Interlude: Stannis
Lannisport, Mid Eighth Moon, 285 A.C., Six moons later…
The frigid winter air blows fiercely as the Lannister clipper, the Swift Claw, barrels towards Lannisport at near sixteen knots, the bear-skin cloak wrapped around me shielding me from the worst of it. My head and ears are kept warm by the strange mink furred cap my friend, Lord Hugo Seastark sent me, calling it an ustasha or ushanka or something like that. The earflaps were down, currently cover my ears, but have an ingenious feature where they had straps at the end to either tie together around the chin or to the crown of the cap.
I glance around the ship, spotting my wife in a long brown, otter fur cloak in the Northern style speaking to her goodaunt, Lady Darlessa Lannister, wearing a similar fur cloak. The groom and bride of the upcoming wedding, Ser Burton Lannister of Lannisport, and Lady Dacey Mormont, both wrapped in white, snow bear-skin cloaks, were at the bow of the ship. I couldn't hear what their conversation but the lad hung on his betroth's every word and I see my gooduncle Ser Tygett Lannister chaperoning the couple from a respectful distance. The ship begins to slow as the harbor comes into view, under the shadow of Casterly Rock and sails for the small wharf at the bottom of the massive rock.
Hundreds of ships of each type, from large dromons to tiny fishing boats filled the Lannisport harbor even in the cold of winter. The ships that interested me the most were at the near end of the docks closest to Casterly Rock, ten clippers waving the new Sunset Trade Company banners, a simplified one with only the setting sun. His friend claimed the change was made due to the addition of the Hightowers and Redwynes and that adding their house sigils would make the banner "too crowded". Ten clippers will take part in the trade expedition to Yi-Ti, five from the Seastarks, two from the Lannisters, and one each from the Mallisters, Hightowers, and Redwynes. The sixth Seastark clipper will sail for King's Landing, taking Edric Seastark to join the Royal Trade Company's expedition to Ibben and further east. The fact that it will also take my wife, her uncle and aunt, the Master of Coin, and myself back to the capital makes it apparent that House Baratheon needs to get it's own clippers. It feels unbecoming for a prince and lord paramount to have to beggar a ride from his wife and friend's clippers for faster travel.
"Impressive, aren't they?" Speak of the devil, the Master of Coin, Lord Ambrose Mallister, walks up beside me.
"Aye, this ship sailed from King's Landing to Lannisport in just under a moon, a journey that would've taken a galley at least twice as long. I can see why your trade company is sending a small fleet of them to Yi-Ti, it'll take them what? Three, four moons to sail to Yin from Lannisport." I respond.
"Roughly so, my prince. Such a voyage with galleys would take some seven or eight moons." The Master of Coin informs and I nod, calculating a clipper could sail to Yin or Port of Ibben from King's Landing in two to three moons, an unheard-of feat for any ship until recently.
"How's your grandson Patrek faring in Castle Warg? I take it you are excited to see him again." I ask the old lord, whose smile deepens his wrinkles.
"He recently turned two-and-ten and is faring well. He writes of learning the typical things one learns when they foster, swordplay, archery, politics, and so on. Though he says he also learns strange things such as the pod structure of spotted whales and their behaviors. Even claims the whalers are working with spotted whales to hunt larger whales!" He says, voice dripping in skepticism as I furrow my brow in confusion, unsure I heard him correctly
"Patrek's currently assisting the construction of a sewer system with quickstone, something I intend to have him work on when he finishes his fostering." I hear Lord Mallister say as I squint my eyes and notice a man standing at the bow of one of the clippers waving small flags to another man on another clipper. His arms move with the flags in a strange, coordinated fashion, as if trying to convey some sort of message to the other man.
"What is that man doing with the flags?" I point to the closest clipper where a man could be faintly seen waving two red and yellow flags.
"Ah, that is the semaphore signal flag system created by Lord Seastark being tested for the trade expedition. It provides for better communication at sea between ships. Each pose with the flag represents a letter or number…"
"Allowing the receiving ship to spell out the messages through a far-eye." I finish his sentence, my mind racing with the possibilities of such a system being employed by both the Royal Fleet and Royal Trade Company. Memories of the naval battle of Dragonstone with the remnants of the loyalist fleet flash before my mind and I think of ways such a system could have made winning the battle easier. I make a note to myself to ask him about the signal flags amongst the other inventions the Lord of Sea Dragon Point keeps spewing out.
"Has your grandson learned anything about the metalworks the blacksmiths of the Street of Steel complained about?" I ask him about the Wolfsport metalworks and the rumors that have proliferated in Red Keep after the blacksmiths complained to Robert during court. First it was newer and better blast furnaces making large amounts of iron and now his uncle, the Master of Whispers, has heard whispers of a steel furnace capable of producing large amounts of castle-forged steel.
"No, Lord Seastark has been quite careful with his security. He hasn't taken my grandson or any of the other fosterlings to the metalworks but he writes that they are surrounded by a wall with guards. Only those with permission from Lord Seastark may access the facility." Lord Mallister says with disappointment. I'm cut off from responding by the captain calling out to drop anchor and I suddenly realize we're already at the docks in the lower part of Casterly Rock. The crewmembers begin tying the ship to port and setting up a gangway to the dock as I tie the straps of my earflaps to the crown of the strange cap. Everyone I have asked has told me it looks better with the flaps tied up, especially Cersei.
My wife and I descend the gangplank arm in arm and we walk towards the interior of Casterly Rock. At the entrance we are greeted by the House Lannister of both Casterly Rock and Lannisport and House Mormont. Flanking them were important guests like the Seastarks, Blackwoods, Hightowers, Mallisters, Dustins, and Redwynes. The betrothed couple greets Lord Tywin before moving to speak with their families. I spot my friend Lord Hugo in a matching ushanka, smiling at me next to his wife sporting a small baby bump, and the corners off my mouth twitch into a small smile. I notice all the Seastarks and the fosterlings all wearing Lord Hugo's new furred cap as my goodfather formally welcomes us to Casterly Rock and Lannisport. I exchange greetings with the gathered highborn and when I reach my friend we grasp arms.
"My prince, it's good to see you again! I enjoy our correspondence but I always prefer talking face to face." Lord Hugo greets me with a warm smile. From the corner of my eye I see my wife chatting happily with her twin.
"Lord Seastark, it's good to see you again. You've been busy I hear, building ships and roads among other things." My friend gives a casual shrug.
"Merely improving my lands like any other lord." His nonchalant response causes me to snort at his habit of downplaying his achievements, as if anyone could casually invent a new type of ship or furnace at will.
"Well, you've improved your lands more in three and a half years than most lords do in ten times that! Now Lord Stark writes of building roads in the North and the Street of Steel complains of a massive metalworks luring away young talent to Wolfsport." I say as we move to enter the home of the Lannisters.
"I originally just wanted a paved road from Wolfsport to Winterfell and sought Lord Stark's support. After he saw the roads and buildings constructed by quickstone, he sought the quickstone itself, both to pave the Kingsroad and for the restorations of Queenscrown, Moat Cailin, and the Broken Tower in Winterfell. Gave me a lot of tax breaks for the secret. I'm surprised your brother wants to complete to pave the entirety of the Kingsroad." Lord Hugo explains how Lord Stark obtained the quickstone.
"Lord Stark's letter planted the idea while his wife, the Master of Coin, and the Lord Hand convinced him of the benefits. Framed it as "Showing the superiority of the Baratheons over the dragons through better roads". I snorted at the memory of Robert being won over by the appeal of a tangible symbol of House Baratheon's better rule.
"I understand the queen wanting a better Kingsroad to connect to the North but what are the Master of Coin and Lord Hand getting out of this?" Lord Hugo asks, curiosity flickering in his blueish-gray eyes.
"Lord Arryn included the paving of the High Road to the Eyrie in the plans and Lord Mallister is pushing for an extension from the Kingsroad to Seaguard through the Twins." I see my friend nod his head in understanding as we hear a new voice cut in.
"So, the King is looking to pave the Kingsroad." My goodfather, Lord Tywin walks up besides us, I glance around to see his children walking together with Ser Jaime now in deep conversation with his younger brother, leaving my wife walking with them wearing a face of annoyance at being ignored.
"Aye. We intend to construct quickstone kilns in the capital and Storm's End during winter so we can begin construction once spring arrives." I inform him and he absorbs my words, silent for a moment before speaking.
"And what of the other roads Jaehaerys the Conciliator constructed?" He asks.
"The Kingsroad will take priority, but that doesn't mean other roads can't be worked on simultaneously." I respond.
