The Pale Upstart ( GOT System Fic )

( Beryn Hardy )

 They rode as one, a veritable wall of warhorses and knights in bloodied scale armours. He felt somewhat awkward riding at the front amongst the lords, but they were moving to strike, they were not simply taking the scenic route throughout the woods. 

 He did feel a smidge of awe as they galloped past the enormous trees. The Crownlands certainly lacked luscious forests like these. A shame they were about to splatter red upon all those green leaves and bushes. 

 He was holding his spear with his right hand now, not the one he favoured but his left arm had been broken during the initial charge. It was almost pitiful how closely he'd brushed with death during a charge the Rebels could barely even react to. But a charge was a strenuous thing. Your spear would strike at a shield, and all the power gathered in that attack, mostly by the horse itself, would shoot right back into your arm. 

 Worse than that, even, some cunt had penetrated his thigh with some flimsy dagger. It hurt more than he would like to admit, but he would ruin his chance to impress his superiors. He had not joined this company to crawl in the lower ranks indefinitely. And with that awfully pale kid, he certainly couldn't afford to be a slouch. He had a nasty little feeling that had nagged at him since the battle had started. The kid would somehow find a way to shine even though he was still shit as a warrior. 

 He couldn't quite explain it. And he would not attempt to do so now. They had put enough distance between themselves and the rebels now, and the poor fucks were probably shitting themselves. They had heard the thunderous march of thousands of warhorses but the other shoe hadn't yet fallen, and they were waiting. The wait itself would do wonders to chip down their morale. 

 Their gambit to draw them into the initial trap near the Acorn Hall had seen their numbers greatly diminished, and he could imagine that they only had one wish now. 

 To return home. The only thing that would, would be word of their crushing defeat. 

 The rain had turned the dirt beneath them into muddy terrain but they would still manage a charge. It would be enough to push the rebel forces out of the forests and right into the waiting pikes. 

 He almost pitied, right up until he imagined the nice little salary the Boars would receive after such a battle. 

 " Do not let them see that the charge is false! Let them see the Stranger eye to eye!" The Blackfish ordered. 

 The Rebels had proven surprisingly adaptable so it was probably best to commit to the charge until the last second, lest they guess the plan and stand their ground instead of fleeing into open grounds. 

 A myriad of shouts all along the line of cavalry resounded amongst the silent woods, and as one they charged. He probably should have allowed a few other knights to pass him by so he would not be first in line to face the infantry, but he hardly thought at that moment. He heard his heart hammer in his ears and he released a warcry. 

 Several branches collapsed against his chest as the wind chilled his entire body. He was drenched and could hardly see, but he did not have a good sight to just charge forward mindlessly. 

 In the distance, he saw the Rebels finally pinpoint where the horsemen were. They screamed, they hastily formed a shield wall and a few arrows flew by him. One whistled past his right ear and before he could brace himself for the impact, they were already upon a line of terrified men who had made their bed. 

 They shook, and not entirely just because of the rain, yet they pushed against their shields with nerves popping on their faces. Most were indeed to meet the Stranger. He would help them with that. 

 A part of the cavalry galloped away to prepare yet another charge whilst the rest drew their swords and hacked at the men beneath them. 

 He split a man's face in two and kicked the body away to free his blade. The entire block of infantrymen was already moving towards the plains, so it appeared their strategy would work. They only needed to push harder. 

 Beside him, a Boar Sellsword clad in strange armour swung a poleaxe and dug in a man's neck like one would cut up a tree to make it fall. He was quite a lithe figure, wearing something halfway between Lannister and Kingsguard armour, a sleek lamellar armour with a fucking cape of all things. He proudly wore the Boar's emblem and easily distinguished himself amongst the countless other knights and mounted sellswords in this chaotic fight. 

 He was neither Slade nor Oswyn, probably someone else high up in the hierarchy…which meant he should put all his efforts into shining near the unknown sellsword. 

 He smiled widely and brought his sword down on a helmet, crashing the steel blade against it so harshly the soldier it belonged to fell on his ass, blood pouring down his skull. 

 They were near their infantry now and the Rebels could make out the spearmen's silhouettes through the thick wall of leaves. Those at the rear cursed and banged their fists against their friends' backs, but nothing could stop the wave of horses. 

