293AC
He stared down at the report, which had been brought up to his Howda by one of the messengers, and rubbed at the space between his eyes.
'A pox on you and your army, Baelor' he grumbled underneath his breath, placing the letter to the side and glancing out of the window of his chamber towards the river, and on towards the Westerosi lines.
His fellow Tiger, Baelor, was apparently disinterested in his request for reinforcements, preferring instead to pointlessly make camp around Myr and bide his time.
This wouldn't be an issue of course if he wasn't having such trouble crossing the Rhoyne.
The great river was navigable at precious few points, and the cavalry of the Westerosi army was quicker than his own foot, he had greater numbers true, but that meant almost nothing when trying to force a bridgehead or ford a river.
Still, it seemed he would have to do it anyway, a dangerous gambit given that he didn't know the location of the main Westerosi army.
'It's like fighting the fucking Dothraki' he grumbled to himself, letting his old bones rest for a minute, 'and thinking in that context our situation only gets worse.'
The Horse-lords could be beaten true, lured into traps and slaughtered by stake or by the arrow, but not on an open field, and not when they kept to a distance, remaining unknown. Many armies of the Free Cities had been drawn out and crushed by the screamers in such a scenario.
Numbers meant nothing, and if the Triarch still had hair, he might pull it out in frustration.
This was not to his instinct, Maegor knew, fiery young generals who got themselves killed liked to attack, but he had always been a calmer sort, preferring to lead the enemy into their doom, rather than to meet them head-on.
It had served him well as a Triarch, but it would not suffice in this situation.
No, he would need to make an advance, to force a path across the Rhoyne, then he could find terrain that better suited him, but where to make the crossing?
The easiest was Selhorys, the bridge there was old Valyrian Dragonglass, and wide enough for two elephants to cross aside each other. It could handle his army.
He wished he had used sellswords or some other force at the grey-waste now, rather than the hoplites, they would be excellent in this situation, but he would just have to use his foot instead, their spears were not as long, but they could fight in closer formation than the Sellswords normally could. Once they got a good beachhead established on the opposite bank he could move the elephants over, and that ought to dissuade the enemy army from any further advances.
Westerosi horses were not trained around elephants after all, and they would be terrified of the creatures.
Still, he could not help but feel that there was something he might be missing.
He flipped his map open again, but found no traces of whatever was sitting in his mind, he grumbled once more, rolling his options about in his head.
No, the bridge was the best course, that was undeniable, he would just need to be cautious and sensible about his approach.
He rang a small bell that sat by his right knee at all times, and one of the servants came running, approaching him.
"Honorable Triarch?" The boy asked, "what is it that you desire?"
"Have the horn blown, we shall be moving again soon."
"Yes, Honorable Triarch, should I give a direction?"
"South, we will be going to Selhorys," he said after a moment, deciding that the army ought to know now. "And call the commanders here as well, we have plans to organize."
The servant bowed quickly, then made his way to the ladder at the side of the Great Elephant.
Maegor stood, turning his gaze to look out towards the enemy camp once again, all bright colors and banners stables for their horses.
He knew there was another one, larger and more dangerous, somewhere behind those hills.
Both would die, eventually, at least.