside from the fact that with House Brune so deep in Littlefinger's pockets, it was unlikely that they'd be allowed to keep their lands once Stannis sat on the Iron Throne, meaning that the Lordships of Dyre Den and Brownhollow would be there for the taking once all was said and done, providing further incentive for some of the higher-ranked officers.
"Right, we all know the job we're here to do and if you do it well and in good time, you will be richly rewarded from the treasury with a bonus. Thirty-five Gold Dragons to every man here in addition to your normal pay. That's nothing to sneeze at and can buy you a fine suit of Arsenal Steel Plate, a fine Arsenal Steel Arming Sword, a fine Destrier, and enough good food, fine wine, and skilled whores for a week of debauchery, and you would still have money left over. Fight for that, if you will not fight for the rights of King Stannis, I care not so long as you fight!" I exclaimed, addressing the men.
A cheer went up from the various troops at that and I knew that we'd have the advantage of morale going into the battle now if we didn't have it already. I let the cheering go on for a few moments before holding my hand up to signal for the men to quiet down. Once they had, I nodded in satisfaction.
"Fall in by battalion and let's get to work! The sooner we capture Brownhollow, the sooner you all get your bonuses." I commanded.
And with that, we got into formation and began moving toward the breach. As we did, music began to echo out through the ranks to keep us marching in time. Fife and Drum was the latest innovation I had introduced to help keep everyone in step and add a psychological factor to my forces on the march. I'd even written a few of the tunes myself, cribbed from ones from back on Earth. As the breach drew nearer, the sound of the British Grenadiers echoed out from the marching ranks of my army. It put a grin on my face, though none in Westeros yet knew to fear that music. They would though, eventually.
As we got within musket range of the walls of Brownhollow, a few intrepid Brune Musketeers with their matchlocks tried taking potshots at our advancing force. Very few hit, a dozen pikemen going down to holes punched through their armor, and musket balls lodging in their bodies. Our own musketeers returned fire more accurately with their snaplocks, as puffs of smoke rang out from our ranks alongside cracks of thunder. A couple dozen Brune Musketeers fell from atop the walls, bodies punctured by our return fire until they learned to duck. We'd traded twelve pikemen for thirty-six of their three hundred musketeers.
The second volley from the Brune Musketeers was ragged, the few remaining Brune Musketeers not able to keep as much of their nerve on seeing how lopsided things were. Maybe eight pikemen and halberdiers went down, though as they did, I felt a musket ball slam into my breastplate as one of the Brune Musketeers got a lucky hit. It slammed me back down onto the ground and bruised my chest under the armor, but failed to penetrate the mystically enhanced, musketproof armor. Clarence helped me up as our Musketeers returned fire, reaping a deadly toll as a further forty-eight Brune Musketeers were silenced by our more accurate fire.
The remaining Brune Musketeers fired one last volley, taking out twenty-two of our advancing troops, focused as they were by the need to keep us away from the breach and the closer range now that we were practically at the breach. Our musketeers fired one last volley, but the Brunes were expecting that and ducked back behind the walls. We only got another twenty-four of them before they fell back off the wall to reform elsewhere.
I drew my Valyrian Steel blade and pointed it at the breach where a few companies of nervous-looking Brune Halberdiers stood trying to block our entry into the Town through the breach. As I pointed at them, I shouted out, "At them lads!"
A cheer went up from the ranks and then we charged in. Our pikemen took the lead and their longer weapons punched into the mail-clad ranks of the enemy, Arsenal Steel Pike Heads splitting the weaker mail links of castle-forged steel and skewering the men beneath. As the front rank of Brune Halberdiers died and pikes snapped off, the pikemen drew their own arsenal steel blades and the charge continued.
