[The Westerlands, The Golden Tooth, 3rd moon, 299AC]
Harald crouched atop the western battlements with two archers beside him as the first flames spread across the lower wagon yard beneath them. At first, the fire looked small enough to manage, a patch of orange against the darkness, the sort of thing a sleepy guard might curse about before fetching water.
Then the wind shifted, as if the gods were on their side.
The flames climbed quickly after that, racing across stacked hay and dry wood until sparks leapt onto the nearby stable roofs. Horses began screaming almost immediately.
"That'll do it," Harald muttered.
Below them, guards started shouting.
Not in alarm yet, but no doubt confusion was mounting.
One man ran across the yard carrying a bucket before stopping entirely as another fire erupted further down the western wall. Then came another shout from somewhere deeper in the castle, followed by the sharp blast of a horn.
Dorren crouched nearby beside Shadow, watching the castle come to life with hard eyes. The lad looked younger in stillness than he did in battle, Harald noticed. Too young for this sort of work. Then the boy would turn his head, or give an order, and suddenly he looked older than most men twice his age.
"Archers," Dorren said quietly. "In the tower there."
Harald followed his gaze.
Three Lefford bowmen had appeared atop a nearby western tower, staring down toward the spreading flames below them with open confusion.
"Taken them out, quickly," Harald ordered.
The northern archers loosed immediately.
The first arrow missed cleanly in the dark. The second struck a man in the shoulder hard enough to spin him sideways. Before the others could react, Shadow moved.
The direwolf crossed the distance faster than Harald would have believed possible for something that large. One moment, he was crouched beside Dorren, the next, he hit the nearest archer full in the chest and drove him screaming off the battlements entirely.
The second man barely managed to draw steel before Shadow tore into his throat.
The third ran.
Dorren rose at once. "We need to move, stay low, and stick with your dance partners."
The infiltrators split apart quickly through the smoke-filled western passages while the fires spread wider beneath them. Harald led six men toward the tower stairs while Dorren disappeared deeper into the fortress with the crannogmen.
The Golden Tooth was awake now.
Not organized.
But awake nonetheless.
Men poured from barracks in partial armor while servants screamed and ran through courtyards carrying water buckets that seemed far too small for the scale of the flames now spreading through the western side of the castle. Horns blew from two different towers at once, neither matching the other.
'Perfect.' Harald smiled grimly.
Confused men died far more easily.
He descended the tower stairs quickly, sword already in hand. Halfway down, they encountered the fleeing archer.
The boy could not have been older than sixteen.
He froze at the sight of armored northerners coming up the stairwell.
Harald killed him before he could shout.
No hesitation.
One swing, one death
The body tumbled backward down the steps and crashed hard into the wall below.
One younger northern soldier swallowed hard at the sound.
Harald looked at him briefly. "If you start feeling sorry now, you'll be dead before sunrise."
The young man nodded grimly.
They pushed onward.
Smoke thickened deeper into the fortress. Harald could already hear fighting breaking out in scattered pockets around the western side as infiltrators encountered guards responding to the fires. The plan had worked better than he expected, honestly. The Lefford men were reacting exactly how frightened castle garrisons always reacted once they realized enemies were already inside their walls.
Poorly.
A Lefford serjeant rounded the corner ahead of them with four guards behind him.
"What in seven hells—"
Harald crashed into him before the man finished speaking.
The fight was fast and ugly.
Steel rang against stone walls while men shoved and grappled in the cramped corridor. Harald drove his shoulder into the serjeant hard enough to pin him against the wall before stabbing him twice beneath the ribs. Beside him, one of the younger Northerners lost footing in blood and nearly died before another man dragged him clear.
Then Shadow came from nowhere again.
The direwolf hit one fleeing guard so hard that both disappeared through a side doorway together.
The screaming lasted only seconds.
"Gods," one northern muttered quietly.
They moved quickly after that, taking the lower western tower entirely before more defenders could organize around it. Harald stationed archers there immediately while smoke rolled thicker through the lower courtyards.
Below them, fires now fully consumed two supply buildings.
Good.
The more chaos, the better.
A horn sounded from deeper inside the castle.
Then another answered it from the eastern side.
Harald frowned.
"They know," one archer said, grabbing an arrow and nocking it in preparation.
"Aye," Harald replied. "Now they just don't know how many of us there are."