"Which one were you thinking? There are three roads that lead to Lannisport." The Northman snorts.
Lord Tywin considers the question for a moment. "The Gold Road would be the most…beneficial to our houses". I nod slowly at his words. The Gold Road runs from Lannisport to King's Landing, going through Deep Den, the Field of Fire, near Redgrass Field, before crossing the Blackwater near Chelsted Keep to the capital. A better road between King's Landing and Lannisport would be beneficial to both houses, even if the route the road follows is sparsely populated in the middle part, located in the northern plains of the Reach.
"There is merit to paving the Gold Road…" Lord Tywin, Lord Hugo, and I begin discussing the paving of the Gold Road and the logistics behind it as we delve deeper into the massive rock along with the potential paving of the River and Ocean roads in the future…
Two days later…
I walk across one of the grand halls of Casterly Rock, weaving through the many guests of the wedding reception hearing snippets of conversation as I go.
"I heard you sparred with boys in the capital but is it true the women of Bear Island learn to fight?" I hear Lady Alysanne Ambrose ask the now Lady Dacey Lannister of Lannisport.
"Aye, but not all women. Some become shieldmaidens like myself who train…" The She-Bear's answer to the four Reacher ladies fades away as I catch a snippet of another conversation.
"My house stands to gain much from this voyage to Yi-Ti! You heard Lord Seastark, the YiTish people have a heavier demand for silver than gold! Apparently all their taxes are paid in silver instead of food or gold…" Lord Serrett of Silverhill boasts to his fellow Westerlords. I furrow my brow at the mention of silver, one of the topics of the Director's meeting held yesterday that I wasn't a part of.
I hear Summer Tongue spoken between a pregnant Princess Keeori Lannister and the exiled Summer Islander prince to my left before another conversation catches my right ear.
"Have you heard the terrible news? The High Septon has passed away and now the Most Devout must convene in the capital to elect a new High Septon!" Lord Piper of Pinkmaiden tells Lord Paege of Fairmarket about the news that arrived by raven yesterday.
"Aye, and with it being winter, it'll take weeks for some of the Most Devout to travel to the capital! Not to mention it usually takes them days, sometimes weeks to choose a High Septon. It could take a moon or two before a new one is announced!" I hear Lord Paege's response as I keep walking.
I spot my wife talking to her twin from across the room only for Lady Myrra Seastark, Lady Jeyne Grafton, and Lady Sybell Westerling to approach them and join whatever conversation they were having. Although for some reason my wife looks annoyed rather than pleased with seeing her friends. The various conversations begin to hit my ears faster and faster
"…Hear Lord Seastark invented a furnace that produces large quantities of steel?"
"…Rogue Seahorse just conquered the island of Skullhammer…"
"…Ironborn sailing up the Milkwater!" "Bah! What could the Wildlings have that's even worth stealing?"
"…Seen the portrait of Ser Jaime and Lady Shiera by Lucos of Flea Bottom?" "Aye, I heard Ser Jaime loves it despite complaining how long it took…"
"…Renamed to the Dornish Trade Company now that the Reacher houses pulled out."
"…Attacked a Royal Trade Company convoy off of Sunstone…"
I frown at the reminder of the pirate attack on a convoy of three trade cogs and their three galley escorts on their way back from the Summer Islands. Only one cog managed to escape the ambush of ten galleys flying the flag of the pirate Bloodbeard and it's that very attack that will have Davos leading the retaliation strike. Bloodbeard is holed up on the island of Sunstone, second-largest island in the Stepstones and island closest to Dorne, and the timing of the attack will coincide with us sailing with Edric Seastark in clipper The Thunderbolt in the area. Speaking of Seastarks, I find Lord Seastark in deep conversation with Lord Leyton Hightower and Lord Paxter Redwyne.
"…But the evidence is there! He is building an Iron Fleet from timber acquired from Beyond the Wall and last we checked, it's at least fifty longships. Not normal longships, mind you, but great longships, each the size of a lesser galley and made for battle, not raiding!" Lord Seastark argues passionately.
"But surely Lord Greyjoy knows he can't possibly win against our combined fleets? He would have to be a blind fool to rebel!" Lord Redwyne scoffs.
"Then you more faith in Lord Greyjoy's intelligence than I do, Lord Redwyne." My friends says in a grim tone.
"But when Lord Quellon Greyjoy ruled, the Ironborn traded much more than they reaved. Surely his son can be convinced of the same if they are brought into the trade company!" Lord Hightower argues but Lord Hugo shakes his head.
"Lord Balon is unfortunately not as wise as his father. He is a firm believer of the Ironborn Old Way, of paying the iron price, in contrast to his father's New Way of paying the gold price. It's this dedication to the Old Way that'll push him to rebel." He says but snaps his head to me when he hears me cut into the conversation.
"And what reason would Lord Greyjoy have for rebelling against his rightful king?"
"Ah, Prince Stannis, I'll answer your question with another question. Did Lord Greyjoy ever bend the knee or swear an oath of fealty to your brother after ascending the Seastone Chair?" He inquires. I open my mouth to respond but pause, my mind reviewing the memories of Lord Greyjoy's letter to my brother after he ascended the Seastone Chair.
"No…" I say the word slowly, realizing my friend might be on to something. "…He acknowledged the authority of the Iron Throne and has paid his taxes but neither knelt nor swore an oath of fealty." I grind my teeth realizing that Lord Greyjoy never mentioned my brother by name or title, only vaguely mentioning the Iron Throne.
"That's what I thought. Every house in every kingdom, regardless of what side they fought on…" Lord Hugo gestures to Lord Hightower and Lord Redwyne, who look at me awkwardly when I narrow my eyes at Lord Redwyne, memories of his fleet starving Storm's End briefly flash through my mind before my friend continues. "…Swore an oath to your brother, except the Ironborn! I mean, can the Ironborn be considered part of the realm if pay the bare minimum in taxes but never bent the knee?" I absorb his words and realize he might have a point.
"I'm still skeptical of Lord Greyjoy being foolish enough to rebel. That being said, you do bring up a good point on the legal ambiguity of him never formally bending the knee. I will write to my brother tomorrow on the matter." I can see my friend wants to argue further, but knows me well enough to know that it won't work once I've made up my mind.
"I hope I'm wrong my prince…" Lord Hugo but is cut off by Ser Tygett's booming voice.
"TIME FOR THE BEDDING!" I watch a crowd of women surround Ser Burton and a crowd of men surround Lady Dacey, holding them aloft and starting to tear pieces of clothing from them. I turn away from the scene and decide to find my wife…
Four days later…
I stand at the docks in the carved-out bottom of Casterly Rock with my wife, who is giving her twin a solemn farewell in the dawn's early light. The trade expedition left two day previously and I look towards the lone clipper, The Thunderbolt, the ship that will take us back to King's Landing, but not before we make two stops. The first, unplanned stop, is to Lordsport in the Iron Islands, in order to receive Lord Greyjoy's oath of fealty on behalf of my brother. The raven scroll from Robert, ordering me to the Iron Islands and giving me to power to accept fealty in his name still in my left hand as I watch dockworkers carry a covered painting into the ship.
Lord Seastark graciously lent out his personal painter, Lucos of Feal Bottom, to paint a portrait of Cersei and I, although for some reason I get the impression that Lucos was taking his time with the portrait, as if wasting time was the goal. But once I saw the quality of his work, I realized the extra time must have been because the artist was ensuring the high quality of his painting.
The second, planned stop is at Storm's End, where we'll unload the new Wolfsport plows, harnesses, and seed drills to be used in the lands of Storm's End and Summerhall as a testing grounds for these new farming implements. Lord Stark wrote highly of them in his letters but the Small Council is determined to test them for themselves to truly see if their worth it. Summerhall was chosen because it is the only part of the Stormlands under direct control of the Iron Throne.
I'm brought out of my thoughts by the captain of the ship calling for the boarding of passengers. My wife breaks away from her twin joins me as we ascend the gangplank on the ship. I glance over my back to see Lord Hugo, his wife, and his fosterlings waving at us, their ship to head out in a few hours. I grin a little and wave back before turning to my wife.
"So then, did you enjoy your time here? I'm sure it was nice to see your brothers again." I ask her and she makes a face that torn between elated and disgusted.
"I did, although I didn't get to spend as much time as with my dear twin as I wanted. The Seastarks and the damn Imp took up much of my time. But even still, I got some personal time with him." She says with a slightly irritated tone before looking at me.
"I heard the queen is with child again…" She changes the subject; I nod hearing the news from the Red Keep the same time she did.
