[The Sunset Sea, 6th Moon, 299 AC]
The Ironborn did not attack before nightfall, despite Benjicot having half expected them to.
Victarion Greyjoy had enough ships on the western horizon to make a reckless assault tempting, particularly after finding the remains of the raiding force Benjicot had broken earlier that day. Yet as darkness settled over the Sunset Sea, the Ironborn sails remained distant, disappearing one by one into the failing light rather than rushing forward beneath drums and war cries.
A fool would have come straight at them.
Victarion, apparently, was not a fool.
The northern fleet remained drawn tightly together through the night, with damaged vessels protected in the center and the stronger warships maintaining the outer line. Lanterns were kept low, archers slept near their bows, and every captain had orders to sound a horn at the first sign of approaching oars. Benjicot slept perhaps two hours in his cabin before giving up entirely and returning to the deck.
By dawn, Victarion had begun moving.
Lord Jason Mallister stood beside Benjicot near the stern of the Winter Wolf, watching through the grey morning light as Ironborn longships divided into three groups. The largest body remained west of them while two smaller forces pulled away, one north and another toward the southeast.
Jason studied the movement for a long while before speaking. "It would seem Victarion Greyjoy intends to split our attention."
Benjicot nodded. The northern group had perhaps fifteen longships, while the southern force looked slightly smaller. Both were fast enough to threaten coastal settlements long before Benjicot's heavier vessels could catch them if he reacted too late.
"The northern ships could reach Flint lands if they keep that course," he said, leaning both hands against the rail as he watched their sails. "The southern group could turn for Seagard, or simply circle around us and strike somewhere farther down the coast. If I send ships after both, Victarion comes straight through the middle."
Jason's eyes remained on the distant Ironborn center. "And if you send nothing, those ships may burn whatever they find."
"Aye."
There was no good answer to that, which was exactly why Victarion had done it.
Benjicot had spent the better part of twenty years escorting merchant convoys, fighting pirates and occasionally hunting men foolish enough to prey upon White Harbor shipping. Most of those enemies had wanted gold or cargo. They avoided strong fleets because survival mattered more than proving themselves.
The Ironborn were different.
Victarion did not need to destroy every northern ship that morning. He merely needed Benjicot to become frightened enough for the coast that he divided his force.
Ser Marlon Manderly joined them from the forecastle, having already spoken with the signalmen. "The captains are asking whether they should pursue. Ser Wendel Snow is particularly eager to chase the northern detachment."
"Tell Ser Wendel that if he leaves formation without my order, I will personally have his ship tow the captured longships back to White Harbor with spoons for oars."
Marlon's mouth twitched, but he waited for the actual command.
Benjicot straightened and looked again toward the coast. "No pursuit. Signal every ship to maintain formation. The coastal castles were warned before we sailed, and every lord with sense has pulled exposed villagers inland. A dozen longships can burn farms, but they cannot take Deepwood or Torrhen's Square without a proper army behind them."
Jason glanced toward him. "You are willing to let them raid."
"I am willing to let stone walls do their work while we deal with the fleet that makes the raids possible." Benjicot's jaw tightened as he watched the smaller Ironborn groups continue away. "I do not like it, but if Victarion wants me chasing every squid that points toward shore, he can keep wanting."
Jason nodded slowly. "Good. Because the moment you divide this fleet, he stops pretending those other groups matter."
Benjicot knew people might die because of it.
He also knew considerably more would die if Victarion broke the fleet and opened the western coast entirely.
The larger Ironborn formation began advancing before midday.
This time there was no attempt to disguise the movement. Longships came forward in several loose lines rather than a single mass, each group separated enough that the heavier northern ships could not catch all of them in one turn.
Benjicot watched the pattern for several minutes before understanding it.
"He does not mean to attack the center."
Jason followed his gaze. "No. He learned enough from his allies' failure yesterday."
Victarion was pushing his fastest ships toward the ends of the northern formation while keeping heavier concentrations behind them. If Benjicot reinforced either flank too aggressively, the opposite group would close. If the northern formation became disordered, the Ironborn could pick individual ships apart.
