Vaemond made his way to the front rank where his Kingsguard were waiting. Like at the battle of the Whispers they were short handed. Roland Crakehall sat upon his destrier like a veritable giant, wielding his two handed axe in one hand like most men might wield a morningstar.

Harold Langward carried a lance with the sigil of his house quartered with the plain white of the Kingsguard attached to a banner. These two men alone would make up his personal guard.

Ser Garmon Hightower was escorting his brother Matarys back to the capitol after their narrow escape from Fair Isle, and at last word they were at Riverrun.

Ser Gawen Corbray and Ser Gregor Goode remained at the Aegonfort with his family. He had wanted to bring Ser Gawen on the campaign after leaving him in the capital during the Battle of the Whispers, he was a better sword than Ser Harold Langward, but Ser Gawen had stated that, while he would fulfill his oath and defend the royal family, he would under no circumstances raise blades against his kinsman in the Vale.

Given that House Corbrays men were apart of the Vale host and in open rebellion against the crown, Vaemond had admitted he could not guarantee the impossibility of such an event and graciously allowed Ser Gawen to remain in the capitol where he would not be faced with the possibility of facing his own kin in battle.

Ser Roland Crakehall was in a similar position, his father Sumner was among Loren Lannisters foremost generals, but Roland Crakehall had said that, while he would not slay his own father or brothers if it came to battle as kinslayers were damned by the gods, he would give them a good bludgeoning for their treason and deliver them to Vaemond.

He turned to his men, some 800 of them, many looking nervously at the enemy center, which was over three times their number.

‘’I WON'T LIE TO YOU MEN…..WE ARE OUTNUMBERED…..THREE TO ONE…AND IT'S EVEN WORSE WHEN COMPARING OUR CALVARY.’’ Vaemond shouted, well out of earshot of the forces of Duskendale, which were still slowly advancing through the grass fields.

As one might expect that did not exactly bring cheer into the hearts of his men and the nervous grumbles and chattering increased amongst the ranks, the King quickly continued.

‘’BUT THEY HAVE LEFT THEMSELVES WEAK…..THEIR FLANKS ARE UNDERMANNED AND VULNERABLE, CORLYS VELARYON, THE FINEST WARRIOR IN THESE KINGDOMS WILL BREAK THEM, AS WILL LORD REDDUNE.’’ Vaemond shouted.

‘’THEY WILL HAVE THE NUMBERS YES….BUT WE FIGHT WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT HELP WILL BE COMING FROM OUR FLANKS…..I PROMISE YOU THIS….IF WE HOLD THEM LONG ENOUGH….IF WE BUY THEM TIME….WE SHALL WIN THE DAY….AND I PROMISE THIS AS WELL….I WILL FIGHT AT YOUR SIDE, AND DIE AT IT SHOULD IT COME TO THAT…..HOLD THEM BACK…AND WE SHALL WIN THE DAY.’’ Vaemond shouted loudly, over the trumpets and drums that the approaching host was sounding on their advance.

That got a much better reaction from his men, though many still looked uneasy.

A sudden roar on the flanks went out and Vaemond saw that both Corlys Velaryon and Neilyn Reddune had ordered their heavy men-at-arms forward, charging the enemy flanks, The Lord Commander being met with a similar shield wall while the Lord of Sunstone was met only by a small ragged line of archers.

The Battle of Edgerton was underway.

Vaemond wheeled his Destrier and saw that Lord Harte, commanded of the enemy center had sent his light cavalry, almost 500 in number in a slow trot towards Vaemonds center, a probing advance to harass his lines.

The young King quickly considered his options, he had just 120 light cavalry, a fifth of the number approaching him, he could not hope to defeat them in a battle of any significant length. If he did not engage them however, that would likely mean Lord Harte, upon seeing his opponent pass up the chance for a skirmish, would order a full out charge, which he could not hold back for long.

We must play their game Vaemond thought grimly.

