Blood of Dragons

For the supposedly dauntless rebels in the Kingswood, the greatest test has come. The troops from King’s Landing have marched deep into their treacherous den, and brought with them the battle. The first task, to relieve the holdfast serving as the Wardenry’s base from siege. Exposed by rebel scouts huddled up in the trees, the King’s men had to be speedy and deploy their vanguard to attack; even then, they found the Knight of the Ashes comfortably ahorse in a distant ridge, the bulk of his “army” fleeing. He quickly followed.

Behind remained a makeshift rearguard, still attempting to burn the holdfast’s gates out, and for their tardiness -or brazenness- they tasted the royal swords. ‘Twas a bloody affair, in smoke and muck, but there was no dearth of brave noble knights to cut the vagabonds down. Alongside Ser Terrence of the Kingsguard fought Ser Otho Royce, a goldcloak, Commander of the capital’s River Gate; heirs like Ser Jon Roxton, Ser Joffrey Caswell and Ser Orbert Farman; Ser Balon Selmy, a household knight of His Grace; Ser Omrys Baratheon, the reeve; and others still.

Some of the rabble fell easily, others, even with arms mauled and eyes gouged, would draw strength from wrath and hardly yield to castle training - one might have taken Farman’s life had Roxton not cleaved him. But by the time the Kingslanders’ centre was engaged, it was done. Of the bandits not bereft of life, most soon swung from stout oaks. Ser Terrence, Ser Luthor, and the nobles were free to dabble in the more elegant matter of a battle plan, eventually deciding to make straight for the blackened southwestern parts of the wood. There to hopefully corner and vanquish the foe.

That is the tale told by the slim escort of three hedge knights among those rebels, who had survived and begged for the black, and were consequently taken to the Red Keep’s dungeons, to be dealt with as His Grace pleases. Heartening, but with no guarantees as far as the troops are concerned.

The last reports speak of paths blocked with cut trees and ditches set aflame slowing the advance. A party headed by Caswell, Baratheon, and the Warden of Crackclaw Ser Dermett Corbray, sent to receive and organise supplies shipped up the Wendwater, was violently, if not too successfully, ambushed. Of the meat and other supplies entrusted to Wendwater men, a chunk was lost to fiery rebel arrows raining from the woods. The Kingswood bandits’ resistance is yet to be overwhelmed.

What is actually drying up and dying, amidst the chaos, to the supposed great annoyance of the King, is the once-steady stream of lumber and game, that helps fill the roaring hearths and splendid tables of Maegor’s Holdfast. Evidently, in those blessed royal quarters, there isn’t patience enough to last until the bandit swarm is caught and put to the sword.

Orders were sent to Lords Hayford and Rosby to make up for the dent in His Grace’s comfort from their own lands, post haste. Ravens were dispatched to Crackclaw Point, laden with thick woods, too. As ever, rumours accompany it all…particularly those who claim payment won’t come with near as much speediness as the commands did.