Ironborn's surrender messenger rolled and crawled out of sight, and a burst of wild laughter came from the city wall.
Tytos. Blackwood didn't smile, he just slowly pressed his palm on his lower abdomen, counterattacking Seaguard and leaving a wound that was deep enough to show the bone.
He couldn't let others know, so he could only sew it up hastily. At this moment, through the plate armor and several layers of shirts, Zheng He's wound was aching faintly, as if it was gnawing at the bone.
"Master Tytos, are you okay?" Raymun. Darry next to him cast a concerned look, and he saw a flash of paleness flash across Tytos's face.
Tytos. Blackwood immediately put down his hands and straightened his strong waist, as if he was just sorting out his armor:
"I'm fine."
Just a few words cut off the concerns and doubts of the people on the city wall.
Raymun. Darry didn't ask any more questions, but just followed him and looked outside the city. The dark Ironborn camp was like gangrene on the bones, surrounding the dilapidated castle.
His voice was low, as if he was stating an obituary that had already been written, "There are less than 600 people in the city who can still take up arms, including those who are disabled."
"This morning, the last rations were distributed, and our arrows were all shot yesterday."
"This Oldstones has been abandoned for thousands of years. The southern city wall has collapsed long ago. We can only barely block the gap with gravel and wood."
"The two thousand Ironborn outside the city only need to launch a decent attack.
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He didn't say any more, but the outcome of everyone was self-evident, they would definitely die, and the aura of despair enveloped everyone's heart.
Tytos. Blackwood listened with no expression on his face. He just stared silently at the sea monster flag flying in the distance at the Ironborn camp.
After a long time, he turned his head, with a trace of inquiry in his cloudy eyes, and suddenly spoke, asking an irrelevant question, "Master Raymun, I have always wanted to ask you."
"At the time of War of the Usurper, because your Darry family was loyal to Targaryen, nearly half of its land was cut off by Baratheon and House Tully after the war, causing great losses in strength and property."
"Why do you want to come back with me?"
"This is not your war. When you learn that Seaguard is besieged, you can just like other smart people and take your army directly back to Darry."
Ironborn outside the city began to shout rhythmically and beat the shield with the back of an ax, as if playing the opening song for the coming massacre. The soldiers on the city wall listened to the noisy drum beat as if it was a death knell for themselves. They forgot that they had just laughed at the Ironborn messenger, and now they were shaking their heads in fear.
Raymun. Darry listened to the noise with a calm expression. He did not avoid Tytos's gaze. Instead, his face showed a calm calm. "I am not fighting for Robert. Baratheon."
"Nor Hoster. Tully for Riverrun."
He paused, looking away from Tytos. Blackwood, and looked at the devastated land, and at the trembling Riverlands refugees who had followed them and hid under the city wall.
"I fight for Riverlands."
Tytos. Blackwood's weathered eyes widened instantly. He looked at Raymun. Darry and showed a rare sincere smile. He stretched out his calloused right hand and pressed heavily on Raymun. Darry's shoulder.
He spoke one word at a time, "You are a good person, Raymun, a truly good person."
"My friend."
With a "gift" sound, Tytos. Blackwood pulled out the House Blackwood ancient long sword that had been passed down for hundreds of years from his waist. The Weirwood lines carved on the sword were still clear under the gloomy sky.
His voice was not loud, but it drowned out the noise outside the city at this moment. "Then, let us fight side by side."
"Then... let's fight and die together with glory."
Raymun. Darry also smiled, and he also pulled out his sword. The blade reflected his young and relieved face. At the end of his life, all the fear and despair had dissipated.
Sir Ronald of House Darry hurriedly ran up the city wall, his armor making messy clashing sounds, and his face was full of anxiety. "Sir Raymun!"
"The morale of the military has begun to agitate. Many people... Many people are discussing surrender."
Tytos. Blackwood looked at him with a calm expression and slowly said, "Go back and tell them."
"Noble, surrender to Ironborn, and you may be able to exchange ransom for a way out."
"But for them, these ordinary soldiers and farmers, surrendering will only make them see how many novel ways Ironborn has to torture and kill."
"Tell them to take up arms and die on the walls, at least...:... and die as a man."
Sir Ronald opened his mouth, which eventually turned into a sigh, and left as ordered. Tytos. Blackwood followed him and walked slowly to the inner wall. He silently looked at the refugees, peasants and soldiers below who were huddled together out of fear, and said their last prayers and farewells to each other with tears in their eyes. Their lives were about to end.
