Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

Seeing the devastation at the docks, the men-at-arms realized that Lynd had been right all along: a large number of Ironborn had indeed attacked Oldtown. But now, it was too late to heed Lynd's commands.

With unease, the men-at-arms gathered around Lynd, their heads bowed slightly, like children caught in a mistake. One of them mustered the courage to ask, "What shall we do now, my lord?"

Lynd looked at the men-at-arms. Though his face was hidden by his helmet, they could feel his fierce gaze piercing through them, making them lower their heads even further, shame burning inside them.

As the weight of their guilt settled over them, Ser Lynd's calm voice emerged from the helmet, saying, "Our duty is to protect Lord Willas's safety. Lord Willas is inside the Starry Sept now. What do you think we should do?"

The men-at-arms understood the meaning of Lynd's words immediately. Without further prompting, they split into two groups. Following the guard plan Lynd had arranged earlier in the day, they led some ordinary guards to the two streets leading to the Starry Sept Square, finding relatively narrow locations to fortify and stand watch.

Lynd observed their movements in silence. He neither corrected them for using this method of guarding nor instructed them to prioritize more pressing measures—like opening the gates of the Starry Sept to escort Willas away, heading to the barracks outside the castle, or retreating to the High Tower, all of which were far safer options than staying put.

For Lynd, this attack by the Ironborn was an opportunity to establish his authority within the Dorne expeditionary force, particularly with these men-at-arms trained by House Tyrell.

On the journey thus far, these knights had outwardly followed Lynd's orders and appeared to acknowledge his position as captain of the men-at-arms. In truth, however, their compliance was merely for show, meant to appease Willas. Deep down, they doubted Lynd's qualifications for the role. To them, the captain's skill was secondary; loyalty was paramount. And in their eyes, no one could surpass the loyalty of House Tyrell's own knights.

Lynd didn't care about their opinions. What mattered to him was that they carried out his orders without question. While their earlier disobedience was understandable, it was still a breach of his commands. On any other day, Lynd would have punished them to underscore the consequences of defiance. But now, there was no need—the Ironborn would punish them for him. Those who survived this invasion would never forget the importance of absolute obedience.

Lynd stood motionless before the main entrance to the Starry Sept, his demeanor suggesting complete indifference to the chaos in Oldtown. In truth, however, he had instructed Glory to climb to the top of a nearby building and use visual sharing to monitor the situation across the city.

The leader of the Ironborn was clearly no ordinary raider. He had studied Oldtown in advance and executed a well-planned assault. While Lynd couldn't be certain why the High Tower's lookout had failed to sound the alarm, he was sure it had something to do with this cunning leader.

The Ironborn's actions, though chaotic on the surface, revealed a clear strategy. Upon landing, they had immediately targeted the Oldtown garrison's rest stop in the dock area, swiftly eliminating its defenses and looting the nearby warehouses.

After securing the docks, the Ironborn split into four groups. One group moved to the arch bridge connecting Oldtown with the High Tower, piling prepared wood onto the bridge and setting it ablaze. The resulting barrier of flames prevented House Hightower's garrison from intervening.

Two other groups attacked the garrison's key strongholds in the city hall district. Their objective wasn't total annihilation but rather delaying the garrison's response, ensuring they couldn't reinforce the docks.

The final group rushed toward Oldtown's gates, likely aiming to seize control and prevent House Tyrell's army from entering the city.

Meanwhile, the bulk of the Ironborn surged into Oldtown's commercial and wealthy districts, pillaging with abandon. A few stayed behind at the docks, continuing to loot and transport stolen goods.

Despite the Ironborn's apparent dominance and their precise execution, Oldtown was not defenseless. While the garrison's two main forces were preoccupied with the Ironborn's elite troops, this also meant those elite forces were tied up, reducing the threat to other areas.

Moreover, Oldtown was home to many sea merchants, seasoned from years of perilous trade and accompanied by capable escorts. Determined to protect their lives and property, these merchants and their guards joined the resistance against the Ironborn's looting.

The leader of the Ironborn likely hadn't anticipated that hundreds of knights, who were supposed to be stationed in the barracks outside the Castle, would instead be scattered across the taverns and brothels of the commercial district. While many were too drunk to stand, let alone fight, there were still some who could wield their weapons effectively.

Additionally, although the arch bridge at the High Tower was blocked, the sea beneath the reef remained open. Lynd had already observed boats carrying soldiers across the water toward the city from the opposite shore.

These scattered acts of resistance, however, were insufficient to halt the Ironborn's plundering; they merely slowed it down. What would truly turn the tide was House Tyrell's army, which had already entered the Castle. It was evident that Jon had followed Lynd's orders.

At the northern city gate, the Ironborn encountered the advancing Tyrell forces. A cavalry charge, followed by advancing infantry, quickly annihilated the Ironborn contingent there. The Tyrell cavalry then galloped toward the Starry Sept, presumably to secure Willas, while the remaining forces split into two groups: one heading to the garrison headquarters in the municipal district and the other to the docks.

Although the burning barricades on the arch bridge had yet to be cleared, soldiers from House Hightower had already been ferried into the city and were engaging the Ironborn. In the commercial district, residents utilized available resources to fend off looters. Apart from the docks, the invading Ironborn elsewhere in Oldtown were facing mounting difficulties.

Still, Lynd noticed that the leader of the Ironborn had no intention of retreating and seemed to have another plan in mind. A detachment of Ironborn from the docks began advancing toward the Starry Sept, clearly targeting Willas. Judging by their speed and the distance, they would likely reach the Sept before the Tyrell cavalry could intervene.