I found myself lashing out with a tondo cut at a Brune Halberdier Serjeant with a plumed kettle helmet who was trying to order the enemy ranks to close up. He tried to block my blade with the haft of his halberd, but the oak was no match for Valyrian Steel and his weapon was shorn in half. My follow-on, overhand, descending, imbrocatta thrust punched through his Brigandine and the Mail beneath to pierce into his torso, punching through his right lung and down into his liver. I kicked the corpse away and ducked a swipe from an enemy Halberdier who was attempting to take my head off. As I did that, I thrust upward in an upward, Stocatta, thrust that punched through mail and into his heart, killing him.
To my right, I saw Clarence cleave a Brune Halberdier's arm off at the shoulder and kick the now one-armed Halberdier back into a group of Halberdiers attempting to move up to plug the hole in their formation, sending some of them stumbling to the ground and ensuring we still were able to cleave their formation apart. To my left, Ser Denys hacked into the top of a Brune Halberdier's skull with his Skeggox while Lord Rupert cleaved another Haberdier in twain from shoulder to hip with his greatsword.
That was all I had time to take in, as I was suddenly forced to pay attention to a foe of my own. An enemy Halberdier attempted to thrust the top spike of his halberd into my chest. I parried the incoming thrust with the Eighth Parry, flicking my wrist and sending the blade down and to the right, bringing the halberd out wide before pulling a dagger off my belt and shoving it through my opponent's eye with a rushing lunge.
As he fell back, the weight of our charge broke the enemy formation. They couldn't properly plug the gap we'd made and now their defensive square burst apart at the seams, broken Brune Halberdiers streaming back into the town, taking any route they could to get away. Out of three hundred Halberdiers and three hundred Musketeers the Brunes had defending the breach, they'd left one-hundred-forty dead and a further one-hundred wounded who surrendered. Conversely, we'd suffered ninety-five dead and wounded all told.
"They're on the run, Lord Rupert! Take a detail and round up the prisoners, the rest of you, follow me! We'll press this home and seize the bloody lot of them!" I ordered.
A cheer went up as Lord Rupert Crabb took a company to disarm the wounded enemy and round them up to be taken as prisoners. The rest of our forces attacked further into the Town. We engaged in several running skirmishes over the course of the remainder of the day, and I picked up a cut on my lip from a gauntleted punch by a Household Knight sworn to House Brune before the man surrendered after my Valyrian Steel blade sheared his Arming Sword in half. It took time, but the outcome was never in doubt. After all, it wasn't just our prong that the enemy was facing, as two other prongs of eight thousand men each were also streaming through breaches elsewhere in the town.
By the time the sun had set, the town of Brownhollow was ours and we spent a few hours rounding up enemy stragglers and bringing up cannons to assault the Castle. By the time we had finished doing that and gotten a few hours of rest, morning had come. All it took was a single shot from the six-pounder we'd mounted on a carriage and brought into the city. The Six-pounder blew the doors off Castle Brownhollow and we rushed into the opening for the last skirmish of the Battle of Brownhollow. Naturally, I led the charge.
The enemy was a mix of units, Musketeers, Halberdiers, and Swordsmen with a few Brune Household Knights and Mountain Clansmen from Baelish's Domain to boot. As we entered, our Musketeers exchanged a single volley with the remaining Brune Musketeers, as dozens fell on both sides in the packed entry hall of Castle Brownhollow. Then we charged in while the enemy Musketeers were reloading. I scored my first kill in the castle with a fendente cut on a Mountain Clansman that split him open diagonally from teeth to groin, his boiled leather and fur armor proving no match for Valyrian Steel.
I had no time to rest on my Laurels, however, as a second Mountain Clansman with a long beard and a massive warhammer swung for my skull, forcing me to duck. He was armored better than the first one, in a chainmail hauberk of castle-forged steel, though as his hammer passed over my head close enough for me to feel the breeze and I thrust upward with a stocatta thrust, it proved little impediment, my blade punching through it and into his stomach and lungs. Nearby, Ser Roger carved through a pair of Mountain Clansmen with Lamentation, his Valyrian Steel, Runic, Blade parting Castle-Forged Steel Chainmail, and Iron Scale Armor alike.