He turned to his two Kingsguard ‘’We must buy them time….order our freeriders forward.’’

‘’Warrior be with us.’’ Roland Crakehall said solemnly, raising his two handed ax above his head, signaling the trumpeter to order the small force of light cavalry to form up.

‘’WITH ME…RIDE….WITH ME NOW.’’ Vaemond screamed, drawing Blackfyre and pointing it at the enemy, leading the charge.

The small force of freeriders galloped towards the force five times their number, both forces screaming an untold amount of battle cries.

It was not a complete battle but instead a skirmish. Both sides rode cautiously, riding in and out of the fray, picking off isolated riders, taking their foe two to one when they had the chance, an easier proposition for the men of Duskendale.

Vaemonds first opponent was a young freerider in the colors of House Hollard, mounted on a brown horse, garbed in a leather jerkin and surcoat, helmetless and armed with sword and shield.

Vaemond clumsily hacked at the young man, but the freerider advanced his horse, taking all the space away from Vaemonds strike, and grabbing his sword arm with a gloved hand.

He struggled to free himself, but he had no room to slash his sword, the two were close enough that he could smell what his foe had for breakfast, onions most likely.

The freerider, who unlike the King had use of his sword hand thrust his blade forward, but Vaemond brought up his shield, catching the blade in the metal.

If the stakes were not so deadly one might find them almost comical, both quite literally stuck together, all four of their hands in use, unable to move a muscle.

The two grabbled, with the Hollard Freerider holding onto Vaemonds sword arm for dear life while trying to free his own sword from the Kings shield, somehow managing to wrench it free.

Before he could make good on his stroke of luck, Roland Crakehall's two handed axe, wielded in one hand by the giant Kingsguard took him in the top of the skull, splitting his head in two like an overripe melon.

Vaemond nearly lost his balance as the dead man fell to the ground, still holding onto his arm but he managed to push the man off of him just in time.

He nodded his thanks to the Kingsgaurd and returned to the fray.

He saw Harold Langward, who had ridden out of the melee for a moment charge back in, lance lowered, taking a rider's horse in the side of the neck in a spray of crimson, sending the man tumbling to the ground along with his horse.

One of his own men was struggling against two foes, one recently dismounted and the other still mounted. The one on the ground held his reins, preventing him from escaping while the other hacked at him with a hatchet.

Vaemond was about to ride forward and help when the mounted man punched the Targaryen rider in the side of the face with a gloved hand, sending him spilling out of the saddle onto the grass. Vaemond did not see what happened to him after that but he did not think it was anything good.

Ser Harold Langward was at his side again, blocking a strike with his sword and counter attacking at an enemy rider, his sword piercing the man's arm, going clear through to the man's chest, causing him to slump on his horse with a groan.

On his other side, Roland Crakhall was using his height and length of his axe to great effect, dealing red ruin to any that dared approach.

An old man with a wind burnt face and a salt and pepper mustache, also wearing the colors of House Hollard charged at Vaemond from the front, his spear over his head, thrusting downwards.

Vaemond brought up his shield, made of reinforced silver and steel and caught the blow with a loud crash, before the man could ready another attack Vaemond slashed Blackfyre upward at the mans vulnerable spear hand, taking three of his fingers and causing the rider to cry out in pain and flee, his good hand on his reins.

He wheeled his horse in a slow circle, quickly appraising the situation. His men were giving as good as they got, but their foes were growing bolder, if they stayed any longer they would be slaughtered due to the overwhelming numbers.

‘’CALL THEM BACK.’’ Vaemond shouted, and a nearby mounted trumpeter sounded the orders to withdraw.

The Targaryen calvary disengaged from the skirmish, riding back to their infantry. 120 men had followed Vaemond in the charge, but to his estimation they had lost a third of that number in the melee.

He almost feared to look to the flanks, he had to hope Lord Reddune and Corlys Velaryon had broken their flanks…..he had to hope that they had given themselves enough time by taking part in the skirmish.

