DRAGONS REBORN: The Era After SI (GOT story)

Part 23

"Is this really smart to let them land like this?" questioned his vice commander, the only white cloak that had accompanied him on this campaign, Benjen Stark, the first Northern to join the Kingsgaurd in three hundred years.

The man seemed rather quiet and serious at first glance, but Robert had spent years sparring with the Whitecloaks and was quite aware of the hidden boisterous nature of the man. Though none of it was on appearance at the moment as the Golden Companies ships reached the shore and came to a halt.

Robert nodded, his eyes narrowing at the person standing at the head of the ship, he seemed clad in black armor, unlike the rest of the Company, which was fashioned into the signature gold-plated armor.

"Yes, this is the best course of action. Those ships are laden with scorpions and trebuchets. Having our army any closer would bring us into their range," he began as he motioned for one of his squires to come near as he pointed toward the uniquely dressed man.

"Use the far eye and see who is the person wearing the black armor," he ordered as he turned towards Benjen once more.

"Let them begin landing. As soon as they have begun, we shall shower them with arrows and boulders and then crush them with a sweeping cavalry charge, but if we attack now, they will simply pull back," he replied, and Benjen Stark nodded.

"It is a solid plan," and suddenly Robert frowned as the Golden Company raised their banners, but this time alongside their banner was another banner.

A black three-headed dragon on a red background. Opposite of the banner of the Royal Targaryen line. It was the sigil of House Blackfyre. The pretenders were finally here.

"My lord, it's the Blackfyre banner. The person you pointed out is probably...." The squire began nervously as Robert's eyes narrowed.

"Daemon Blackfyre!" he mouthed, and the very words made his anger flare up as his fists balled up. He picked up his Warhammer and began to step forward, his eyes focused onto the shadowy figure clad in Black armor, the man responsible for every tragedy that had befallen him in the past year.

The Golden Company had begun disembarking with their armies dismounting from their ships rapidly. It was time to make their move.

"MEN!" he shouted, his voice reverberating across the clearing as the men perked up at his command. He was in no mood for reviting speeches, and had the old King been alive, he would have chided him for his impatience and bruteness, yet one look at the men behind him told him that there truly was no need for words.

"LET'S SHOW THESE FUCKING PRETENDERS WHAT RETRIBUTION FEELS LIKE!" he shouted and men roared at his words, shaking the very ground as they followed behind him, stepping out of the cover that the small forest provided.

Even at such distance, he could feel the anxiety bubbling in the Golden Company as they saw the assembled fifteen thousand men.

"ARCHERS! TO THE FRONT!" he commanded and felt the men shift as the archers stepped forward, the army's signature unit wielding the recurved bow took the front line.

"TAKE AIM!" he shouted and heard the thrum of more than a bows getting drawn, and then he raised his war hammer, and saw the Golden Companies archer take their positions as well.

They fired their shots, yet their arrows landed in front of them, with only a few managing to land on his men, and even if they were blocked by shields. Yet his wouldn't fall short.

"FIRE!!!!" he shouted as he brought down his Warhammer!

SCHING! SCHWING! BOOM! THUNK! THUNK!

The sky was littered with arrows, scorpions, and boulders and he saw havoc break out in their enemy's camps as the onslaught ripped through the fabled Golden Company.