Leading men into battle had been a sobering experience, not that what had transpired could be called in any form a battle. In battle, there was fighting from both sides. There barely was any resistance from the unprepared and sleepy defenders, most of which didn't even have a weapon in hand. He had known that fighting was nothing like the songs he had heard as a boy. Still, the smell of shit, piss, and death had him puking his guts out. In the end, the garrison had easily been slaughtered with only a token resistance, and only the keep's maester was spared and confined to his rooms. Even the small number of servants and cooks were killed because they couldn't be trusted.