"…And that got me thinking…" Her mouth shifts into a smirk as her eyes meet mine. "…We still need to do our duty and sire an heir." She finishes in a sultry tone and I suppress a shiver of excitement done my spine. Damnit! This woman knows how to get me in the mood.
"We can try tonight, if you don't mind making noise." I respond. Her sultry grin grows wider…
Interlude: Victarion
Lordsport, Mid-Eighth Moon, 285 A.C., Three days later…
A gust of wind sweeps through the harbor of Lordsport, causing my nephews Rodrik and Maron and their friend Harren Botley to mutter about the cold. Thin snow flurries flutter down from gray clouds as Lord Sawane Botley, Lord of Lordsport and captain of the Swiftfin, peers through a far at the fast-approaching ship.
"It's one of those clipper ships. Must be going six-and-ten knots!" Lord Botley murmurs before handing it over to me. I take the far-eye and put it to my right eye and close my left. Through the looking glass I see a narrow, three-masted ship barreling towards the harbor at impressive speeds. Three banners fly on each mast, one Seastark, one of their trade company, and one of House Baratheon.
"So…" I lower the far eye to see the harbor full of longships, fishing skiffs, captured galleys and trade cogs, and ten great longships of the Iron Fleet with the other fifty relocated to Old Wyk out of sight of the prince. I turn to Lord Botley. "…Why is the prince coming here?"
"'Royal business' is all the raven said. That and it would be quick." I state matter-of-factly as I hand Lord Botley's far-eye back to him, the reaver having paid the iron price from a Myrish captain years ago.
"It looks just like the ship I saw on my first reaving almost two years ago! I was with my nuncle Euron on the Silence when it sailed by us, twice as fast as a longship! It was right before we captured a galley from House Prestor!" I hear Rodrik boast to Harren and Maron, both two namedays younger the him.
"That was when you found a wayfinder and backstaff right?" Harren asked in awe while Maron already knew the answer. "Aye, and now we make our own and we'll use those greenlander inventions against them!" Rodrik continues to boast.
"Can't believe out of all places in the Iron Islands, it's Lonely Light that has sticky-stone." I snort at Lord Botley's words as the greenlander ship draws nearer.
When Euron and Rodrik brought a wayfinder and backstaff back to Pyke, my lord brother had examined the two navigation tools made by Lord Seastark. He shared the same mix begrudging respect and infuriating indignity that I had at the proof of a greenlander, especially House Seastark making better tools than us Ironborn. The backstaffs were easy to copy and were spreading amongst the Ironborn in decent numbers but the wayfinders were more difficult. They required sticky-stone, a special type of iron thought to only be found in Sea Dragon Point and after my brother had all the islands scoured for the necessary material. It was Lord Farwynd of all people who brought the small amount he found at the base of his small islet, enough to make thirty wayfinders and enough to make him a wealthy lord.
"Why are the Seastarks with the prince?" Rodrik sneers when the ship comes close enough for the people of the harbor, both Ironborn and thralls to pause, the hum of many conversations filling the air.
"Lord Seastark is a friend of the prince and probably the reason why he's here." I answer gruffly. The greenlander ship slows to enter the harbor and I gaze upon the harbor to the Ironborn to see their reactions, the thralls having gotten back to work like they should before they got a good flogging. I see some Ironborn staring at the ship hungrily, like a starving dog at a juicy piece of meat. Others glare balefully at the black wolf banner, no doubt remembering fierce battles and lost comrades with the Sunset Fleet. House Seastark might be the youngest house of our enemies, but they've proven to be quite the thorn in our sides. From the birth of their house, when they defeated our last attempt to regain Sea Dragon Point, to our current efforts to build the Iron Fleet, they've . Over the last five centuries, reaving the North for plunder and timber has become so difficult due to the Sunset Fleet that it's become a test of an Ironborn's mettle to successfully reave the North against the Seastarks. Northern timber, amber, saltwives, and more are prized by reavers who pay the iron price against the Northern greenlanders.
I smile as I reminisce about one of my first reavings a decade ago, when I sailed with Balon and Euron against father's orders to not reave the Seven Kingdoms. We managed to row up pass Sea Dragon Point under the nose of the Seastark fleet to reave isolated villages in Glover lands. We didn't get much for the iron price, but the bit of amber and Northern saltwives brought back to Pyke was met with hearty approval from many true Ironborn. Not many Ironborn can claimed to have successfully reaved the North and it's the dream of many reavers to attack the vast North and all it's riches, especially the growing Wolfsport…
"Nuncle, you promised to take me on my first reaving. Are you going to take me soon?" My nephew Marlon asks, no doubt inspired by his brother's tales. I mull it over. He's three-and-ten, a bit on the young side but not drastically so. After all, Dalton The Red Kraken Greyjoy started reaving when he was ten and his father at five-and-ten.
"I'll speak with your father about accompanying me to the Stepstones. I am to meet the Rouge Seahorse on his behalf, but we can reave the Orange Shore afterwards. Now, quiet!" I hush my nephew as the clipper docks at the harbor. The gangplank is set on the docks by the crew, which I notice two dozen armed men wear brown leather armor underneath winter furs on the ship, the Seastark sigil on their chests. I spot some them wielding crossbows, boarding axes, cutlasses among other weapons. The prince and princess descend the gangplank first wearing strange furred caps, followed by a Kingsguard I didn't know. Then came a Northerner who I initially thought was Lord Seastark only to quickly realize it wasn't due to them being around Rodrik's age. Must he his younger brother Elric or some stupid greenlander name flanked by two of those strange armored men, hands on the scabbards of their cutlasses and I notice small buckler shields on their left arms. Rodrik puffs out his chest and sizes up the Seastark boy his age.
"Prince Stannis, Princess Cersei. Welcome to Lordsport. I am Victarion Greyjoy." I bow to the greenlander royals, but only the bare minimum as all the Ironborn do. I ignore the Seastark standing beside the Kingsguard, who are introduced as Edric Seastark and Ser Richard Horpe of the Kingsguard.
"Lord Victarion, I am here on behalf of my brother, the king." The prince states plainly.
"I have horses ready to take you to Pyke, it's only two leagues away and it's best to get there quickly in this weather." I nod and order a thrall to bring the horses.
The prince and princess, along with the Kingsguard and the Seastark, mount the small local breed of horse native to the islands, with the Lannister princess riding side saddle as the mounted group made their way to Pyke, the snow flurries having stopped for the time being but it was only a matter of time before they return. I ignore Rodrik boasting to the Seastark about his prowess with an axe and how he gets irked by the stone-faced Northerner's refusal for a spar.
"Prince Stannis…" I lean over from my horse to quietly talk to him. "…Your raven was vague on what you wanted to discuss with my brother." I ask, wondering if he knew about the Iron Fleet.
"Nothing more than the tying up of a small legal loose end. I suggest you have the horses ready for us to depart back to port; this shouldn't take long." The prince says cryptically as we ride with all haste to Pyke, reaching the sixty-foot-tall stone curtain walls that surround the headlands of the castle. We're quickly let though by guards in black iron breastplates wearing the golden kraken with pride, dismounting our horses near the stables before continuing on foot across the stone bridge to the Great Keep, the largest part of Pyke situated on the largest of the islets the castle spread across. Thousands of years ago the castle was built on the side of a large cliff face only for the Drowned God to sink part of it into the sea, leaving tall, scattered rocks and islets connected by stoney arch bridges and long rope bridges. We pass into the Great Keep, dark gray stone with bits of green from lichen giving it some color, towards the long, smoky Great Hall where my brother awaits.
Balon sits atop the Seastone Chair, an immense block of oily black stone carved into the shape of a great kraken twenty feet tall. The light of the many braziers giving the high seat of the Lord Reaver of Pyke an imposing and sinister glow. The prince gruffy demands bread and salt, to my brother's chagrin. The Ironborn in the Great Hall look at the guests with a mixture of curiosity and mild contempt while the thrall servants keep their heads down and mouths shut. I spot Balon's other two children, little six namedays old Theon staring at the prince in wonder while his elder sister Asha stares keenly at the Seastark boy.
"I must admit Prince Stannis; I am curious why a stag prince would come all the way to Pyke. And on a Seastark clipper ship, no less." My brother emphasizes Seastark as he glances over to the boy with his two guards with barely disguised contempt.
"Lord Edric was already taking us back to King's Landing on his ship. I simply decided to take a detour here on behalf of my kingly brother." The prince answers.
