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Chapter 100
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 21:21:43 +0000 UTCThe Bloody Gate stood like an immovable sentinel, wedged between the towering cliffs that flanked the only pass into the Vale through the Mountains of the Moon. Its defenses consisted of two watchtowers clinging to the rock face, a sealed arching bridge of gray stone connecting them, and layers of crenellations reinforcing both structures. From afar, it appeared as though a colossal boulder had dropped from the heavens to completely block the narrow approach into the Vale. With just one glance, Aegor was reminded of an ancient pass from his previous life: the Sword Gate of China, famously described as a place where “one man could hold the pass against ten thousand.”
The Sword Gate and the Bloody Gate bore striking similarities in how they choked the narrow passageway between mountains. However, unlike the Sword Gate, which stood in the middle of a valley and commanded the road to Shu, the Bloody Gate had no open ground around it. The approach was relatively level, but the gate itself left no gaps whatsoever. If the defenders refused to open it, not even a cat or a dog could pass through. While both structures were marvels of military engineering, Aegor couldn’t easily judge which was harder to conquer.
Regardless, the Bloody Gate deserved its reputation as Westeros’s most impregnable stronghold. With defenders prepared and entrenched, how could anyone hope to breach it?
Aegor harbored doubts but refrained from making assertions in an area outside his expertise. All he could do was observe the battle unfold—and, as a “Night’s Watchman on campaign,” he was under no obligation to participate in the fighting. Even if the entire Buckwell contingent, to whom his safety had been entrusted, charged forward and were slaughtered to the last man, no one would demand or permit Aegor to take the field.
Such was one of the few benefits of being in the Night’s Watch.
…
As the sun peeked over the peaks of the Mountains of the Moon, the army finished its breakfast, and the haze of cooking fires began to dissipate into the morning air. At last, the assault on the Bloody Gate commenced.
The first to move were the siege weapons. During their days encamped at the valley’s entrance, the army had been busy assembling a host of siege engines, particularly large trebuchets. Now, these massive weapons were wheeled into position. Lined up in a row, their sheer number was limited only by the confined space of the valley entrance. If the ground had been more open, the combined resources of the six assembled kingdoms might have fielded a thousand siege engines, enough to reduce the Bloody Gate to rubble.
At the barked orders of their officers, the ballistae unleashed their massive bolts, and the trebuchets swung into action. Stone projectiles arced into the air, ranging from smaller stones the size of a man’s head to massive boulders that would take several men to lift. The bolts fired by the ballistae proved largely ineffective, but the stones were another matter. They soared through the clear sky, crashing down upon the walls and battlements of the Bloody Gate. Those that struck defenders left no time for screams, reducing flesh and bone to pulp and splattering blood and viscera across the stone. Others smashed against the walls, sending sprays of rock chips into the air and creating the illusion that the entire Bloody Gate was shaking under the impact.
The defenders retaliated, but their efforts were woefully insufficient. Their counterattacks lacked the range and intensity to pose a significant threat to the trebuchet crews. Though the Bloody Gate’s narrow approach made it easy to defend, it also limited the defenders’ ability to deploy their larger siege engines. The attackers’ superior firepower had all but silenced the defenders.
The King’s forces weren’t hurling only stones. Smoke began to rise from behind the Bloody Gate as fires broke out among the defenders’ ranks. After several volleys, the defenders were forced to take cover, their counterattacks dwindling to a feeble trickle.
…
The sight was undeniably impressive, but Aegor couldn’t help but ask himself: What next?
The Bloody Gate wasn’t impregnable just because it blocked the valley with a solid wall. The builders and their successors had fortified the structure with solid battlements and towers, creating a defensive system as thick and immovable as a small mountain. Even if the walls were breached, the rubble might block the pass even more effectively, turning the path into an even greater obstacle for the advancing army.
Soon enough, Aegor’s question was answered.
Once the trebuchets had inflicted enough damage on the defenders’ fortifications and silenced their counterattacks, the first wave of archers and crossbowmen advanced. While the siege engines continued their relentless bombardment, the archers marched forward in neat ranks, stopping within range to loose volleys of arrows at the Bloody Gate.
This looks… familiar, Aegor thought, momentarily stunned. Is this fire-and-movement tactics? He had expected Robert’s strategy to consist of little more than human wave assaults—soldiers swarming the walls with ladders while the defenders tried to push them back. Yet here they were, using firepower to suppress the enemy before advancing. It seemed his assumptions had been wrong.
So much for the dramatized idiocy of war from television.
Just as Aegor was marveling at the unexpected sophistication, drums thundered, and shouts filled the air.
…
The Bloody Gate, situated at the narrowest point of the pass into the Vale, offered little room for the attackers to maneuver. Though the combined army numbered over eighty thousand—including soldiers and camp followers—no more than a thousand men could assault the gate at any given time. For the vast majority of the army, this battle would be little more than a spectacle, their role limited to shouting encouragement from a distance.
To the sound of cheers and cries from the onlookers, a force of several hundred men surged out from the camp. At their center was a massive siege ram, mounted on a twenty-meter-long, gold-plated battering ram carriage. Some soldiers pushed the ram, while others marched alongside, ready to swing the ram or replace the wounded as casualties mounted.
The carriage was equipped with fixed shields to protect its crew, and it quickly rolled past the trebuchets and through a gap created by the advancing archers and crossbowmen. From there, it entered the narrow approach to the Bloody Gate.
The defenders, realizing the ram’s approach, erupted into a flurry of activity. Shouts and orders rang out from their ranks, and men scrambled to the battlements to launch a desperate counterattack. Stones rained down, and arrows fell like a mist over the battlefield. The attackers returned fire, their arrows suppressing the defenders and filling the air with death. The defenders’ arrows, meanwhile, focused on the siege ram, peppering its shields until they bristled with shafts like a porcupine.
The narrowness of the pass was a double-edged sword. It allowed the defenders to concentrate their fire on the ram but also made it impossible for them to deploy more than a limited number of men or weapons. Meanwhile, the attackers’ overwhelming firepower was more than sufficient to suppress the defenders’ positions, keeping them pinned behind the walls.
As the ram drew closer, the trebuchets fell silent to avoid friendly fire. Under the gaze of tens of thousands, the siege ram reached the gate. Despite the defenders’ desperate efforts—dropping flaming barrels of oil and heavy stones—it began its work.
Boom.
Boom.
Each strike of the ram echoed like thunder, its dull, resonant sound seeming to reverberate through the very bones of the onlookers. The cheers and shouts from the soldiers watching fell silent, replaced by a tense, collective stillness. Even Aegor held his breath, as though the entire world had shrunk to the rhythm of the battering ram slamming into the gates.