Realizing a confrontation was imminent, Lynd commanded Glory to hide and await an opportune moment to strike. Exiting the visual sharing state, he stepped into the square, facing the road descending from the docks. He drew the Banished Knight's greatsword and stood ready for the Ironborn's arrival.

Lynd's actions drew the attention of the men-at-arms, who quickly understood he had spotted the enemy. Eight knightly squires and twenty warriors moved to block the road, drawing their weapons and forming a line at the intersection.

Soon, the Ironborn emerged around the corner, surging toward the Starry Sept like a relentless tide.

The knightly retainers felt no fear as they beheld the approaching horde. With weapons raised, they led the other warriors in a charge, clashing with the Ironborn in fierce combat. Although they managed to hold back some of the attackers, others bypassed the fight, slipping through surrounding alleys. Only a small force was left to besiege the men-at-arms, while the majority pressed onward toward the Sept.

As the Ironborn swarmed into the square, Lynd's focus wavered momentarily. His sharp eyes caught sight of someone concealed within the crowd—a man with fair skin, strikingly handsome features, and piercing blue eyes reminiscent of the sea. A peculiar smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. Though he tried to blend in, the reverence in the other Ironborn's gazes made it clear he was their leader.

At this moment, the Ironborn who had rushed into the square had already reached Lynd's side, raising their weapons to strike. What shocked them was that their target, so close, vanished suddenly. One after another, their bodies failed them—they collapsed, spinning uncontrollably to the ground. Though their eyes could still see, their minds clouded, and they swiftly lost consciousness.

Lynd moved with the agility of a Shadowcat, his twin swords weaving a deadly whirlwind.

The sheer force of his strikes surpassed that of a battering ram, leaving no one able to withstand him. In moments, the Ironborn were severed in half by the Banished Knight's greatsword. For the first time, Lynd wielded the Banished Knight's Swordsmanship without reservation, paired with the Valyrian steel Banished Knight's Greatsword. Against its ferocity, the Ironborn in their leather armor were as fragile as blades of grass, falling effortlessly without Lynd needing to invoke the dragon runes' power.

In the blink of an eye, the square was drenched in blood as all who had charged forward were decapitated. The scattered body parts and pooling blood did nothing to deter the Ironborn still charging in from behind. They seemed blind to the carnage, mindlessly rushing into the square, only to meet the same fate—swords slicing through the air, cleaving heads and bodies. The mound of corpses on the square grew rapidly.

Elsewhere, the situation was dire. Two of the men-at-arms had fallen, unable to withstand the surrounding attacks.

The remaining six knights struggled to defend themselves, their movements faltering under the relentless assault. The twenty-odd men-at-arms had perished in the first wave of fighting, overwhelmed by the Ironborn. However, the arrival of Glory shifted the tide slightly. Following Lynd's commands with precision, the beast remained hidden in the shadows, targeting isolated Ironborn. Each strike claimed one or two lives.

At first, the Ironborn were baffled by their comrades' sudden deaths, until they realized they were being hunted by a shadowy, monstrous beast. Fear gripped their hearts, but their bodies did not yield to the terror. Instead, they seemed consumed by a frenzied bloodlust, recklessly attempting to surround and attack Glory. But Glory was no stationary target. Before they could form a circle, the beast would vanish into the darkness. The unlucky ones near it were dragged into the shadows, their screams echoing down the street.

The leader of the Ironborn, one of the first to charge into the square, had trusted his instincts. When Lynd launched his attack, a gut feeling warned him of danger. He pulled back just in time, narrowly escaping the deadly strike. From a safer distance, he witnessed the carnage: his men, torn to shreds, and Lynd—their executioner—fixing his cold, unyielding gaze on him. A chilling fear rooted the leader to the spot as a faint, indecipherable whisper drifted through his mind. He couldn't make out the words, but their meaning was unmistakable: Run!

Whether guided by the mysterious voice or sheer terror, the leader scrambled away, crawling through the press of his own men, ignoring the stomping feet and sharp blows from their weapons as he sought escape. Not once did he dare look back.

His ordeal didn't end with his retreat. As he stumbled to his feet, a shadowy figure emerged in front of him, claws and teeth aimed for his throat. Acting on instinct, he threw himself to the ground, barely avoiding the lunging attack. Yet he wasn't fast enough—sharp claws raked his face, gouging his left eye. The searing pain was unbearable, but he didn't stop to assess his wound. He knew the danger wasn't over. Desperation drove him to charge back into the throng of his men, who unwittingly pushed him toward the square.

Meanwhile, Lynd remained in the square, awaiting the Ironborn who kept coming to him. Each who entered met the same fate, slain before they could comprehend what was happening. But as he continued to cut down his foes, Lynd noticed something amiss. Even the bloodthirsty and battle-hardened Ironborn should have faltered, should have shown fear after witnessing the sheer slaughter before them. Instead, they charged as though their own lives were meaningless, throwing themselves at him with reckless abandon.

"Something's wrong," Lynd muttered, recognizing their unnatural behavior. His suspicion deepened as he spotted the Ironborn leader, who had earlier escaped his blade, reentering the square. This time, blood streamed from the leader's left eye, seeping through the gaps between his fingers as he clutched his injury.

Without hesitation, Lynd felled the next four Ironborn who charged at him and then turned his sights on the leader. The Ironborn leader's keen survival instincts flared once more, warning him of imminent danger. The whispering voice returned, urging him to act. Without hesitation, he leapt over the fence at the edge of the square, fleeing toward a new cliff face. Just as Lynd cut through the last of the Ironborn in his path, the leader flung himself off the edge.