"And what is this royal business you wrote of, your raven was…unclear as to its nature." Balon finally gets to the heart of the matter.
"The reason I'm here is simple. All houses of all the kingdoms have formally bent the knee and sworn fealty to my brother…" The prince stares at my brother dead in the eyes "…All except House Greyjoy and the Iron Islands." A heavy silence descends across the Great Hall. My brother's widen and glares at the prince before turning to me.
"Brother, tell me. Do I wear a crown?" He asks, voice thick with restrained fury. I shook my head. "Have I called for a Kingsmoot?" He asks and I shake my head a second time. "Have I been crowned king in the ways of our people?" "No, brother. You have done none of those things." I state plainly as my brother turns his attention back towards Prince Stannis.
"And now you come to my castle, to my great hall, and accuse me of treason! Especially after we fought against the dragons." My brother's voice gets louder but he doesn't yell. The guests look unfazed by my brother's restrained fury.
"I accuse you of no such thing Lord Greyjoy and indeed my brother thanks you for your contributions against the loyalists. I am here to simply fix a minor legal issue. All houses have sworn fealty to House Baratheon, even the damn Tyrells! But yours has not. So, my brother has provided me with the authority to accept your oath on his behalf." The prince holds up a raven scroll with the royal seal of House Baratheon of King's Landing, the seal is the same as the royal banner, split in two with the Baratheon stag and colors on the left and the Stark direwolf and colors on the right, mirroring the rearing up pose of the stag.
"I only seek that you bend the knee and swore an oath of fealty to House Baratheon. No other Ironborn needs to do this, you will be enough for the rest of the Ironborn lords." The prince's words cause murmuring in the assembled Ironborn with some like Lord Botley looking relieved that they don't have to kneel and others like Lord Drumm of Old Wyk glaring at the greenlanders for their audacity.
"This is an outrage! We have paid our taxes to the Iron Throne, have we not! I wrote to your brother our of acceptance of the Iron Throne's authority!" Balon argues loudly.
"Aye, you have Lord Greyjoy, but you never formally swore fealty to brother, only the Iron Throne." I grimace when the prince points out the legal loophole my brother has been using to justify our coming rebellion.
The prince has effectively cornered my brother. Either he has to kneel or start the rebellion now by taking them as hostages. My brother and the prince loudly argue for several minutes, the air in the Great Hall becoming heavier and heavier before my brother looks to me. Our eyes meet and after a brief unspoken conversation between us, Balon begrudgingly bends the knee and swears an oath of fealty to the greenlander prince. A mix of horrified and outraged murmurs fill the hall but the prince ignores them, declaring his business concluded and that they'll be leaving. I move to escort the greenlanders out of the Great Hall, looking back at Balon, whose eye told me they were going to talk in his solar later. The greenlanders ignore the scathing glares from the Ironborn, mostly towards the prince and especially the Seastark boy. Not just for historical enmity, everyone in the Great Hall could tell Lord Seastark had a hand in the prince's visit. My nephews, with Rodrik in particular, glare at the Seastark boy with malice. Well, little Theon tries and fails to and Asha continues to stare at the Northerner with a smile and dangerous glint in her eyes.
Some Ironborn throw quick glances and mutters of disapproval at Balon, but I know why he knelt. As commander of the Iron Fleet, I understand better than most the simple but infuriating fact that we're not ready. At sixty great longships the Iron Fleet is too small to win against the rest of the realm, even if we throw in the one hundred normal longships used by the other Ironborn lords, it wouldn't be enough. The Iron Fleet needs to be at least twice a large as it is currently and more importantly, the greenlanders need to be distracted.
No one speaks as we cross the stone bridge back to the headlands, mount our horses and ride for Lordsport as the flurries returned, thicker and falling faster than a few hours ago…
Later…
I open the door to my brother's solar, finding him not at his desk, but outside on the balcony overlooking the island and Lordsport. His back was to me, staring off where the clipper had long disappeared into the horizon. I walk up beside him and stare at the harbor, where the flagship of the Iron Fleet, the Iron Victory, docked with the other nine great longships currently in Lordsport, the other fifty docked in Old Wyk for the time being. Despite the name, the great longships made for battle were much closer to galleys than longships in design.
"This changes nothing." My brother seethes. "We will continue as planned but need to make few changes. How many great longships can be constructed from all the wood in the Secret Grove?" He turns to me with a stern face, full of determination. Surely he can't mean…
"Brother, all of the wood? But the Secret Grove of pine trees has been carefully maintained by the Ironborn as an emergency source of lum-" "Yes! All of it! We need every ship we can build or pay the iron price for. How many?" Balon's eyes blaze with fury. I mull over the size of the grove, more of a small forest, and the amount of lumber needed per ship.
"Thirty. But if we use it, we won't have it-" "I don't care, we'll use every damn tree we can find both here and elsewhere. We can't get wood from Beyond the Wall due to winter burying the frozen wasteland under waist deep snow but neither can we afford to stop construction of the Iron Fleet." My cuts me off. I only bow my head and accept his order. He holds up a letter for me to read. I read its contents to find it's from Euron, claiming to have come to an "understanding" with the Summer Islander princes of the Three Exiles, a group of three islands in the western most part of the Summer Islands. The details of how they came to an agreement aren't explained, only that the previous ones were dead. The agreement was for then to give lumber and a tribute of saltwives each year to the Ironborn in return for not reaving them. I hand back the letter to Balon, careful not to show the begrudging respect for Euron for his achievement in getting us a source of desperately needed wood.
"How long will it take to construct another sixty great longships?" Balon interrupts my thoughts. I make some calculations in my head before I answer.
"At the rate we were going I'd say four or five years, but if we're using the entire Secret Grove… two or three years." Balon nods at my estimate.
"We'll reave the Summer Sea around the Orange Shore and Volantis and as far east as Slaver's Bay, capturing every ship we can to be remade into warships. We'll build the largest Iron Fleet our people have ever seen and I want us to be ready for war by summer at the earliest." I give my brother a rare smile and nod. Hearten by his words, spoken like a true Ironborn.
"Speaking of the Orange Shore, I take it you still need me to leave for the Stepstones in a week?" I ask Balon, who answers without hesitation.
"Aye. We need this alliance with the Rogue Seahorse and we need to know when he'll be done conquering the Stepstones for his petty kingdom. Only if we attack at the same time will we have a chance." I nod grimly at Balon's words.
"Another thing, brother. Marlon is three-and-ten and had been pestering me about me taking him on his first reaving." I ask my brother about taking his second born son with me and having the honor of mentoring him on his first reaving. Balon mulls it over in his head.
"Fine. Marlon can go. The boy needs to learn how to be a proper reaver, and I trust you to teach him properly. You are dismissed." I bow my head and thank my brother, knowing Marlon will be excited once I tell him the news and leave my brother's solar.
A/N: A little peek into the Ironborn. They're hard at work building the Iron Fleet even with the handicap of not having easy access to Northern timber. The Ironborn have a lot of hatred for the Seastarks for the existence of the Sunset Fleet making their lives inconvenient. The Ironborn managed to get their hands on the wayfinders and backstaffs because let's face it, that was going to happen eventually. Balon knelt because for all his stupidity in rebelling, he knows he can't win as the Ironborn are at the moment, even with some nice big juicy hostages to take. Balon strikes me as just barely being smart enough to swallow his pride and bid his time to do something stupid later.
Interlude: Edric
King's Landing, Late Ninth Moon, 285 A.C., One moon, one week later…
The size of the city in front of me "boggles my mind", to barrow a phrase from my brother. Even after the stories and descriptions from not just Hugo and Wyman, but from the hardened survivors of the war, I'm still caught off guard by the scale. It makes Wolfsport even with its current winter population of over fifty thousand souls look tiny in comparison. A truly massive beast of wood and stone buildings covering multiple hills over tens of square miles with the head being the Red Keep, an impressive castle larger than Castle Warg but smaller than Winterfell but taller than both.
I spot the prince at the bow of the ship, wearing the same furred cap my brother made and the same one I currently wear on my head, straps tied to the crown. Three wooden crates full of ushankas are on this ship just for selling them in the capital, where demand for them has been high. Lords and ladies have been clamoring for them ever since the royal family began wearing them in court, naturally sent as gifts by Hugo. I chuckle softly to myself at how my brother uses the prince and royal family to show off his new inventions to the highborn in the Red Keep, thus creating demand for his products by lords and ladies wishing to apt the royal style.