 A good amount of knights had dismounted as the beast struggled in the mud and they pushed against the shields with a fury unmatched. 

 The Blackfish gave the command for the spearmen to commence to attack the rear anyway, seeing as they had momentum anyway. And the shield wall moved with far less discipline than they had an hour prior. They ran like a pack of hungry dogs, launching themselves at the cornered Rebels who now faced cavalry from both the front and the flanks and were about to get a hundred spears shoved in their rear. 

 To his surprise– and his delight though he found himself puzzled at the emotion– he could easily make out the little fucker in the mass of bodies that now pressed themselves against the enemy forces. His white hair was partially dyed red, and he had this crazy look in his eyes, as though he was both lost yet ready to bite the first fool who bared their neck at him. 

And bite he did. Beryn could hardly believe it as he saw the boy who, by all rights, should have been exhausted, cleave through some poor sod's torso diagonally. Having no true armour upon oneself certainly did not help. 

 The Rebels fought like the surrounded rats they were and he caught himself briefly counting the loyalists' troops left. Momentum was a hell of a drug because they had certainly lost a lot more than he had believed. The Rebels' cavalry sending their own into some silly chase had certainly dealt them a heavy blow and the whole shield wall gaps strategy, whilst brilliant in itself, had been terribly executed at times. 

 Apparently Gideon's side of the infantry had not failed so spectacularly as the rest if the boy was still so fit. On the other hand, he very much wasn't. 

 He swung an aching arm around, his other practically useless, and he was certain he would have to crawl on the ground like a gripple if he was dismounted now. 

 Of course, right as he thought of that, a slab of iron he refused to call a sword sliced into his mount's head and he found himself in the air and parallel to the ground before he could blink. 

 He threw himself off of the horse at the last second and thankfully did not end up underneath it. He rolled on his back and hit his head against a Loyalist's knight shield. The man grunted and lifted him off his feet like he was a petulant child. 

 He expected to see the fucker who had dismounted him, ready to take his head next, but his sight was filled with nothing but an arrow as he lifted his head. He turned in reflex but it sliced into the flesh and opened a gash in his forehead. 

 Blood pooled into his left eye and he stood on his only good leg at the moment. That cloaked Boar had the dismounting cunt in his arms. In one fell swoop, he turned so as to put his back to the man, pulled on one of the man's arms and lifted him off the ground. 

 He flew gracefully for all but a second before he crashed against the mud. The man coughed out blood and tried to fight back but that Sellsword….held his poleaxe high in the air and then–

 *Thunk*

 He brought down the poleaxe's hammerhead with his entire might. Bones shattered as the man's ceased to make any sound instantly. Beryn almost winced when the hammerhead parted with the flesh, some bits attached to it. 

 " RETREAT!" 

 The guttural scream entered his ears but he barely reacted to it, his eyes still focused on the cloaked sellsword. 

 " Now would be the time to give chase instead of gawking at me, eh?" The man's muffled voice came out. It sounded….about the same as Gideon sounded. Like a child imitating a man's voice. 

 " DON'T CHASE AFTER THEM! LORD ROOTE AND HIS MEN WILL DO SO! ROUND UP THE WOUNDED!" The Blackfish yelled at the top of his lungs with a raspy voice. He looked….well he looked like a fucking wildling, caked in both blood and mud. 

 He remembered a time when things had been different. When he would fight for cowardly pigs who would not even set foot in this weather, much less fight. 

 He had to admit he could understand now, why the Blackfish was held in such high esteem. 

__________

( Gideon )

 He couldn't deny that a bath sounded quite fantastic right about now. A bath and a nice bed. 

 Truthfully, even a shitty one would do, so long as he could finally rest. If all battles were supposed to be like this, he almost regretted his choice to embark on this path. 

 With the Rebels on the run, as they were, he nearly allowed himself to fall on his back and rest right there in the mud. All around him, he saw a few faces that told the same tale, but something quickly shot those plans down. 

 The cavalry had regrouped with them and the lords were discussing with the Blackfish. Lord Tully was actually present. He had expected the man to be the sort of liege lord who was reliant on delegation, but he could at least respect this. And he had seen some fighting by the looks of it too. 