Their success now hinged on that very fact.
Fear filled gaps faster than truth.
One frightened man became five in the telling. Five would soon become fifty, and fifty became a full army inside the walls in no time.
Harald descended again after leaving the tower secure. The western side of the fortress had become a maze of smoke, shouting, and scattered fighting now. Men rushed in every direction carrying contradictory orders while bells rang overhead and horses screamed from burning stables.
Twice, Harald heard defenders shouting about attacks at the eastern gate already, despite Alaric's host still remaining out of sight beyond the mountains.
'Let them fear ghosts before the real enemy arrived.' Harald thought, his knife finding the throat of a lone defender who scrambled in front of him.
Soon after, a crannogman emerged from the smoke near the gatehouse and gave a sharp whistle.
Harald crossed toward him immediately.
"The chains?" he asked.
"Done," the crannogman replied. "Partly cut. Winches jammed too."
"How long before they notice?"
The crannogman shrugged. "Depends on how stupid they are."
Harald barked a short laugh at that.
Then the ground trembled beneath them.
Not strongly.
But enough to send a brief tremor through every man within the castle's walls.
Everyone froze.
A second later came more sounds.
A deep, distant roar rolling across the mountains.
Harald turned instinctively eastward.
Not long after came another impact.
The entire castle shook violently as something massive slammed into the eastern curtain wall hard enough to crack stone and send dust raining from nearby rooftops.
Men stopped shouting, frozen in uncertainty, and even some in fear.
For one strange heartbeat, the whole fortress seemed stunned silent.
Then came screaming.
"Trebuchets," Harald muttered softly.
Another impact followed moments later.
This one was worse than the last.
A section of the tower near the eastern wall exploded outward in stone dust and shattered masonry while frightened defenders scattered below.
Harald grinned despite himself.
"There you are, lad," he said quietly.
Alaric had arrived.
The castle's panic deepened almost immediately after that. Defenders now realized the nightmare fully.
Enemies inside.
Enemies outside.
Walls breaking.
Fires spreading.
Command collapsing.
Harald saw one Lefford officer trying desperately to rally men toward the eastern wall while another shouted for troops to secure the western gatehouse instead. Neither noticed they were draining men from each other.
Perfect, let the chaos grow even more, it will serve to make their assault on the castle all the more easier.
Within another heartbeat, another horn sounded.
This time, it was a northern horn, soon followed by thousands of war cries echoing faintly through the pass beyond the eastern wall.
The sounds of thousands of boots marching forward rang out, more impacts following, no doubt coming from more stones sent by the northern trebuchets.
The assault had officially begun.
Harald gathered his men quickly. "Move. We secure the inner yard before they regroup."
They advanced through smoke-filled corridors toward the central fortress streets, where fighting had become heavier now. Lefford household knights finally appeared in proper armor, trying to restore order among frightened garrison troops.
One knight pointed toward Harald's group.
"There! Kill the bastards!"
The clash came hard.
Steel slammed together in the narrow courtyard while arrows hissed overhead from nearby towers. Harald met the Lefford knight directly, the man swinging a longsword two-handed with enough force to split shields.
The knight was good.
Older, too, experienced even.
"You northern dogs should've stayed in your frozen wasteland," the man snarled during the fight.
Harald shoved aside another strike. "And you should've chosen a better liege."
Then he buried steel through the knight's throat.
The man collapsed hard onto the stones.
More defenders rushed in.
Too many.
Harald realized it instantly.
The infiltrators had spread chaos well, but now the castle was beginning to react. Organized resistance was finally forming.
"Fall back, we number too few to attempt to fight them here!" Harald shouted.
Despite the order to retreat, it was too late.
Lefford men surged into the courtyard from two directions at once, trapping Harald's group near the burning stable walls while crossbowmen appeared atop the balcony above.
One bolt struck a Northman through the neck immediately.
Another whistled into Harald's shoulder, thankfully only grazing him.
Then the defenders charged.
Harald killed one.
Then another.
But there were too many now.
A mace struck his shield arm hard enough to numb it while another knight shoved him backward toward the stable wall. Smoke rolled thick around them. Horses screamed nearby.
A spearpoint grazed Harald's thigh, slicing through boiled leather.
Another sword slammed against his helm.
He stumbled.
The Lefford knight saw it immediately and surged forward with a roar.
Then something huge crashed into the man from the side.