The prince is reading a pamphlet given by Hugo detailing the alphabet of the flag signal system he created, having taken in interest in it in Lannisport and planning to implement it in both the Royal Navy and trade company. He's a decent enough man for a prince and good friends with his brother but I am honestly happy to have him off the Thunderbolt. After the unplanned stop to Pyke, a four day stop in Storm's End to deliver the farming implements to be used in spring, and the cramp quarters of the ship letting everyone know when the prince is doing his "duty", I'd wager the crew is ready to see him go as well.
The prince had taken a keen interest in every part of the ship but found the steel-made, portable stove my brother calls a rocket stove. The crew love it for burning hot, quick, and with surprisingly little fuel needed and being made of metal, were less of a fire hazard on a ship.
But what truly amazed the prince is water distiller that uses another rocket stove as a heat source to distill sea water into drinkable water. It's not terribly efficient, taking several hours of continuous boiling to get a common standard gallon of safe, drinkable water but it didn't matter to the prince. He interrogated me on everything about the rocket stoves and the water distiller and I answered to the best of my ability even if I didn't completely understand how it worked. Something to do with boiling seawater to create steam that travels in a tube through something called a coil condenser that circulates cold sea water pumped from under the ship to "condense" the steam back into pure water, the salt and other impurities left behind from the boiling sea water. The prince, even if he didn't completely understand the explanation, was incredibly impressed with them and I already knew he was going to write to Hugo about purchasing some. Even his wife, who seems to look down on us Northerners, was suitable impressed by their ingenuity and craftsmanship.
I'm dragged out of my thoughts by the princess walking by me in a long, mink-furred coat and ushanka to talk to her husband. I look out to see the see the six-and-ten trade cogs of the trade expedition I'm joining, all waving the banner of the Royal Trade Company. The banner was split into quarters with four different house sigils; the top left is the royal sigil of House Baratheon of King's Landing with a crowned stag and gray direwolf mirroring each other in the rearing up position in the respective Baratheon and Stark colors. The top right is the sigil of House Arryn, the bottom right is House Baratheon of Storm's End, and the bottom left is the sigil of House Manderly to represent the "Big Four" of the trade company. I count three trade cogs of House Manderly and Northern houses like the Lockes, Woolfields, Hornwoods, Boltons, Karstarks, and Umbers. The latter three houses were hesitant participants at first, not investing much in the first two expeditions but according to my brother, have increased their investments in the previous voyage to the Summer Islands and this upcoming one to Ibben. Three trade cogs for the Stormlanders led by House Tarth, five trade cogs for the Vale, and another five for the Crownlands led by House Rykker.
Soon enough we dock the ship and descend the gangplank to be met by the royal couple, the Lord Hand and his wife Lady Arryn. Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard and Captain Creegan Karstark with a dozen Gold Cloaks guards them. We mount our horses and make our way to the Red Keep, the Gold Cloaks clearing people off the icy streets in front of us. I hear a few smallfolk recognize my house sigil and mutter about Wolfsport and "Hugo the Inventor". I'm snapped out of my musings when I hear the prince mention the signal flags and rocket stoves to his brother, goodsister, the Lord Hand and his wife. The signal flags don't get much of a reaction other than an acknowledgement of their potential usefulness. The rocket stove and water distiller and the other hand got incredulous looks and comments before the king turns to me.
"Lord Edric, your brother made a way to turn seawater into drinkable water!?" I suppress a sign and explain the water distilling process to the king and his entourage. The king and Ser Barristan understand it less than Prince Stannis, the Lord Hand seems to grasp the basic concept and is in awe from Prince Stannis and my words that it works. The queen, Lady Arryn, and Captain Creegan looked completely lost.
"I swear, I'm half tempted to make up a position just to get your brother back here. Something like Master of Inventions!" The king japes and everyone chuckles or pretends to as we continue to the Red Keep.
I spot the Wayfinders Guild Headquarters where I'll meet with Dagwell, Deputy Grandmaster of the guild and my brother's eyes and ears in the capital. The red-haired, blue-eyed Northerner in his twenties is going to accompany me on the trade voyage to Ibben on orders of my brother to both protect me and assist me in trade negotiations. Tomorrow I meet with him to discuss both the secrets and rumors of the capital the trade expedition that leaves in a week…
Four Days Later…
I stand with the hundreds of courtiers in the Great Hall, with the king gazing down from the Iron Throne and his Northern queen on the Queen's throne next to the Iron Throne and Lord Arryn as Hand standing at it's base holding court. The next petitioner draws the interest of the court, a diplomatic envoy from Lorath. Three pale, brown-haired men with dark brown eyes in high quality blue wool tunics and pants and clasped in cloaks made from massive spotted seals stand before King Robert after being announced by the herald. The oldest among the three and chief diplomat steps forth.
"A man wishes a thousand blessings upon you, King of the Iron Throne! Ever since you established a trading post in our fair city two years ago, trade between our people has flourished, bringing mutual prosperity to both our lands!" The head diplomat speaks accented Common Tongue but still speaks like someone who has been taught in the oratory arts. The Lorathi have a strange custom that comes from some dead religion where they say referred to themselves as "a man" and "a woman", instead of saying "I", "me", or "mine" and refuse to have names. I see some lords nod and murmur, the same ones who've invested in the Royal Trade Company and have trade ties with Lorath. The King responds in a deep, regal voice.
"Well met and be welcomed, Honored Ambassador of Lorath! Trade has indeed been bountiful between our people!" An exaggeration on the King's part. While trade has been increasing with Lorath and the Royal Trade Company is indeed profiting from its trading post, it's still the poorest of the Free Cities so the profits have been limited.
"House Baratheon and the Seven Kingdoms are always looking to forge stronger ties and increase trade with people who also abhor the evil of slavery!" I hear positive comments among the courtiers from the King pointing out Lorath's history of never having slavery similar to Braavos. One Crownlander near me quietly comments to another that he only trades with the Lorathi and Braavosi because that way he knows he isn't trading with slavers. The ambassador speaks again.
"Oh, great King of the Sunset Lands, we have been sent by the wise magisters of the High Council of Lorath for your assistance in a grave matter!" The ambassadors words draw the crowd in.
"A khalasar led by Khal Motho threatens our colony of Morosh at the mouth of the Sarne Delta! The khal demanded an exorbitant amount of tribute, far too much for us to able to pay! Now, over twenty thousand Dothraki screamers lay siege to our colony and we are barely able to hold and resupply it. A man beseeches you, King of the Sunset Lands, to lend us aid in saving our colony from the rapacious Dothraki slavers!" The news of the Dothraki siege surprises the court, with worried whispers about how this event will affect the trade expedition filling the court.
"And what kind of aid do you seek against the Dothraki horde, Honored Ambassador?" The king inquires.
"It is known that our fair city has a small navy and struggles to afford the Free Companies that roam Essos. Even with all the men we can spare from Lorath, we can only garrison three thousand men to defend our colony of thirty thousand people. If the Dothroki break through the wall, thousands with be horrifically slaughtered and thousands more carried off in chains…" I have to hand it to the ambassador, for not being a native speaker of Common Tongue, he is very good at mimicking the flowery way most Southroners speak.
"…We in Lorath have heard tales of the prowess of the knights in the Sunset lands, and in our desperation the High Council of Lorath asks you for military aid against Khal Motho!" The court becomes a filled with mutterings and comments form the courtiers, some stunned at a Free City asking the Seven Kingdoms for aid while others argue for and against giving aid to the Lorathi. I wasn't caught off guard by the ambassador's call for aid because I already knew why they were here. Dagwell explained it to me a few days ago, the Lorathi ambassadors arrived a few days earlier and negotiated with the King and Small Council in secret. What is being presented to the court is the result of that meeting.
The king raises his hand and a hush descends on the Great hall. "Honored Ambassador, you asked much of me and the Seven Kingdoms. Indeed, the trade has been mutually beneficial between our peoples, but you ask that good Westerosi men to risk their lives in far off lands. We are not sellswords who fight for coin but proud knights! What could you offer for it to be worth the coin spent and blood split?" I see many lords and ladies nod at the king's words and all eyes turn to the ambassador, who remains stoic under the scrutiny of the foreign court.
"Oh, Great King of the Seven Kingdoms, your words speak true! We indeed ask for much of our new friends and do not take your aid lightly. Not only will the City of Lorath be in the Seven Kingdoms' debt, we will sign a formal alliance between our peoples, pay for the transport, food, and housing of your men, double the size of the trading post held by the Royal Trading Company, lower tariffs on goods from these lands by one third, and will grant the trade company and Westerosi merchants special treatment, second only to the Braavosi!" The ambassadors proposal brings a storm of loud chatter among the courtiers, with some lords thinking the Lorathi deal great while others argue it isn't enough. I note the debate is now less on whether or not to intervene and more on whether the deal is worth it. The king silences the Great Hall again after pretending to mull over the proposal.