The Lord Commander had broken the enemy shield wall and was chasing off the archers behind that, Vaemond looked on in relief, Corlys would soon ride to their aid.

The sight on the right was far less reassuring, Lord Reddune had broken his foes easily enough, but instead of regrouping to prepare to aid their King in the center, they were wildly chasing after the fleeing enemy, seemingly losing all organization.

‘’Lord Reddune has lost control of his men…..what…what are they doing running down the enemy….we need them here.’’ Vaemond said, scarce believing what he was seeing.’’

‘’Your Grace.’’ Ser Roland said.

‘’We need his men…when they charge…….’’ Vaemond continued, oblivious.

‘’They already have.’’ Ser Roland said grimly.

Vaemond turned and saw the big man spoke true. Lord Harte had reorganized his calvary from the quick melee and assembled them at the front of his lines, which began an all out charge.

Nearly 700 calvary thundered forward across the grassy plains, thousands of men at arms and peasant levies charging close behind.

They're throwing everything at us Vaemond thought with a start.

He turned to the left flank and saw that Corlys’s men at arms, while moving quickly, would not reach them before the huge mass of calvary slammed into their shield wall, Lord Reddunes men were spread out chasing down the enemy and were essentially useless.

Vaemond looked at the battered remains of his calvary, in order to give Corlys time to reinforce him he would have to slow down the horde of calvary that was approaching them, but he did not have the strength to stop 700 calvary, led by 200 knights at a full gallop. Just 80 of his cavalry had survived the earlier engagement, and his own reserve of 40 knights was pitiful to the near 200 that thundered towards him…but he had no choice….they had to keep the enemy calvary away from their shieldwall.

He was about to order another foray against the huge horde of riders that faced them when the first barrage hit the approaching knights.

The first line of mounted knights were cut down like wheat to a scythe, riders and horses tumbling to the ground as the arrows found them.

Vaemond turned with surprise and saw that Corlys had managed to get a tiny line of archers in range, their number couldn't have exceeded 60 men.

The Lord Commander had arranged them cleverly to make up for their small size. They were in three ranks of twenty. They fired not all at once but rank by rank, adjusting the range when it was not their turn, making it so that these 60 longbowmen could shower a large area of the grassy plains with arrows.

They fired rapidly, several more volleys hitting the mass of calvary, the dead horses and riders in front of them obstructing their path forward and causing the riders to hesitate, and the cavalry charge shifted to a crawl as riders tried to maneuver around the dead and dying front rank.

This pause gave Corlys Velaryons infantry time to join with Vaemonds shield wall, bolstering their numbers to nearly 1500 men.

Lord Harte would not order his knights and horsemen through an open field under arrow fire into a shield wall of over a thousand infantry and wisely called a withdrawal, meeting up with their reinforcements who also joined the retreat before giving battle.

The Battle was over.

By the end of it almost 1700 men of Duskendale were dead, heavily wounded or captured, with 70 knights, a third of the number that had fought in the battle becoming casualties. The decisions of Lord Harte and Lord Darklyn to give battle with such weak flanks, and not immediately overwhelm the Targaryen center had cost them dearly.

Targaryen losses had been much lighter, losing just 230 men, though a third of the men that followed Vaemond in his time buying charge had perished.

Even such a decisive victory did come with other costs however.

Vaemond had been understandably angry with Lord Neilyn for endangering their victory by pursuing the fleeing enemies on the right, and had looked for him after the battle to rightfully chastise him.

It had become all too clear the reasons for this shortly after the battle however, when Vaemond saw Lord Reddune being carried off the field on a stretcher, the brave old Dornishman had taken an arrow through the shoulder and the heart while leading the charge on the enemy right, and his men had become confused and lost their battle order when he had fallen.

Following this decisive victory, Vaemond would order his host, reinforced by 1500 men north to lay siege to the Dun Fort and the City of Duskendale, the taking of which would remove the threat so close to the capitol.