 Then, he heard words that forced a groan out of his mouth. 

 " Lord Tully, Ser Brynden, should we not cut those dogs down? I understand the logic of letting Lord Roote chase them down….it is sound, given the composition of his forces but…" Lord Bracken spoke before a coughing fit overtook him. He was clutching his chest and Gideon could see a rather large dent in the plate armour. That had to have been a nasty hit. 

 " I would rather we let the men breathe and recuperate so we can go back to our initial plans. The faster we get to siege Wayfarer's Resr, the better. There are different ways to press one's advantage, my lords." Lord Brynden answered. 

 Certainly, it did sound good to him. Mostly because the Blackfish was the one proposing that they get some rest. He heard more than a few grunts of agreement from the men. 

 He wasn't in top form, and so his mind was a bit diminished, but he agreed that the siege would be a better idea, especially given that the second army was mostly made up of cavalry and would prove far more useful to run the retreating army down whilst the main force besieged the castle. They would also run down the many who had not followed the two organized retreats and had just run away in random directions.

 He genuinely hoped the army he was a part of would at least take some time to replenish the army and train some new archers, as he could hardly imagine how the siege would go without them.

 Whilst the lords debated, he slicked his hair back and took a deep, long breath. The rain was calming down now. Whilst in the past he may have simply smiled and kept it at that, now he narrowed his eyes at the sky. 

 ' So…this rain was probably not natural, huh? Was this all for me? Some test maybe?'

 If the Gods actually intervened in his life, even more directly than they did through the system…things could be horrendous in a short amount of time. 

 He would have to watch out for strangely convenient timing in the future. It had not really hit him when it began but its ending right as the battle did was highly suspicious. 

 Though of course, the battle had not truly ended. For the system had not yet given him his hard-earned rewards…and the lords had sadly convinced the Blackfish, who now turned to address the men. 

 " PROUD RIVERLANDERS! TODAY, WE HAVE BEATEN DOWN THESE REBEL DOGS! BUT NOW THEY RUN, THEY RUN BACK GO THEIR KENNELS TO LICK THEIR WOUNDS! SHOULD WE NOT BE MERCIFUL AND FINISH THEM!?" 

 He had actually not expected the thunderous response the Blackfish received. Of course, he lacked the passive the loyalists had with the rebels. They were his enemies….but only out of circumstances. 

 Alas, they would not receive a shred of mercy from him. The Blackfish spoke, and so the men moved. Naturally, the cavalry would get there first, but there would still be some last rats to put down by the time the infantry caught up. 

 The knights went back to their horses, and off they went, further south down the same path he and Beryn had used to get to Acorn Hall. 

 If their timing had been slightly off, they would have actually encountered the rebel army still marching. They had been extremely lucky, and the realization did not sit right with him. 

 He followed the others' pace as they trotted in the mud. A few of them fell, partly due to said mud but also due to the battle euphoria wearing off. The fatigue and pain had made themselves known. Yet they ran still, for a good dozen minutes or so. And then

 Something else made itself known: Arrows. A lot of them….

 An actual shit ton of them!

 *Clink*

 He'd lifted the shield he had taken from a corpse and had ducked under it. Thank the Gods he had reacted on time because an ungodly rain of arrows had just hit them just when the actual rain had stopped. Curse their fucking luck. They littered the ground and a good hundred men or so had been caught defenseless.

 But that begged a question–

 " SHIELD WALL YOU DAFT FUCKS! THE CUNTS HAVE A THOUSAND ARCHERS!" He heard in the distance. 

 " ANOTHER FUCKING TRAP!? HOW LAYERED WAS THEIR GODS DAMNED PLAN!?" Commander Slade, who had apparently remained with them, yelled in frustration. 

 He peaked from the right side of his shield as the others gathered up in formation to protect themselves and before them….

 The cavalry was running back as though a dragon was chasing. The sunlight was dimmed and he looked up, without even really knowing why. 

 He did not see a beautiful sky as the previous clouds parted. No.

 He saw nothing but arrows.

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A.N: Hey y'all, I would really appreciate comments or reviews as they allow me to see where the fic stands at any given point and if it is going in the right direction. It's also an incentive for me as a writer. 

So don't hesitate to share your opinion or ask any questions you may have.