"He wants gaps," Benjicot nodded. "Do not give him any."
The first arrows began falling shortly afterward.
Unlike the raiders they had fought the previous day, Victarion's captains did not continue straight into the northern bows. Their longships swept closer, loosed arrows, and pulled away before the heavier vessels could close.
A sailor beside Benjicot cursed as another volley struck the side of the Winter Wolf.
"They are pecking at us."
"Aye, those squids are looking for someone impatient," Benjicot replied, his eyes following the nearest longship as it turned away. "Do not oblige them."
For nearly an hour, the Ironborn refused close battle.
Then smoke appeared from one of the northern escorts.
Fire arrows had caught along bundled sailcloth near the stern, and several sailors rushed toward it with buckets while the escort drifted slightly out of position.
Three longships immediately changed course.
"There," Jason said sharply. "That is what he has been waiting for."
Benjicot turned toward the signalman. "Two ships support her, no more. Everyone else holds."
The nearest northern warship shifted outward while a smaller Mallister vessel followed. Arrows passed between the approaching longships and the burning escort, and for several moments Benjicot thought Victarion might commit more ships to the attack.
Instead, the Ironborn pulled away.
Jason let out a slow breath. "He was testing whether you would send half the line after them."
"He will test it again," Benjicot replied, still watching the Ironborn ships.
"He only needs you to fail once."
The southern edge of the northern formation suddenly came under attack from nearly twenty longships. Grappling hooks flew before the captains there could turn away, and the fight became close almost immediately.
Benjicot began issuing orders before the first horn finished sounding.
"Bring the center south by half a turn. Do not break the northern end. Marlon, signal the Manderly ships behind us to close the distance, but keep them together. If Victarion sees the center open, he will drive straight through it."
Marlon repeated the orders and moved quickly toward the signal crew.
Jason remained beside Benjicot, watching the battle spread. "If those southern ships lose another vessel, they may start pulling back whether you order it or not."
"Then send them my banner and remind them I am watching."
The southern fight soon worsened.
Two Ironborn longships grappled a northern escort from opposite sides while another swept behind it and showered the deck with arrows. Men climbed over the rails beneath raised round shields, and within moments the fighting became impossible to follow from a distance.
Benjicot wanted to reinforce them, but that was exactly what Victarion wanted as well.
He looked west and saw that the Ironborn center had begun moving. They weren't moving quickly, but were waiting for his next move.
Benjicot felt something cold settle in his stomach. "He is watching me."
Jason nodded. "Aye."
"He expects me to throw the center south."
"And if you do, his main force goes through whatever gap you leave."
Benjicot watched northern men dying on the distant deck. Then he saw another possibility. "Signal the southern ships to fall back toward us," he said, turning toward Jason.
Jason looked at him sharply. "You mean to give ground?"
"I mean to make Victarion think they are breaking. If his southern captains follow, they come closer to our heavier center instead of pulling us away from it."
Jason considered the distance, his expression tightening as he worked through the risk. "They will need to withdraw cleanly. If one turns too early, the others may mistake the order for retreat."
"That is why Mallister ships are there. Send your banner with the signal."
Jason stared at him for a moment before nodding. The horns then sounded, and the southern and northern ships began pulling inward. For several uncomfortable minutes, it looked far too much like a rout.
The Ironborn saw the same thing and their southern group surged after them.
Benjicot simply waited.
Longships came faster now, abandoning the careful harassment that had defined the morning. One northern escort took another grappling hook but cut it loose without stopping. A second vessel turned just enough to fire a close volley into the pursuing ships before continuing toward the center.
Victarion's main formation also began moving. Jason watched them and swore quietly. "He knows something is wrong."
"Perhaps, but all that means is that we shall find out which of us is more stubborn."
Benjicot raised his hand toward the signalman. "Heavy ships forward. Archers ready. Let the southern line pass through the gaps, then close them."
The Winter Wolf moved with the center.
