Chapter 63: Bloody Hells, the Gates Open!
Caught off guard, Damian's disguised soldiers swiftly drew their weapons, plunging into a sudden skirmish with the vigilant Ironborn. Disbelief etched the face of the Ironborn who had shouted as a sword impaled him from behind.
The Ironborn soldiers, disoriented, turned vigilant against each other, unable to discern friend from foe. A few seconds passed as the men near the gates struggled with the latches.
"What are you staring at, you cunts! Stop them!" The Ironborn leader's roar cut through the chaos as he rushed to thwart Damian's men. With the threat of betrayal momentarily eliminated, the Ironborn soldiers gathered their courage, screaming as they charged the protective circle formed by Damian's men.
The clang of swords and the echoes of battle reverberated within the courtyard. In the intense and narrow confines near the gates, Damian's men skillfully parried and struck, attempting to overpower the Ironborn defenders. Amidst the struggle, a couple of Ironborns fell, their bodies collapsing in the tumult.
The skirmish near the gates intensified, drowning the soldiers on the wall in a cacophony of confusion and dread. Damian's men fought with determination, aware that the key to victory lay in swiftly opening the gates.
Tragically, one of Damian's men succumbed to overwhelming force, his head sliced off, while another lost an arm in the relentless melee. Yet, in that critical moment, a handful of horses charged into the space between the Ironborn and Damian's men, creating a temporary barrier. When the Ironborn pressed forward again, the horses reared on their hind legs, front hooves raised, displaying hostility toward the Ironborn.
Seizing the moment provided by the intrusion of the horses, Damian's men moved with precision. The distraction granted them a brief respite from the intense melee, allowing them to focus on the critical task at hand—the opening of the gates.
"By the Drowned God, what is happening? Why are the horses acting like this?" one of the Ironborns shouted.
Confusion and uncertainty gripped the Ironborn as their reared horses unexpectedly turned hostile, shielding the infiltrators opening the gates for the mainland army. Fear and superstition spread among the Ironborn soldiers, their attempts to make sense of the situation hampered by the chaos of battle.
With deft hands, they manipulated the latch and bolt, the metallic clinks softened by the ongoing chaos. The horses, now scattering and causing further disarray among the Ironborn defenders, inadvertently provided cover for the covert operation.
The gates groaned in protest as they gradually swung open, revealing the outside world. The Ironborn defenders squinted into the daylight, greeted by the sight of men with shields raised, running towards them amidst the rain of arrows. A mere 20 meters separated the charging force from the now-opened gates.
In under a minute, Damian emerged, leading his contingent through the widened gates. Three elite knights, loyal armed men, and his steadfast friend Jory accompanied him. Dacey, who had followed closely, watched in surprise as the gates yielded to their advance.
"Good work, soldiers!" Damian commended, rushing past his men who had removed their helmets, revealing their Stark-emblazoned white headbands—a precaution against friendly fire.
As Damian spearheaded the charge into Pyke, he surveyed the aftermath of the skirmish—an amalgamation of fallen Ironborn and horses running wild through the courtyard.
With the gates fully open, Damian, now in proximity to the horses, exerted full control over them. His elite knights, friends, and loyal companions followed suit, launching into the midst of the gawking and retreating Ironborn. The horses, guided by Damian, created chaos among the Ironborn ranks, disrupting their attempts to regroup. The surprise and disarray among the defenders played into the hands of Damian's calculated assault.
. . .
On the makeshift observation platform erected to oversee the assault on Pyke, Lord Tywin Lannister, King Robert Baratheon, and Lord Eddard Stark stood side by side. The din of clashing weapons and the distant roar of the sea filled the air as their forces charged towards the Ironborn stronghold. The three men, each a seasoned commander in his own right, watched the unfolding chaos below.
As the initial wave of soldiers surged forward, Tywin's keen gaze caught sight of Damian Stark leading his contingent directly towards the gates. A furrow creased his brow; it was an unconventional move to target the gates before engaging the defenders on the walls. Tywin pondered whether Damian possessed a strategic insight beyond his years or if he was merely a young, brash lord, acting without proper consideration.
"Interesting choice, going straight for the gates," Tywin remarked with a masked jibe, glancing at Robert and Ned. The skepticism lingered in his tone, unsure of Damian's rationale.
Robert squinted at the unfolding scene, grunting in agreement. "A bold move. Let's see what the lad has in mind."
Eddard, though stoic, shared the uncertainty etched on his companions' faces. he had no idea about his brother's plans and hoped it wasn't anything stupid.
The trio exchanged puzzled glances, attempting to decipher Damian's intentions. Was it a tactical brilliance they failed to grasp, or the impulsive charge of a young lord seeking glory?
Their confusion persisted until the moment Damian and his group, now nearing the gates, executed a seamless maneuver. The gates, to the collective surprise of the observing leaders, began to open just as Damian and his two hundred men reached the proximity.
The gates of Pyke swung open, and a hushed astonishment fell over the senior nobles on the platform. The breeze carried a perplexing mix of clashing swords, the shouts of battle, and the distant sound of crashing waves. The open gates presented a surreal scene, a stark deviation from the expected resistance.
Tywin Lannister, Robert Baratheon, and Eddard Stark stood frozen, their minds racing to comprehend the unexpected turn of events. The expressions on their faces mirrored the collective bewilderment shared by the other senior nobles around them.
"Why in the seven hells would the gates open for them?" Tywin muttered, unable to conceal his puzzlement. The perplexity echoed in the eyes of his counterparts, Robert and Ned, as they exchanged questioning glances.
Other senior nobles, veterans of countless battles, shared in the silent confusion. Countless questions filled the air. What strategy had Damian employed to prompt the opening of the gates? Was it a betrayal from within Pyke's walls, or had Damian somehow coerced the defenders into this unusual move?
It took a few heartbeats for the shock to loosen its grip on the trio of leaders. The tension was broken by a senior noble, his voice rising above the murmurs of confusion.
"Bloody hells! The gates are open!" he exclaimed, his proclamation cutting through the perplexity that hung in the air. The realization echoed across the platform, prompting a collective gasp from the assembled commanders.
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