At this moment, a figure rushed out from the crowd. It was a child, twelve years old at most, but his eyes were astonishingly bright.
He ran to Tytos. Blackwood, knelt down on one knee without hesitation, and shouted in a childish but extremely firm voice, "Master Tytos! I am the eldest son of Patrick. Mallister, Jason. Mallister! I request to be your attendant!"
He raised his head suddenly, his eyes burning with fire that was not for his age.
"Please give me a sword! I want to be as brave as my father who died in battle! I want to participate in the battle! Defend my mother and sister!"
His small chest heaved violently, and he shouted the last words with all his strength.
"Then... die heroically!"
Tytos. Blackwood looked at the child in front of him, and seemed to see the shadow of Jason. Mallister. The heart that had been tempered by current events and was as hard as iron felt a rare softness.
But he still shook his head and his voice was a little gentle. "Kid, this is not your battle."
A cold female voice came from behind. "Give him weapons!!!"
When everyone heard the news, a woman wearing a plain dress walked out from the group of women and children, the widow of Jason. Mallister, the mother of Patrick.
The woman's face was haggard, with sunken eye sockets, but her clear eyes were burning with something just like her son's. She walked up to Blackwood, without crying or begging. She just repeated her words in an unquestionable tone.
"Give my son weapons."
In everyone's shocked eyes, she looked at her son and spoke word by word.
"Let him fight like his father."
"Let him! Die like a true Mallister man! Don't disgrace his father's name!"
These words were like an invisible heavy hammer, hitting the heart of everyone on the city wall. Those soldiers who had been whispering just now and planning to surrender were stunned at this moment. They looked at the cruel mother and the boy who straightened his little chest, and their faces were instantly filled with a flush of shame and anger.
A woman, a child, in the face of a desperate situation of death, if this is the case, what reason do men like them who have experienced hundreds of battles have to live in an ignoble way?
Tytos. Blackwood stared silently at Mrs. Mallister for a long time. He did not see madness in this woman's eyes, only pride that was harder than steel.
Finally, he nodded slowly, and this action became a silent signal.
A stubble-faced soldier from the Seaguard family was the first to react. He pulled out his broken sword that had been cut and curled, and let out a roar with all his strength.
"For Riverlands!!"
This roar was like igniting a powder keg. All the soldiers, regardless of their disability, pulled out their weapons. Fear and despair were replaced by a decisive and tragic anger. They let out a roar that shook the sky, a roar towards death.
"Fight to the death and never retreat!"
"Fucking pirates!"
"For Riverlands!"
They no longer wanted to surrender or escape. The refugees began to spontaneously carry rolling stones, reinforce the gap in the city wall blocked with broken wood, and use stones to sharpen the last sword in their hands. The entire Oldstones, from a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, instantly turned into a wounded lion ready to give the enemy the last blow in his life before dying.
Outside the city, Cleftjaw Dagmer lost his last patience. Euron That lunatic was nowhere to be found. His words made him worried and even a little inexplicable fear. Even if he didn't know what there was to be afraid of, he didn't want to waste time on this broken city. Since he didn't want to be captured honorably, he would capture him in battle.
He roared and issued the order, "Attack!!!!"
Countless Ironborns carried crude ladders and wooden blocks, making strange screams like wild beasts, and rushed toward Oldstones like a black tide. There were no arrows on the city wall, and the defenders could only smash down everything they could move, including rolling stones, dismantled city bricks, and even several pots of boiled dung.
Tytos. Blackwood and Raymun. Darry stand side by side at the most dangerous gap in the city wall. Their presence is the most dangerous thing for the defenders. Patrick. Mallister stood closely behind Tytos as his spiritual support. A long sword was too heavy for him and he could only hold it with both hands.
Ironborn was fearless and unafraid of death. They were born warriors. They stepped on the bodies of their companions and climbed up. The flying axes in their hands drew fatal arcs in the air. A soldier of the Darry family was hit in the shoulder by the ax thrown by Ironborn. Half of his body was stained red with blood, but he still stood on the city wall.
As soon as a Ironborn climbed up the ladder, he was hit by a stone in the face and fell screaming. But immediately, another Ironborn stepped on his shoulder and continued upward.
The ruins of Oldstones did not support the defense of the city at all. The Ironborn people poured into the castle instantly like a flood that broke a bank.
The battle entered into the most brutal hand-to-hand combat from the very beginning.