"A Shield in the Storm: The Captain’s Oath"

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The Bells Ring in Desperation

Stoney Sept was a town under siege.

Smoke choked the sky, and the ringing of the bells never stopped—not in celebration, but in fear. The people knew what was coming.

War had arrived.

Inside the town, Robert Baratheon stood battered and bloodied, his warhammer resting heavily on his shoulder. He had fought from street to street, but no matter how many men he cut down, they kept coming.

Jon Connington had sworn to end the rebellion here, and the Hand of the King was too skilled a commander to be shaken easily.

Robert turned to his men. "We hold the streets. We hold the town. Or we die here."

His warriors nodded grimly.

The battle had only just begun

He new that the day will be long.

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Robert's Defiance – A City of Traps and Blood

Connington's men moved methodically, tightening their noose around the town. But the rebels fought like cornered wolves attacking at cny chance they got.

Barricades had been erected in the narrow streets, archers fired from rooftops, and the townsfolk, driven by desperation, helped the rebels wherever they could.

Still, it wasn't enough.

From the town square, Ser Richard Lonmouth surveyed the battlefield. "We won't hold forever," he admitted. "Connington knows how to fight a siege."

Robert spat. "Then we'll have to show him we know how to break one."

But he knew the truth. They were outnumbered.

If relief didn't come soon, they were dead men.

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Jon Connington's Siege – The Hand's Patience

Outside the town, Jon Connington stood atop a hill, watching the siege unfold.

"They are stubborn," he thought. "But they will break."

His strategy was simple: starve them out, cut off every escape, grind them down until they had no fight left.

A scout approached. "My lord, we've taken the eastern streets."

Connington nodded. Good. Step by step, the trap was closing.

But something troubled him. The rebel lords outside the town had not attacked in full force.

They were waiting for something.

Or someone.

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The Rebel Lords' Dilemma – The War Council

Outside the siege, in the rebel camp, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and the other lords gathered around a map.

Hoster Tully's brow was furrowed. "Robert can't hold forever. We must break through."

Jon Arryn shook his head. "Connington is prepared. If we charge recklessly, we'll be slaughtered."

The lords argued over strategy, but the truth was clear—they were evenly matched.

This was a stalemate.

Hoster looked to the north. "Eddard Stark is marching. If we can hold out until then…"

Jon nodded. "Then we hold."

The battle had become a test of endurance.

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A Desperate Fight – The War Rages On

Inside Stoney Sept, the fighting never stopped.

Day after day, Connington's forces attacked, testing the rebel defenses.

Day after day, Robert's warriors held them back, but barely.

Food was running low. Morale was beginning to crack.

On the fifth day, Robert collapsed onto a chair, exhausted.

Ser Richard Lonmouth sat beside him. "If the North doesn't come soon, this ends in slaughter."

Robert grinned through bloodied teeth. "Then let's make it a slaughter they'll never forget."

He refused to break.

But even he knew…

Time was running out.

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Far to the north, Eddard Stark's army was on the march.

Ten thousand strong. Hardened by the cold. Unyielding as the ice.

And when they arrived…

The war would change forever.

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