To my right, Clarence was engaged with a Household Knight of Brune, parrying a sword thrust on the haft of his Kern Axe and splitting the Man's shield apart with his riposte in a splinter of oak. His kick opened the Household Knight up for the finishing blow that split the man's Bascinet Helm and skull alike. Lord Rupert meanwhile had carved a Halberdier in half with his greatsword and moved on to crush the face of a Swordsman with a pommel strike between the eyes that broke the Man's skull. Ser Denys organized the Musketeers and another volley ripped out from them, felling even more of the enemy, while Ser Loras led our Halberdiers against an organized group holding the entry that led further into the Castle alongside Prince Perros.
It was as I engaged my third opponent of the Skirmish, a Household Knight of Brune, that something finally gave in the enemy. I lashed out with a descending, vertical, Squalembrato cut that the Household Brune Knight dodged away from. My rising, vertical, ridoppio cut on the same line of attack caught him by surprise however, and brought his charging counterattack up short, allowing me to punch the guard of my blade into his nose, his Bascinet Helm doing nothing to protect his face. With a crunch, his nose broke and he fell back cutting out wildly to attempt to spoil my follow-on attack. Instead of doing the predictable thing, however, I tackled him, going low for the knees and bearing him to the floor in a wrestling maneuver. We lost our grips on our swords as we hit the floor. Then we scrabbled for a few moments, jockeying for position. His gauntlet smashed my own nose flat, but not before I managed to get in a mount position.
I pulled my dagger, ready to plunge it into his eye when he shouted out, "Yield, I yield!"
I retrieved my blade from the floor and found that we had managed to seize the Entry Hall fully. The remnants of the enemy force had surrendered or fled deeper into the castle. I forcibly re-aligned my broken nose with a crack, blowing out the blood as we prepared to head deeper into the Castle. By this point, however, the Battle had been pretty well won. There were a few smaller skirmishes as we spread through the front half of the Castle, cutting off enemies in various rooms.
By noon on the tenth day of the Siege of Brownhollow, Ser Bennard Brune, Cousin of Lord Eustace Brune of Dyre Den, and the Knight of Brownhollow surrendered. Ser Bennard was an old man, not quite Lord Eustace's seventy-six years of age, but old enough to not be able to take the field himself. The kicker? The Household Knight I'd captured was his son and heir, Ser Bernarr Brune, a man of forty-one years with a son of his own, Bennifer Brune, a lad of thirteen squirting for Ser Bradford Brune of Dyre Den.
All told, the capture of Brownhollow had cost us around five hundred men killed or wounded, while the Brunes and Baelish had lost one-thousand-one-hundred men killed, wounded, and captured, not including the Naval Battle that had preceded the siege. Speaking of ships, the sixty-six ships of the enemy fleet that had withdrawn into the Harbor of Brownhollow had also been captured. It seemed that Baelish had hired a number of crews from Volantis to crew his ships, a mistake given my own crews were hired primarily from Braavos. By any measure, this was a great victory. We stayed in Brownhollow for a few days to organize a Garrison, figure out prisoners, start care for our wounded, and get the supply situation in order.
Then it would be on to Dyre Den, hopefully for a repeat performance. . .
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AN: So yeah, Brownhollow Falls, which was pretty much bound to happen given how small the garrison was compared to how large the attacking force was. Ricasso had over twenty-seven times the numbers that the Brunes did here. The numbers disparity isn't going to be much better for the Brunes at Dyre Den, either.
The Cracklaw Point Campaign was always going to be a victory for Ricasso, it's just a matter of how painful Baelish's Puppets can make it for Ricasso to win. Baelish and his Puppets are doing a better job than the Pirates of the Stepstones did, that's for sure, though they haven't been doing as well as the Summer Islanders did.
At any rate, the next chapter will be an Interlude with Brienne and the attack on Duskendale. That's going to be a lot more even.
Stay tuned. . .
