Chapter 25. Clash.
Wend Town lay downstream of the Blue Fork, an unremarkable town between Seagard and Riverrun that lived from timber, furs, and the stubborn belief that being small made it less likely to be noticed. Arthur arrived in the afternoon with the remaining Rangers. The town had muddy streets, houses of wood and stone, smoke rising from low chimneys, and the smell of livestock thick in the air. It was not rich. It was not important. Naturally, that would not save it.
They meant only to refill food and water, rest briefly, and continue toward Seagard.
Arthur was bargaining with a shopkeeper over grain when the shouting began outside.
"Lannisters! The Lannister army is coming!"
The town collapsed into chaos at once. Women screamed. Children cried. Men grabbed bundles, tools, and whatever weapons they owned. Some ran into houses. Others tried to flee toward the fields. Panic moved faster than reason, as usual.
Arthur rushed to the street corner, climbed a ladder against a barn, and looked east. A troop of cavalry was approaching over the low hills. Around thirty riders, armor flashing in the afternoon sun, red cloaks moving behind them. Their formation was too loose for a main force. Scouts, raiders, or a vanguard. For Wend Town, the difference was academic. Thirty armed riders could ruin the place thoroughly enough.
Arthur jumped down. "Kator! Organize the defense. Block the main street with anything that can stop a horse. Carts, barrels, doors, firewood. Move."
Kator was one of the first Clan Warriors promoted under Arthur, sturdy, calm, and blessed with the ability to understand orders without turning them into a philosophical discussion. He shoved a panicking townsman out of the way and began roaring commands.
"Battania! Clan Warriors, shields and spears, first line. Raiders, javelins behind them. Archers, roofs and windows. Everyone else, drag obstacles into the street."
The soldiers moved quickly. Carts were overturned. Barrels rolled into place. Door panels, bundles of firewood, crates, and broken fencing were piled into a crude barricade across the main road. Ten Clan Warriors formed behind it with hide-covered shields and spears. Six Raiders stood in the second line with javelins ready. Horgos led four Old Wolf Warriors and two Young Wolf Warriors up to rooftops and attic windows, bows already strung.
Arthur stood in the small square with Ena, Beland, Tevet, and the reserve. His eyes moved between the barricade, the side alleys, and the oncoming riders. The defense was rough, but the street was narrow and the enemy was moving too confidently. That helped. Arrogance was a kind of free terrain advantage.
"They are here!" someone shouted.
The cavalry entered the town without slowing. The lead rider raised a sword and shouted, expecting speed and fear to break the defense before it formed.
Arthur lifted his hand.
"Loose!"
Six arrows fell from the roofs. Three of the leading riders were hit. One fell screaming from the saddle. Two horses panicked and smashed into the buildings along the street. The riders behind kept coming, pressed forward by momentum and stupidity.
"Kator!"
"Hold!"
The first horses crashed into the shields and barricade with a sound like a wall being struck by thunder. Spears thrust out from behind the shields, driving into horse bellies, legs, and gaps in armor. Men and animals fell together. The riders behind slammed into the bodies and obstacles, their charge dying in the narrow street.
"Javelins!"
The Raiders threw from the second line. Short spears punched into trapped riders and horses at close range. More screams rose. The Lannister charge became a knot of men, animals, shields, and blood.
"Archers, fire at will!"
Arrows fell steadily from roofs and windows. Once the cavalry lost momentum, they became targets. Some tried to dismount and fight on foot, but the narrow street punished them. The Clan Warriors held the line. Raiders stabbed through openings. Archers shot from above. A few Lannister men tried to push down side paths, but Arthur sent Beland and Tevet to cut them off before they could turn the defense.
The fight lasted less than half an hour.
The riders who survived dragged themselves back out of Wend Town, leaving bodies, wounded men, and dead horses behind. They regrouped at a distance, but did not charge again. They had learned something. Not enough to make them wise, perhaps, but enough to make them cautious.
Arthur did not order a pursuit.
He counted losses first. Three Clan Warriors dead. Five wounded, two seriously. Among the enemies left behind were men wearing Lannister colors and others in mismatched leather and mail. Mercenaries, minor vassal men, or raiders hired to make the Riverlands bleed in small cuts.
Beland checked the bodies and returned. "Raiding party. Not regular main force. Good horses, decent equipment, mixed armor. Likely sent to burn villages, gather supplies, and spread panic."
Arthur looked toward the hills. His face tightened.
If Lannister raiders were already near Wend Town, then the Riverlands' eastern defense had gaps. The Westerlands forces had pushed deeper than he liked. Holding Wend Town would be foolish. Low walls, wooden houses, too many civilians, no depth. A place to die slowly and accomplish little.
"We cannot stay here," Arthur said. "Take supplies, gather the wounded, and move northwest."
"Where?" Ena asked.
"Stony Sept."
Ena frowned. "The ruins?"
"Yes. Old walls, stone foundations, and broken structures. Easier to defend than this place. We shelter there first, then decide."
They moved fast. The wounded were loaded onto carts and horses. Limited supplies were taken. Townspeople stared at them with the desperate hope of people who wanted saviors and had instead received men who knew when to leave. Arthur disliked that look. It made the correct choice feel filthy.
The Rangers retreated by the west road.
The Lannister riders followed. They harassed from a distance, firing arrows, testing flanks, launching short charges whenever the road narrowed or the wounded slowed the column. The Battanians fought while retreating, shields covering the injured, archers answering from behind carts and stones. They lost two more Clan Warriors before finally shaking the pursuers near the broken ground before Stony Sept.
They reached the ruins before dark.
Stony Sept had been abandoned for generations, but stone remembered better than wood. The outer walls were broken, yet sections still stood. Foundations marked the old streets. Weeds grew through stone. The remains of buildings formed a rough enclosed space, and near the center stood a hall intact enough to shelter wounded men.
Arthur ordered the wounded placed inside and sentries posted on every usable wall section. Only after the camp took shape did he climb the highest remaining tower and look back toward Wend Town.
Flames rose in the distance.
The town was burning.
Arthur watched without speaking, his fists closing slowly at his sides. War was not a game, not a system prompt, not a clean exchange of numbers and rewards. It was houses burning, children screaming, grain turning to smoke, and ordinary people punished because highborn men wanted leverage.
And this war had only begun.
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