章節 17: Chapter 15 - Downward Spiral
Chapter XV: Downward Spiral
2 BC
Sunspear
After the Battle of the Lemonwood Plains, things were going from bad to worse for House Martell.
Quentyn Sand and Nymor Martell were performing their utmost in battle, conducting continuous raids day and night upon the Rada army and their supply lines. Though they had some successes here and there, mostly against greener and more inexperienced officers on Rada's side, they were quick to adapt and combat their ambushes with greater ferocity.
Adding insult to injury was their fast-paced march towards Sunspear, ignoring every other fort and town that did not lie on their marching path. While it was understandable the garrisons could not match such a huge army on their own - a fact that grated on the nobles' pride and egos - it was also an ominous sign of a looming eclipse over the sunburst, as if the proud Martells were doomed to be buried in darkness.
The Rada army's momentum was unstoppable, and it was not long before they managed to reach the Greenblood Reefs and torch Planky Town to ash, capturing the nearby citadel as a forward outpost. Its paltry garrison was quickly overrun, the few survivors running to bring yet more bad news to their overlords.
Last they heard, before House Rada departed for Sunspear, they left behind lawmakers who were tasked with rehashing the local laws in accordance with House Rada's code of law. A terrible insult to their pride and another sign of Rada's ambitions of conquest.
Once again, the throne room of Sunspear was in disarray, countless nobles bickering and whispering among themselves as troubling reports came in one after the other. None of them could ever think of surrendering to Arin Rada, yet neither did they have much hope of crushing this upstart rebel. With each report of defeat, their hopes of victory sank further and further.
In the midst of this, Meria Martell continued to be bedridden and absent from court, and an increasingly stressed Deria was struggling to uphold herself as the symbol of Martell authority. It was as much a show of vanity as it was a vain attempt at asserting dominion against House Rada.
"Any word from the navy?" Deria questioned, eagerly hoping for better news elsewhere.
Deria called it a navy, but it was really more a hodgepodge of various pirate factions the Martells hired to counter the Rada Navy, lacking the cohesion and organisation of a standing navy.
The messenger's next words crushed her hopes.
"They have suffered a crushing defeat; both our fleets and the Stepstone Pirates [1] we hired have lost more than half their ships in several engagements over the past two weeks," He reported, "House Rada's new ship models are far larger, faster and more durable than any ship we've ever encountered, and our fleet has sustained heavy damage in just a few skirmishes."
"How bad is the damage?" Deria questioned, "Surely a few scorpions here and there should not inconvenience us so terribly?"
"Unfortunately, their scorpions are more accurate and have a further range capable of targeting sails, rigging and sailors, and they use jars of fire to immolate our ships, according to our mariners," The messenger continued, "And they say the waters were behaving erratically; ships capsized due to waves overturning them, and even lashing out like mythical krakens, smashing them to splinters."
"What? But that's impossible! That is outside common sense!" Deria said in disbelief, "Such things should not happen unless it's magic!"
"But no house in all Dorne has any magic users who manipulate water! And the only people capable of doing that are the Water Wizards among the Orphans of the Greenblood!" A noble pointed out, disbelief rife in his eyes.
"Wait, Water Wizards…? How could…?" Deria muttered.
And it instantly dawned on them the reason behind these supernatural occurrences in the Greenblood River.
"...Water Wizards," Deria cursed, "To think Arin was hiding such a weapon…"
Deria sighed heavily, gaining more reasons to mentally curse Arin to the Seven Hells.
"What about boarding tactics? Have our admirals at least tried to get in close and board the ships, so they cannot cause as much damage?" Deria asked, a sinking feeling in her gut.
"They have, My Lady," The messenger nodded sadly, "Ceramic pots ignited the boarding ships once they shattered. Tucosar Fire, the enemy calls it."
Deria fell on her throne as another headache afflicted her mind.
Defeat after defeat… and too little success to show for it…
Doubt was creeping into her heart, and the merciless expectations of a leader forced her to quash it under an iron boot.
"Where are our fleets now?" Deria asked.
"...They are scattered, and lack the strength to contest the Rada Navy, who now have complete control of the Greenblood River and our coastline," The messenger finished, "And with our food imports cut off, I fear that our rations will only last us one more day."
