The King of Winters

Chapter 71

Behind, his servants hurriedly began to strike his tent. Pale crimson fingers fanned out to the east as the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. The western sky was a deep purple, speckled with stars.

A warhorn sounded in the far distance, a deep mournful note that chilled the soul. His men all climbed onto their garrons and coursers alike, shouting curses and other stuff. The rising sun was burning off the drifting tendrils of fog as Garlan led them off. What grass the horses had left was heavy with dew, as if some passing god had scattered a bag of diamonds over the earth. The mounted cavalry of Highgarden fell in behind him, for every knight there were ten men at arms.

In the dawn light, the army of Ser Garlan Tyrell unfolded like an iron rose, thorns gleaming.

His fellow lords were already shouting orders to the people around. Lord Edgerran Oakheart the Oakenshield, Lord of Old Oak was there with his youngest son Ser Arys by his side. The Fossoways had already come as well, Ser Tanton, Ser Edwyd and Ser Bryan from the red and Ser Jon from the green. Ser Parmen Crane and the Ambroses, Arthur and Edmund. Lord Warryn Beesbury, Lord of Honeyholt, Ser Hugh Beesbury  Ser Leo Blackbar and dozen others.

"Has the men been readied for battle?" he asked them.

"Yes, Ser," Lord Edgerran said, a big and strong man, able and skilled with a sword. His once light brown hair had turned grey. It was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms that it was Lord Randall Tarly and Lord Edgerran Oakheart who held a last stand against King Eddard Stark's northmen during the Battle of Wolfswood which had brought the precious time for King Rhaegar's army to safely retreat back and saved thousands of lives from being butchered that day. He was called the Oakenshield by the men ever since.

"Good," Garlan told him. "No time to go through the battle plans once again but the plans remain the same as we discussed last night. I will lead the van from the center. Lord Edgerran commands our right and Ser Taton our left."

"Aye, Ser." The lords all said at once.

Garlan thanked the gods that he had called for a war council last night. Elsewise they would have been in deep trouble right now. He had divided his host in three huge parts. Garlan would lead the center with some of the mounted knights and heavy cavalry forming up his vanguard. He had raised his standards in a good solid spot beside the red fork of the Trident. Quivers hanging from their belts, the foot archers arrayed themselves into three long lines, to east of their position in a high vantage point, and stood calmly stringing their bows. The pikemen formed squares in his centre; behind were rank on rank of men-at-arms with spear and sword and axe. Half a thousand heavy horse surrounded Garlan and some of the lords and knights Beesbury, Crane, and Blackbar with all their sworn retainers.

The right wing was all cavalry, some four thousand men, heavy with the weight of their armor. More than three quarters of the knights in his army were there, massed together like a great steel fist. Lord Edgerran Oakheart had the command. Garlan saw his banner unfurl as his standardbearer shook it out; three green oak leaves on gold. Behind him flew Lord Arthur Ambrose's red ants, the bull skull of Bulwer, the bountiful golden horn of House Merryweather, and more.

Beside the river were another mass of cavalry, light horses which were suitable to ride in the soft muddy banks of the river. Ser Tanton Fossoway had the command of it. Around him, the left wing had formed; a huge force, half mounted and half foot, five thousand strong. The reserves stayed behind where they had camped under the command of Lord Bulwer, another five thousand strong to help them should the battle turn sour.

Even from afar, his army would look strong and resplendent, he knew. The knights in all their flashing armors and their horses draped in different colors. There were plenty of banners fluttering about in the wind, the golden Rose of Tyrell most of them.