Not Shadow.
But a halberd.
The heavy axe-blade punched through the knight's chest and tore him backward off his feet entirely.
Ser Desmond Manderly ripped the weapon free with one brutal motion.
Behind him came the Winter Guard.
Northern forces were now pouring in through the eastern gate, when and how it had opened, Harald hadn't the slightest clue, all he knew was that he was thankful that it had.
The First Company smashed into the courtyard like a hammer blow, disciplined northern heavy infantry driving straight through the disorganized defenders with halberds, shields, and heavy axes.
"Forward!" Desmond roared. "Drive the bastards back!"
Harald laughed breathlessly while dragging himself upright.
"You took your time."
Desmond grinned beneath his helm. "You looked busy."
More Winter Guard poured through the smoke behind him now, too many to have only come from the gate, a section of the wall must have crumbled into a breach under the relentless assault of the trebuchets.
The assault was now truly in full swing.
The Lefford men broke quickly after that.
Not all at once, but quick enough for them to lose ground swiftly.
The sight of northern heavy infantry already inside the castle shattered whatever confidence remained among many defenders. Some fled outright toward the keep, while others threw down weapons entirely.
Then Alaric arrived.
Harald saw him through smoke and dust near the shattered eastern yard, advancing with Ice in hand while Tempest and Cinder moved beside him like pale shadows stained red by firelight.
The young king moved through battle like he was made for it.
Not a hint of recklessness, nor misplaced arrogance.
Only sheer controlled violence.
Every strike deliberate. Every movement efficient. Men died around him quickly and brutally while northern soldiers surged forward, shouting his name.
"For the King in the North!"
"For Winterfell!"
"For House Stark!"
Tempest tore a crossbowman from the battlements overhead while Cinder crashed into a knot of defenders trying to reform near the breached gate. Panic spread almost instantly wherever the wolves appeared.
Harald watched one Lefford soldier simply throw down his spear and run.
He was not the only one.
More and more men began either surrendering, or attempting too, only to be slaughtered without another thought.
The younger Stark boys fought nearby, too.
Robb moved confidently now, no longer the uncertain youth Harald remembered from Winterfell's yards. Grey Wind fought beside him, larger and leaner than before, driving men apart while Robb cut them down.
Jon Snow fought quieter but no less deadly near the breach, Ghost almost invisible amid the smoke except for his red eyes and blood-covered white fur.
Osric, his nephew, along with his two sons Edric and Elric Snow, the twins complementing each other like two sides of the same coin, held the left flank with brutal determination while Harlon Stark of White Harbor led a knot of northern spearmen through one burning alleyway toward the inner yards.
They had all grown harder.
War had that effect on young men after all.
Watching as the younger generation of Starks fought and killed their way through the defenders, Harald suddenly found himself feeling old.
Not weak, gods, he would never dare to think himself weak, but just old enough to notice how quickly boys became men once battle started taking pieces from them.
"Harald!"
Dorren emerged through the smoke beside Shadow, blood streaking his armor and face alike.
"The keep," he said.
Harald followed his gaze.
The inner keep still stood untouched beyond the burning yards and shattered outer defenses. Lefford banners still flew above it. Men gathered along its walls, preparing for a final stand.
"Lady Alysanne Lefford's inside," Dorren added. "Her Household guard, too."
Harald nodded once.
Of course they were.
Every castle ended the same way eventually.
The outer walls fell first.
Then the defenders retreated inward and prayed that stone could save them a little longer.
Alaric approached moments later, Ice dark with blood in his hands, while Tempest and Cinder prowled beside him through the smoke.
He stopped beside Harald and Dorren both.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
They simply looked toward the keep ahead while fighting still raged behind them across the burning fortress.
The final stand of the Lefford defenders awaited them.
Lady Alysanne Lefford.
Her knights.
And what remained of the garrison.
Harald wiped blood from his mouth slowly.
"Well, it always comes to a final assault on the keep, huh?" he muttered.
Alaric's ice gray eyes stayed fixed on the keep, only nodding his head in agreement. "Aye, that it does, so let's go and finish this, only then can we embark on our campaign into the lion's heartlands in earnest."
And with that, the three men began to move, the wolves following, as the northern forces slowly but surely overwhelmed the remaining defenders in the castle's inner workings, the keep now standing alone, surrounded by northern wolves hungry for blood.