This soul-crushing news was the last thing they wanted to hear; with the conquest of House Dalt's lands, thousands of refugees were sent fleeing [2] towards Sunspear who quickly crammed themselves into the castle with little regard for each other, just trying to seek safe sanctuary. With these refugees quickly eating their way through the castle's food supplies and the latest food shipments cut off, it was only a matter of time before disorder settled in.
Yet fate had no mercy for House Martell in its darkest hour, for another messenger burst in, frantically panicking as he quickly fell to a knee.
"My Lady, the Rada Army is here!" He shouted, "Sunspear [3] is completely surrounded!"
IIOII
Sunspear, ancestral seat of House Martell since its construction, once the site of a minor squat fort that held little to its name. By the hands of Rhoynar architects, it rose from being a squat castle to being the most magnificent citadel in all of Dorne. The three-tiered city was protected by rings of massive, thick walls capable of withstanding sustained trebuchet bombardment, and domes and spires towered high in the heavens. The Dromund, a long protrusion of rock jutting out like a sharpened stake, served more as an observatory deck for the sake of hobbies - birdwatching and merrymaking.
And now, it was to bear witness to a siege that heralded the end of an era.
Deria looked in shock at the assembled formations, an ocean of troops as far as the eye could see. With Sunspear now surrounded, they would have to prepare for a siege.
"You were with my father, yes? Where are Quentyn and my father?" Deria questioned.
"I-I do not know, My Lady," Said a soldier, one of Nymor's closest aides, "My party was simply ordered to retreat to Sunspear when our last battle went awry."
Arin Rada came forward on horseback, stopping just short of bow-range from the walls of Sunspear. Besides him trotted a lone man, who held two sacks on his hip.
"I am Arin Rada, Lord of Ifarahoy and leader of the rebel cause!" He bellowed, voice calm and defiant, "I am here to deliver a message to all of Sunspear!"
Countless soldiers and nobles whispered among themselves, and Deria clenched her fists tighter.
"Nymor Martell and Quentyn Sand are dead!" He continued, sending a wave of gasps across the audience, "House Martell has lost thousands of troops with nothing to show for it, and each day they continue their hopeless fight is another day you poor people of Sunspear have to suffer! I promise you all, regardless of House Martell's decision to continue the fight or not, I will not touch a hair upon the people of this ancient, glorious citadel! I repeat, neither I nor my troops will harm the citizens of Sunspear! If you desist or retreat, we shall let you go without any reprisal!"
The man beside Arin took out the contents of the sacks, showing the bloody severed heads of Quentyn Sand and Nymor Martell.
Instantly, there was a wave of harsh whispers among the gathered populace, doubt and question in their eyes. Deria felt tears streaming down her face, crumpling to her knees, but that sorrow belied her burning rage, and she stood up and turned to face the audience of refugees.
"Quiet, do not listen to the rebel's drivel!" Deria ordered.
Such was the fiery rage in her voice that the refugees were subdued. Yet the seeds were planted, and with so little food left and the Rada troops remaining out of range of the castle walls, their options were next to non-existent.
"I give you all until tomorrow to make your decision!" Arin finished, "May the Mother Rhoyne have mercy on you all!"
And with that, Arin turned around and left, not waiting to hear anything from the enemy side.
Deria slammed a fist down on the crenelations, red-faced and ready to implode with anger. Silently, she turned and left, simmering with indignation.
IIOII
Outskirts of Sunspear
Night came, and the troops of House Rada were resting in preparation for the next day, anticipating the climax of the rebellion.
The Cataphracts in particular won many glories against the troops of House Martell, and the infantry outdid themselves in their first battle with Quentyn Sand and in subsequent battles, their coordination and fighting prowess the key to victory. As the heroes of House Rada, they were treated to extra meat and liquor portions for tonight's banquet.
"Hey, Felix, wanna bet?"
Felix simply gave his friend Doran the stink-eye, and Doran simply raised his hands in placation.
"It was just a harmless suggestion, okay?" Doran said, "No need to be so uppity 'bout it."
"I'm uppity because I lost so many bets to you," Felix pointed out, "So there."