"You offer much, Honored Ambassador, but not enough to justify good Westerosi blood to be split protecting Morosh. You must triple the size of our trading post in Lorath, lower your tariffs on our goods by two thirds, and must grant the Seven Kingdoms and Royal Trade Company the exact same preferential treatment you give to Braavos!" King Robert "counter-proposes" to the approval of the courtiers. The three ambassadors gather and make a show of arguing amongst themselves before the lead ambassador turns back to the king and gives their answer.
"Oh, Great King of the Seven Kingdoms, we have no choice but to agree to your harsh terms! The City of Lorath is indebted to you for your generosity and wisdom in rendering us desperately needed aid in our time of need! Let this new alliance bring forth a new dawn upon our peoples!" The ambassador proclaims to the cheers of the courtiers, with the most enthusiastic being the houses tied to the Royal Trade Company. The more a house is invested in the company, the more they were in favor of this military intervention. I hear lords such as Grafton, Royce, Mooton, Rykker, Tarth, Rosby, and Manderly pledge the small number of men-at-arms and knights they can spare in the middle of winter. When added to the one thousand men pledged by the king amount to a little over two thousand men. Court ends with the king proclaiming his brother, Prince Stannis in charge of the both the small army and the small fleet needed to transport. Men would be gathered from King's Landing, Gulltown, and White Harbor, the latter two were already on the route to Lorath and Morosh. The trade expedition would be delayed for two weeks to prepare the added cogs and galleys with ravens to be sent out to gather the men closest to Gulltown and White Harbor. I ignore the talk of how the Dothraki can't stand up to Andal chivalry from a few courtiers when I meet the eyes of Lord Arryn, Hand of the King, who bids me over to where he is standing with the ambassadors.
"Ah, good. Honored Ambassadors, this is Edric Seastark, brother to Lord Hugo Seastark of Sea Dragon Point." The Lord Hand introduces me and to my surprise, recognition of the Seastark name flashes across their faces.
"The Sunset lander lord who made a device that always points North?" One of the ambassadors asks.
"The lord who made the perfume we import?" Another asks.
"The lord who constructed a ship faster than any Summer Islander swan ship or YiTish junk or treasure ship!" The head ambassador that spoke in court adds his own question and I answer all of them. The king and queen walk up to join us and I'm finally told why I'm speaking to the ambassadors. They ask me to take the ambassadors back to Lorath with a shipment of weapons and armor on the Thunderbolt and to ferry messages and food between the city and colony until the expedition arrives moons later. Lorath by clipper should take about two weeks instead of over a moon by galley or cog and Morosh in another two weeks. I agree when they promise to reward both myself and House Seastark for my efforts. And make plans with the ambassadors to leave the next morning…
Lorath, Mid Tenth Moon, 285 A.C., Five-and-ten days later…
The city of Lorath comes in sight I breath a sign of relief at finally making it to our current destination. Things got tense when we sighted pirates in the Narrow Sea but true to her name, the Thunderbolt sailed past them like a… well, thunderbolt.
Dagwell and I will drop off ambassadors and meet with the High Council before sailing for Morosh tomorrow with the shipment of weapons and armor to the beleaguered colony before returning to pick up supplies and men. I am a bit sad to part ways with the ambassadors, for people who usually don't go by names they have some colorful personalities and are hard drinkers. If their keen interest in the rocket stoves were any indication, House Seastark will make a lot of money them to wealthy Lorathi nobles and merchants.
Interlude: Edric 2
Morosh, Early Twelfth Moon, 285 A.C., Six weeks later…
I bet Hugo would like this game. I think to myself as I move an onyx elephant piece on the marble board, removing my opponent's ivory crossbowmen. Instead of being fazed, my opponent smirks and moves his ivory dragon to remove my elephant, leaving my king piece open to attack. I scrutinize the board in front of me, before moving a catapult piece to remove his dragon only for his heavy horse to remove my catapult, leaving my king exposed again. This is only the fifth time I've played Cyvasse, a boardgame popular in the Free Cities, but I find myself hooked.
"A man must admit, this is a fine ship. Are you certain a man cannot sell a clipper to this one?" A red-haired Lorathi translator named Vogan stands off to the side of the table, translating the words of the Prince of the Streets, Qarlan Ennarhan in accented Common Tongue. The tall, broad-shouldered, blonde-haired Lorathi prince wearing red woolen robes of his house colors cloaked in a sealskin cloak smiles as his translator speaks before moving a light horse piece near my rabble. The Prince of the Streets is one of three Princes of Lorath, purely ceremonial titles given to Lorathi highborn who are elected to their positions and hold them for life. Prince Qarlan Ennarhan, the Prince of Streets is elected by all the freemen of the city.
"Unfortunately, Prince Qarlan, you and the other princes heard Prince Stannis, the clippers, like the wayfinders, are not to be sold to non-Westerosi." I say diplomatically as I move a trebuchet piece to threaten his king. Prince Vygaro H'ghar, the Fisher Prince elected from all the Lorathi shipowners, frowns at my words, unintentionally revealing he can speak and understand Common Tongue without a translator. He moves a red circular piece on a red and black checkers board over a black piece before removing it from the board. Checkers is a game invented by my brother and like the wardens decks, is popular with the sailors, Sea Wolves, and men-at-arms of Sea Dragon Point. Words in the Lorathi tongue, a bastardized form of High Valyrian, flow from a new voice and I turn Vygaro's opponent to Prince Joran Tor'phal, the Harvest Prince elected from all the Lorathi landowners as Vogan translates.
"If the ship is unavailable for purchase then what about the other items on your ship? The portable stoves and water distiller are finely crafted as are the farming implements." He moves one of his back pieces and captures a red piece as I absorb the translator's words. I contemplate how many we have in storage. We're unable to sell the rocket stove and water distiller because those were the only ones we have on hand, the inventions only being around for a few moons. But I can sell a few of the plows, harnesses, and seed drills and still have some for Ibben.
"I can sell a few farming implements but I can't sell the rocket stove or distiller. I can, however, write to my brother to begin exporting them to Lorath." I respond as Prince Qarlan moves his king to create distance from my trebutchet. Vogan translates for me but the Fisher Prince cuts in, this time speaking accented Common Tongue.
"This one will pay handsomely for the right to import and sell your rocket stoves in Lorath. They are superior to the portable stoves from Yi-Ti." Prince Vygaro mentions the small portable stoves imported by the Essosi elite made of cast iron. The Yi-Tish don't trade directly with Lorath, their traders rarely entering the Narrow Sea, let alone the Shivering Sea, so instead, Lorathi traders sail to Volantis to acquire Yi-Tish goods, which gives me an idea. What if we acquire Yi-Tish goods and sail to places like Lorath to sell them for profit? I contemplate asking my brother as I move my trebuchet to threaten Prince Qarlan's king again. At the same time, a back and forth begins as I negotiate the price of the farming implements with the Harvester Prince. Prince Qarlan captures my trebuchet with his crossbowmen when I reach a settlement the Harvest Prince. Suddenly, I hear Dagwell burst through the door to the captain's quarters with panic on his face.
"Lord Edric, we've arrived at Morosh but look!" We abandon our games and follow Dagwell to the deck of the ship, passing by a group of five off duty Sea Wolves playing Wolfsport Hold'em. When we reach the bow, we gaze out to the gray stone walled city about the size of Wolfsport.
This is the second time I've been to Morosh, a fishing and mining colony of Lorath. My previous time here was to drop off a weapons shipment to the beleaguered defenders before escorting two dozen highborn women and children back to Lorath. This included Prince Qarlan's wife and beautiful daughter, who happened to be my age and was quite eager to show me her appreciation for getting them out of the city. When we sailed into Lorath again, Prince Stannis, his small army of three-and-twenty hundred, and the trade expedition had arrived two days earlier. He met with the Princes of Lorath and the council of magisters led by the Denomys Mestir, the true authority in the Free City, to hash out a war plan. I was tasked with escorting the three princes and their two-and-ten guards in the Thunderbolt to take command of the defense of the colony, creating a bit of a tight fit in the clipper. The Fisher Prince would command the small Lorathi Navy, the Harvest Prince would be charge of the food supply and logistics and the Prince of the Streets would take command of the garrison. The Royal Navy and trade expedition have already set off from Lorath but in their slower cogs and galleys won't arrive for a full two weeks after we do.
