I woke at dawn in the guest chambers of Ironoaks. The previous day, the final shipment from Gulltown had arrived. Today, we would march.
My thoughts turned to the capital. Six months had passed with no word from Alban, Alaric, or the others. The helplessness of not knowing their fate was a constant weight. In a world where only lords and maesters commanded the ravens, everyone else was left in the dark. I could only trust in Miranda's capability and the skills of my men to see them to safety.
A firm knock sounded at my door. It was Ser Robar. "The men are assembled in the yard, Ser Julius. They await your word."
"I will be there directly."
I armored myself with practiced efficiency. When I arrived in the main yard, the one thousand strong stood in ordered ranks, their new gambesons and helmets making them look like a true army. Lord Morton, Lady Anya, and Ser Robar stood on the steps.
Morton addressed them. "Men of the Vale! Today, we bring justice to the mountains! For every traveler robbed, for every life taken, for Ser Hother! You march under the command of Ser Julius Harlane. He has trained you. Now, follow him to victory!"
I stepped forward, my voice carrying across the silent yard. "You are no longer farmers and miners. You are soldiers. The mountains are harsh. The enemy knows them better than you. But you have discipline. You have numbers. You have steel. Remember your training, watch your brother's back, and trust in your commanders. Our goal is to break the Howlers' strength and secure these lands for your families. For the Vale!"
A roar answered me. I turned to Morton and his family. Lady Anya's expression was grim but resolute. "The Seven keep you, Ser Julius," she said, her voice low.
"I will return with their surrender, my lady."
With that, we marched out of Ironoaks, a column of steel and determination snaking its way toward the foothills.
The strategy was simple but risky. We divided into twenty companies of fifty men, each led by five of Morton's knights. My squires were distributed among them to gain experience. A large force would only scare the clans into hiding. Smaller, mobile groups could probe their defenses, force engagements, and locate their stronghold. We would maintain contact with smoke signals.
The mountains were merciless. The real enemy was not the clansmen, but the terrain itself. Narrow paths gave way to sheer drops. Clean water was scarce. Men were lost to falls and sickness before a single arrow was loosed.
The Howlers were cunning. They used the landscape perfectly, launching ambushes from cliffs and vanishing into caves. We lost two entire companies in the first week, overwhelmed in narrow passes.
I realized our vulnerability. "Shoot down every bird you see near the camp!" I ordered. The men were confused, but they obeyed. Soon, our pots held crow and hawk. The perfectly timed ambushes ceased. They had been using watchers.
A month into the campaign, the Howlers massed their strength and overran the sixth company. Claw and ten men fought their way out and found my group days later, battered but alive.
We set a trap, and they walked into it. My company was ready. The fight was short and brutal. We captured a score of their warriors, including several women who had fought as fiercely as the men.
That evening, I heard ugly noises from where the prisoners were held. I found a group of soldiers harassing the captive women.
"Enough!" My voice cut through the din. The men froze. "They are prisoners of war, not spoils. Any man who touches them will answer to me. Is that understood?"
A veteran knight stepped forward. "Ser, with respect, these savages have done worse to our people for generations."
"And that makes us what? Their equals in savagery?" I looked at each man. "We are here to bring law, not to become lawless. They will be treated with basic decency. That is my command."
Grudgingly, the men stood down. I posted my own squires as guards.
From the prisoners, we learned the location of their main village, a fortified cave system deep in the mountains. We consolidated our remaining forces and marched.
The stronghold was impressive, a natural fortress with a narrow entrance that allowed only a few men to pass at a time. A perfect defensive position.
I approached the entrance alone, my voice echoing against the stone. "People of the Howlers! By the order of Lord Morton Waynwood, you are called to answer for your crimes. Your warriors are defeated. Surrender now, bend the knee, and you will be shown mercy. Harm will come to no one. You have until dawn to decide. Refuse, and we will have no choice but to take this fortress by force."
Silence was the only reply. As I turned to leave, an arrow shattered against my backplate. I turned slowly.
A woman stood at the cave mouth. She was tall and powerfully built, with wild, fiery hair, gripping a stone hammer. She was clad in animal hides, her face smeared with dirt, but her eyes burned with defiance.
Claw moved to my side. "That's her, ser. The one who led the attack on our companies."
I assessed her. She carried herself with the authority of a leader, her strength evident. We stood, our gazes locked in a contest of wills across the rocky pass.
Finally, she spoke, her voice rough but clear. "I am Morna, daughter of the last chief you killed. We do not kneel to valley lords."