"Okay, I get it, either I'm good at gambling or your luck just sucks ass," Doran quipped.
"You bloody fucker…" Doran deadpanned.
"Seriously though, I don't think House Martell's gonna survive this," Felix stated, "They're fucked with no way to get back up, all thanks to our Lord and master."
"All hail Arin Rada," Doran raised his hands in mock worship, "Down with House Martell."
Doran spat to the side.
"Fucking House Martell, what in Mother Rhoyne's name did they ever do for us Dornish, aside from 'uniting' Dorne for the first time in history? Kept things the same, killed our heritage and even abandoning their own heritage? Princess Nymeria'd be rolling in her grave."
"First time I've seen you this upset," Felix stated, "You're always so cheery and cheeky."
"Yeah, I know," Doran sighed, "I remember losing me pa and ma to some border skirmish between House Ardera and House Qeffar, but it was just me and my sis against the whole world. Fucking nobles always squabbled, House Martell always loves to play mediator, never did anything. Now Arin comes along, he gives the nobles the short end of the stick. Now that was the best fucking day of my life, hearing that news."
"I admit I was rather apprehensive of his… methods, and of the rumours surrounding him," Felix added, "And yet, now that I think of it, it's precisely because of his methods that we don't have to worry about these nobles anymore."
"Always trust those who can act, rather than let themselves be controlled," Doran finished, "In any case, once Sunspear falls I'm going to celebrate - drink myself under the table."
"Mind if I join in?" Felix asked.
"Be my guest," Doran invited smilingly.
IIOII
Streets of Sunspear
Compared to the joyous mood of House Rada's troops, House Martell's were sullen and depressed, an air of defeat hanging above their heads. With food supplies dwindling, the officers were forced to stretch their rations to the very limit, the refugees doing the same.
In fact, many soldiers had to move in and break up fights between the refugees and the soldiers themselves, which only dampened morale further.
"This is terrible… Who would've thought that we'd end up like this?"
It was still hard for many to come to terms with House Martell's rapid downfall, its power and authority collapsing at shocking speeds incomprehensible to their minds. Aside from some true loyalists, many were simply conscripted to fight for House Martell; what rights did they have as mere Smallfolk? At most they lived and died at the nobles' discretion, and this time was no different.
"Fuckers down there are enjoying their feast, and we're stuck with this measly porridge. I'd kill for something better - pickles, maybe roast pork."
Oberyn grumbled as he scooped the ghastly, water-thin porridge into his mouth, barely satisfied by the non-existent taste and lack of a hearty meal. He sighed, looking at the joyous bonfires of House Rada with no small amount of envy.
"Our rations are running out, and tomorrow the people will be rioting. That Arin… he really knows how to hit us where it hurts."
Why else would he say they had a day to consider their decision to surrender? Most likely those Hashashins of his were already inside the city, feeding him information and waiting to spread the word, and once the refugees learn there was no more food, they will panic and attempt to break out of the city to save themselves. And since the refugees outnumbered the garrison severalfold…
What a nasty way to fight a war… But I'm an old man, and I can't run anywhere. If I die, I die.
With such morbid thoughts in his head, he finished his bowl of porridge and went back to organising his troops.
Further away, a lone sentry shivered as he stood watch, his stomach growling and his complexion pale and haggard.
"Fucking desert cold… those damn lucky bastards…"
Edgar looked between the encamped Rada troops and the sleeping refugees, and shook his head vehemently, anger and rage bursting in his heart.
"I ain't staying and dying for some 'royals' and shit, they can rot in the Hells for all I care…!" He muttered to himself, "Maybe tomorrow, I'll sneak out with the refugees and hopefully, manage to get my freedom. Might die out there, but it's better than dying in this tomb of theirs."
The die was cast, and now there was only the way forward.
IIOII
The next day came, and as expected, House Martell refused to surrender. Deria issued a declaration in writing to Arin, outlining all manner of litanies of curses and swears - a strongly worded message they will never capitulate.
Arin simply accepted it, allowing the messenger to go unharmed. However, he merely smiled, knowing what would happen next.
"My Lord, there is smoke rising from the city!" Sainalia reported.