I see smoke rising and a city enveloped in chaos as the Dothraki assault the walls by the thousands.
"Look at the western wall!" Dagwell points to the wall closest to the harbor, the princes walk up beside us and curse in their native tongue. The eastern and southern walls facing land were under assault but holding, the western wall, on the other hand, looked to be on the verge of collapse. Qarlan Ennarhan speaks to Vogan in Lorathi, who turns to me.
"Lord Edric, can you spare any men to assist us in the defense. The western wall is on the brink of collapse but the other walls are too busy to aid them!" Vogan translates
"I can spare Dagwell, myself and five-and-twenty Sea Wolves." I gesture to the five-and-twenty Sea Wolves on my ship. Clad in brown leather armor with a large Seastark sigil on their chests and steel helms on their heads. The men, who have gone through weeks of my brother's grueling training regimen of miles long runs, strength training, spars on ships and more, are armed with polearms, boarding axes, and cutlasses and look eager to cross blades with the infamous Dothraki screamers.
"Then we can only pray we are enough." Vogan ominously translates as we disembark the ship. We rush with the princes and their two-and-ten guards towards the western wall to find the Dothraki starting to overwhelm the wall and the morale of the defenders beginning to waver. I'm quick to note that if we act now, we might be able to overwhelm the attackers before their numbers grow too large to contain.
"Dagwell, Sea Wolves with me! Retake the walls! WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOO!" I yell the Seastark house words and howl at the top of my lungs.
"WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOOO!" The Seawolves and Dagwell let out a fierce war cry and charge. As we make our way to the walls, I see the defenders notice us and one begins to shout in their tongue. I can't understand them but they sound relieved to see us, judging from the man's tone. I charge up the stairs with the Seawolves towards to find two dozen defenders being pushed back by more than twice their number of furred clad Dothraki screamers with more being added by the two wooden ladders attached to the wall.
One Dothraki, with three braids, charges at me, screaming with his strange sickle-shaped sword and I parry his blow with the sword my brother gave me, the very first sword forged from steel made in his ingenious steel furnace. I bash the man with my shield, stunning him and giving me the time needed to stab my blade through his chest. The Sea Wolves immediately engage the Dothraki in fierce battle, the Northerners fighting to reach the ladders to tip over or disable them. The Lorathi defenders' morale bolsters at our unexpected aid and they begin to fight harder against the invaders
I move forward and engage another Dothraki, this time with five braids, recalling how in Dothraki custom, a braid with a bell is weaved into the hair of their warriors for each kill. His attacks are fierce and powerful but uncoordinated. I feint a shield bash, drawing an opening when he goes to defend it and I slice his arm just below the elbow. The copper-skinned man bellows in agony before I stab him in the throat and move forward to parry an incoming attack from a sickle-sword. I exchange blades with the Dothraki screamer, who is using both hands to wield his sword as it seems the Dothraki don't believe in shields. I deflect a heavy overhand strike swipe with my shield before running my blade through him.
I step forward again and notice we're closer to the ladders than we were before and that they're were less Dothraki. Dagwell slices the throat of a Dothraki and moves on to another one and the Sea Wolves begin to push back the savages. I send a silent prayer to the Old Gods for my brother's "stamina training", the awful miles long runs around Wolfsport allowing us to outlast the Dothraki in battle. I fight and slay two more screamers before reaching one of the ladders where a massive Dothraki, at least a foot taller than me, slays a defender with ease before turning to me, wielding a sword in each hand.
His furs are noticeably nicer than the his fellow Dothraki and he has four silver metal bands around his brown mustache, the same brown color as two dozen braids on his head. He points his right arm sword at me and yells something in his savage tongue but I immediately attack and put him on the defensive. He blocks one of my swipes and uses his immense size and strength to push me back and I barely have enough time to block one sword strike with my shield and another with my sword. He feints a swipe to my left before attacking my right and I duck under a horizontal slash that would have taken my head before thrusting my sword forward only for him to jump back and dodge, putting some space between us. I meet his cold brown eyes before we surge forward and cross blades again. Our weapons whirl around us in a blur between each heavy clang before catches me on a feint and punishes me with a slash to the left shoulder, the leather armor fails to stop the blade from cutting into my flesh and I let out a hiss of pain. The Dothraki smirks before continuing his onslaught, focusing on my now weaker left arm holding my shield due to my shoulder wound. I finally get an opening when a particularly heavy strike to my shield knocks me backwards but I exaggerate how much the blow affected me by wobbling more than needed and loudly yelling in pain. My opponent takes the bait and rushes forward to attack, thinking I'm completely open, only for me to quickly recover and parry one of his blades. The other meets my shield in a loud clang that sends a jolt of pain in my left shoulder but I ignore it when I use the opening to run my blade into his chest. The warrior's face freezes, not in agony but in shock, as if him losing wasn't suppose to happen before slumping over as I pull my blade out.
I don't take the moment to savor the hard-fought victory and rush towards the siege ladder.
"KHALAKKA VEKHATJIN! VEZOF!" I hear one of the savages yell out and chaos breaks out amongst their numbers and I spot Dagwell at the ladder trying to dislodge it. I get to the ladder to find a screamer standing at the top about to jump down and attack him. I don't give him the chance when I stab him in the groin with my sword. He bellows in agony, wobbles and falls backwards, but not before his foot catches the man underneath him and pulls him down. The two men plummet towards the ground with one of them catching a third man on the way down. I quickly rush to help Dagwell dislodge the ladder and with the reduced wait and our combined strength we manage to do it. I turn to see a group of three Sea Wolves dislodge the other ladder as the few Dothraki left on the walls were being mopped up by the defenders.
When the last savage is slain by a Sea Wolf, I raise my sword and call out the Seastark house words, only to have two-and-twenty respond. I hiss in pain from my shoulder wound when I hear Dagwell call out.
"Lord Edric, you're injured!" He immediately hands me a rag and I sheath my sword to apply the rag to the wound.
"I'll be good once I get to the ship's healer. He'll clean it with the "woundcleanser" and apply the bandages. Until, collect the bodies of the fallen so their bones may be taken back to the North." I grit my teeth and Dagwell carries out my orders. The woundcleanser is a clear liquid that reeked strongly of alcohol, used to clean wounds and prevent rot from taking hold. Made after my brother started working with one of the local brandy distillers to create it.
When we move to leave, we're stopped by the three princes and Vogan translates.
"A thousand thanks for the assistance of you and your men. We are fortunate you killed the khalakka when you did. It caused the attack to stop before they could overrun us! You and your men will be richly rewarded!" I furrow my brow in confusion at the unfamiliar word. Vogan, witnessing my confusion, explains.
"A khalakka is the heir to a khalasar. The large warrior you slayed was Botho, Khal Motho's second born son!" I'm shocked at the translator's words but nod.
"I remember a tall Dothraki in nicer furs and some silver but I didn't realize I slayed their prince!" I gaze over the walls to the Dothraki siege camps out of arrow range next to the frozen Sarne river delta. I spot thousands of animal hide tents and even a few small structures completely made of ice! In the distance I can see large herds of reindeer and musk oxen as well as their precious horses and warriors and slaves scurry around the camp like ants.
"How would you like to collect your bounty?" Vogan asks, drawing my eyes away from the horde surrounding the city.
"Bounty?" I murmur in confusion and the translator nods.
"Yes, you and your men assisted in the defense of the city and you have slain a khalakka in personal combat! The princes and magisters have placed bounties on Khal Motho and his sons after they killed our messengers of peace so how would you like to be compensated?" The translator asks again but the ache of the wound and the heaviness of my body now that the battle high is gone leaves me wanting to get my wound dealt with and pass out.
"We'll talk compensation after I get patched up and we deal with the three dead." I leave with the five other wounded Sea Wolves, some of whom have to be supported by their comrade back to the Thunderbolt for some woundcleanser, bandages, and shut-eye…
Two weeks later…
"ATHDRIVAR TAT KAZGA VER!" The eastern gate shakes from the force of the battering ram slamming into it. My bandaged shoulder aches as I hear the Dothraki scream the same war cry they've called out the last four times they attacked since we arrived. When asked, Vogan translated it to "Death to the black wolf!" from their tongue and it didn't take a maester to figure out they were referring to me. Apparently the death of his son and heir infuriated Khal Motho and he proclaimed any Dothraki that brings him the head of the "black wolf warrior" will become a new ko in his khalasar.