Arin merely shrugged, "That's the end of them; once the civilians start leaving via the gates, let them through. Once they're fully gone, we move in."
"As you order, My Lord," Sainalia bowed.
"Huang Xue, get the troops ready," Arin continued, "It's time we end this farce once and for all."
"Music to my ears, My Lord," Huang Xue smiled.
There were shouts of pain and violence audible from a distance, and the smoke continued to rise like towers leading to the heavens. House Rada did not stir, content to wait out the ensuing bloodshed in Sunspear as they casually polished their spears and kicked some sand for the fun of it. The Hydromancers, however, took the liberty of bombarding Sunspear, and such was the damage dealt that there was great creaking and cracking, and the Dromund [4] itself came crashing into the ocean.
Soon, the time came; the gates of Sunspear burst open, and streams of refugees came pouring out of the city with whatever weapons they could scrounge. Men, women and children, young and old, all in tattered clothes, charged at full speed towards the Rada soldiers.
With a wave from Huang Xue's fan, the troops parted to show gaps in their formations. The refugees showed their thanks, charging past them towards their freedom. Soon, the stream dried up, and the floodgates did not look to be closing anytime.
"Move in and take the city," Arin ordered.
Just like that, Rada troops moved in for the kill. Unlike the open desert, the city of Sunspear was a dangerous urban battlefield requiring one to be alert for potential ambushes at every angle, at every street corner. The Martells exploited this to their full advantage, and for every inch they took they lost close to a hundred bodies.
What mitigated losses was Sainalia's Hashashins, using crossbows and poison darts and all manner of weapons at their disposal, and their natural agility allowed them to scale walls and roofs, dropping down on assailants and stabbing them with hidden blades [5] on their wrists.
The charge of House Rada was like the rising tide, swallowing everything in its path, even the very sun itself. No matter how valiant and energetic their last stand, House Martell's men dropped like flies.
By the end of the day, the streets of Sunspear ran red with blood.
Arin entered the throne room, the roof cracked open and the corpses of slain nobles littering the hallway like macabre abstract art - a tomb that he created with his own hands. Looking at the carnage and broken stonework, he turned his eyes towards the Sunburst Throne, a dark burnished seat of teak. It cast a dark, long shadow as the sunset rays bathed the throne room with the hue of blood, a hue that Arin felt already bathed him down to his very soul.
He walked slowly towards the throne, eyes fixed on the ancestral seat of Princess Nymeria, and drifted a hand across the seasoned wood.
"I wonder how you're feeling, seeing your childrens' legacy extinguished by my hand…" Arin muttered, "Do you hate them, or grieve for them? Actually, do you despise me for what I've done?"
Arin heaved a heavy, solemn sigh.
"Maybe I'll never know."
He then took his seat upon the Sunburst Throne, and an immense weight settled upon his body and soul.
I can never hate you, and yet I grieve for what could have been but never was…
Arin cast glances around, trying to find the source of the whispers.
"My Lord?" Huang Xue questioned.
"...It's nothing," Arin reassured, "Find Meria, Deria and her children. If they're alive, bring them to me. If they're dead… give them their last rites as per Rhoynish custom."
"As you command," Sainalia bowed.
[1] Stepstone Pirates - The Stepstones - a chain of islands between Dorne and Essos - a haven of pirates available to the highest bidder. These pirates have a strong seafaring tradition and have always been a menace to merchant convoys for as long as they have existed.
[2] This came to be known as the locust strategy, aiming to eat away at the enemy's food supplies and force a retreat. It is a risky gamble, because if the invading army fails to conquer a city in time, their own food supplies will run out and thus they will likely suffer defeat.
[3] Sunspear - After Rada's Rebellion, Sunspear was a ruined citadel, a monument to Martell hubris. It would later be renowned as the 'Royal Grave' due to being the site of House Martell's total demise.
[4] Dromund - A large rock protrusion and one of the defining features of Sunspear, named such due to its shape resembling a dromund, a type of ship. The broken rock would be lifted from the sea and quarried into construction material.
[5] Hidden Blades - The exact kind of Hidden Blade used in the Assassin's Creed series. It became a prominent, defining weapon in the Hashashins' arsenal.
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