The once three thousand defenders of the colony now reduced to half that number, spread thin along the walls of the city as more than ten thousand Dothraki swarm the walls and assault the gates. The gate shudders again from another blow, pieces of wood flying off but still holding. I gaze up to the walls to see Dagwell and seven of the remaining four-and-ten Sea Wolves dislodge a wooden ladder before clashing with the Dothraki already on the walls. I grip the spear given by the Lorathi as I stand with the other seven remaining Sea Wolves, the Fisher Prince and several hundred defenders as a loud boom reverberates throughout the area and the broken gates slam wide.
"ATHDRIVAR TAT KAZGA VER!" The invaders call for my head as I see a menacing battering ram with a large iron horse head before dozens of Dothraki horsemen attempt to swarm into the city, charging straight into a shield wall hastily put up by the defenders. The spears stab the horses and Dothraki with their agonized screams echoing in the gatehouse, yet still they charge.
"Lord Edric!" I hear Prince Vygaro call out from atop his white warhorse. "The center is holding but the flanks are being pushed back!" I look and confirm his words. The invaders were slowly pushing outward from the flanks, threatening to envelop the center and crush the defenders of the gates in one fell swoop.
"Take your men and aid the left flank, my men and I will aid the right flank!" The Fisher Prince orders before charging with his men towards the fighting.
"You heard the Lorathi prince, hold the left flank! WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOO!" I yell out my house words and howl before charging, the Sea Wolves mimicking my actions and following one step behind. Rather than intimidate the savages, our wolf howls send them into a frenzy. The howls alerting them to the presence of the "black wolf" that their khal put a bounty on.
We reach the left flank just as the Dothraki bloodriders were beginning to overwhelm the defenders through sheer mass, numbers, and ferocity moving immediately to engage. I stab a Dothraki with my spear and he falls off his horse, who moves out of the way just for another bloodrider to come screaming at me. I plant my feet and bend my knees slightly before thrusting my spear into the charging horse. I hit in the chest and the momentum of the horse pushes me back and causes the rider to launch forwards headfirst into the cobblestone streets and landing with a sickening crunch. I yank my spear out of the dead horse and rejoin the shield wall.
The Sea Wolves and I fall into a deadly rhythm. Stab, yank, parry, stab, then repeat. We hold the left flank from their relentless charges amidst being pelted by arrows, javelins, and throwing axes. After what feels like hours, I hear a man scream something in Lorathi before the Dothraki break through the center.
The bloodriders spill forth into the city like a flood and with all the fury of one. I spot a throwing axe incoming and side step to avoid it before stabbing my spear into another rider, killing him. I call for the five remaining Sea Wolves to fall back when I hear yells, not in Lorathi but in Common Tongue!
"WE REMEMBER!" "AS STRONG AS STONE!" "HARK THE RAVEN!" "LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS!" I hear the house words of House Royce, Redfort, Corbray, Waxley, and other Vale houses as fresh Westerosi men-at-arms clash with bloodied, exhausted Dothraki.
I yell out my house words and howl with the remaining five Sea Wolves and charge at the invaders. I knock another bloodrider off his horse before finishing him off. I watch a Sea Wolf take a throwing axe to the face and crumple to the ground before I turn around and meet the charge of another Dothraki rider. I stab into his horse, sending the man flying forwards. I attempt to yank the spear out of the dying horse only for the shaft to break. I throw away the useless shaft and as I draw my sword I sense someone behind me.
"LOOK OUT!" I hear a Vale accent call out and turn around in time to see a man in partial plate armor stab a Dothraki with his sword about to swing down on me. His steel breastplate shows what looks like the Titan of Braavos as he pulls his sword from the dead man. Before I can thank him for saving my life, more Dothraki pour through the gates and we continue to battle the invaders.
After what feels like hours, just as I'm on my last legs, I hear the Dothraki yell out something in their tongue and confusion ripples throughout their ranks. Then all hell breaks lose as some Dothraki slit their own throats, others begin attacking each other while most flee out of the gate to their camps with the Lorathi defenders cheering. I glance at the man who saved me and he seems as confused as I am to the sudden change in the Dothraki. The Westerosi knights glance around in confusion before the Fisher Prince walks up bloodied but smiling.
"Khal Motho is dead! His bloodriders kill themselves out of shame and his kos are abandoning the siege to start their own khalasars! Morosh is saved!" Prince Vygaro calls out in Common Tongue. I and the Westerosi within earshot let out cheers of jubilation before disposing of the few remaining Dothraki on the walls.
After the battle ends, I regroup with a bloodied Dagwell and ten remaining Sea Wolves.
"Lord Edric of House Seastark?" I hear my name and see Ser Robar Royce, Ser Jasper Redfort, and Ser Lyn Corbray walking up to us.
"Aye, that's me." I say with an exhausted voice, the last two weeks having taken their toll on me.
"Lord Edric, I see you've survived the Dothraki savages. We're currently securing the city but tell us of the siege!" Ser Robar says and I tell them of slaying Khalakka Jotho on my first day here, the four following attacks on the city that I aided in repelling, including this one. Their eyes widen at what we had to endure and I see respect in their eyes, albeit begrudgingly from Ser Lyn. Ser Robar explains that Prince Stannis led the Stormlanders and Crownlanders to the southern gate while Ser Wendel Manderly led the Northerners to defend the western gate. Our conversation shifts to Cyvasse when Ser Lyn brings up the Essosi boardgame and it turns out the three knights shared my newfound love for the game along with Prince Stannis. I suddenly remember to ask about the knight who saved me.
"By the way, a Vale knight saved my life in the final part of the battle. I didn't recognize his house sigil but it looked like the head of the Titan of Braavos. Do you know who and where he is so I can express my gratitude." I say and see their faces light up in surprise and recognition.
"Yes, that's Lord Petyr of House Baelish! He's not a knight but he's over there by Ser Benedar of House Elesham." Ser Jasper points to a thin, brown-haired man who looks four or five years older than me. Lord Petyr has taken his helm off but I recognize the house sigil on his breastplate. I thank the Vale knights and head over to the man who saved my life, despite being surprised he isn't a knight.
"Lord Petyr?" I inquire and the man turns and looks surprised at my presence before excusing himself from Ser Benedar.
"I am him. What do you wish to discuss Lord Edric?" Lord Petyr smirks and I'm put on edge by the slimy nature of it.
"Lord Petyr, you saved my life when you slayed that Dothraki screamer while my back was turned." I say solemnly and his smirk widens.
"Oh, it was nothing Lord Edric! I am no warrior! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time!" Lord Petyr responds.
"I don't know about you southerners, but we Northmen take this kind of thing seriously. I owe you a blood debt." I say and his face flashes with intrigue.
"A blood debt?" He repeats the words inquisitively.
"Aye. For saving my life, I owe you what we Northerners call a 'blood debt'. It means I owe you a favor. You can call it in at any time and I will do almost anything. Someone who owes a blood debt can refuse a favor if it, let's say, involves kinslaying." I explain.
"Oh, I would never ask you to do something so heinous as kinslaying!" He says in grave offense but I get the impression he's putting on a mummer's act. We talk, him about working for the Royal Trade Company collecting customs duties implementing the New Royal Standard, the new standard or weights and measurements proclaimed by the King. It mixes the King's Landing, Storm's End, and Eyrie standards into one similar to how the Common standard is a mix of multiple standards into one. I talk about my journey here and the battles I fought. Despite him seeming a bit smarmy, I find him to be a good conversation partner Eventually the conversation winds down and he goes to part ways.
"It has been an honor to meet you, Lord Edric! It's good to know that the brother of 'Hugo the Inventor' owes me a favor. I won't use it now, but rest assured you'll hear from me." He gives me one last smirk as he mentions the nickname my brother has been given by the Southroners before leaving. Ser Robar calls out to the Westerosi that all highborn are to meet with Prince Stannis is the city palace, home to the magister that runs Morosh, while the men-at-arms hold the walls and gates against any unexpected Dothraki attack. I let out a tired sign and head with the knights and lords deeper into the city to meet with the prince…
A/N: The siege of Morosh is finished! Edric gets his chance to shine and Petyr Baelish makes his debut! The defeat of the Dothraki due to Westerosi intervention is going to have impacts in the immediate neighborhood and eventually, elsewhere.
In the books, Cyvasse is just starting to make it to Westeros and becoming popular with the highborn. Here, the Westerosi are introduced to it by the Lorathi earlier and it's going to cross the Narrow Sea a good decade and half earlier than canon. Cyvasse is going to take the place of chess, but don't worry, Hugo's already invented checkers! Enjoy!