Benjicot felt the familiar roll beneath his boots as the broad ship turned toward the approaching Ironborn. Around them, Manderly warships and armed merchantmen shifted into position, their higher decks lined with bowmen.
The withdrawing northern escorts passed between them. Then the gaps closed. The pursuing longships suddenly found themselves facing the heaviest ships in Benjicot's fleet.
"Loose!" he roared, his voice being followed by the twang of hundreds of bows, with hundreds of arrows falling upon the Ironborn.
The first Ironborn ranks disappeared beneath shields, but rowers had nowhere to hide. Men toppled over benches, oars slipped loose, and one longship turned sharply when half its portside rowers stopped pulling together.
Crossbows soon followed, but the Ironborn kept coming anyway.
Benjicot heard their drums change as the main fleet finally committed.
"That is Victarion," Jason said, looking toward the largest concentration approaching from the west. "He has decided he would rather fight than watch us ruin his flank."
Benjicot drew his sword, though the enemy was still distant. "About damned time."
The next hour was nothing like the battle before it. There was no clean trap once the fleets met. Longships drove between northern vessels where they could, grappling anything they reached. Northern ships used their heavier hulls to force Ironborn aside, while archers fired until there was no longer enough room to draw bows safely.
The Winter Wolf struck one longship almost bow-on and broke several of its oars before another slammed into her opposite side. Ironborn poured over the rail, and Benjicot met them with the household men around him.
An axe struck the shield of the man to his left and split deeply enough that the wood trapped the blade. Benjicot stepped forward before the Ironborn could free it and drove his sword into the gap beneath the man's mail.
Another came behind him with a spear, and Benjicot turned sideways, felt the point scrape across his hauberk, then caught the shaft beneath one arm while one of his sailors buried an axe in the attacker's shoulder.
There was no time to thank him.
Jason Mallister had been pulled toward the port rail, where half a dozen Ironborn were trying to force their way aboard beneath overlapping shields.
Benjicot shoved through the crush toward him. "Still think we should have moved closer to shore?" he shouted over the fighting.
Jason glanced toward him while driving his sword around the edge of a shield. "Ask me if we live through the next hour."
The fighting spread from ship to ship.
At one point Benjicot saw a huge man in plate standing near the prow of an Ironborn vessel perhaps forty yards away, swinging an axe while men around him shouted beneath the kraken banner.
Victarion Greyjoy.
He was closer than Benjicot expected. For several moments their ships moved almost parallel. Benjicot could see the Greyjoy clearly enough to recognize that the stories had not exaggerated his size.
Marlon appeared beside him with blood across one cheek. "We can try for him."
Benjicot looked at the ships separating them. Three longships already stood between the Winter Wolf and Victarion's vessel, with more Ironborn closing from behind.
"No. That is what gets captains killed while chasing glory. Hold formation."
Marlon nodded without argument.
Victarion's ship disappeared behind the fighting moments later.
By mid-afternoon, the Ironborn attack began losing its shape, weakening under their assault.
The northern ships had suffered badly enough that several were pulling wounded men below by the dozen, but Victarion had failed to open the gaps he needed. His longships could board individual vessels, yet every ship they grappled remained close enough to another northern vessel that arrows and reinforcements arrived before the Ironborn could take it cleanly.
Benjicot saw the change before the retreat began. Ironborn ships stopped pressing deeper, with captains turning west and signals passing through their lines.
"He is leaving," Jason said, breathing heavily beside him. "Do you intend to follow?"
"For a while," Benjicot replied, reaching a steady rhythm with his own breathing now. "We shall not overextend, but we will give them some chase."
Jason looked toward the damaged northern ships around them. "Not with all of these."
"No. The heavy ships stay together. Send the least damaged escorts after them far enough to make certain he keeps moving west. Nobody follows beyond sight of the main fleet."
Jason nodded. "That I can agree with."
The pursuit lasted less than an hour, with Benjicot ending it himself when Victarion's surviving longships had opened enough distance that catching them would require the northern formation to scatter.
He had won the sea and the battle. There was no reason to lose it by trying to prove a point.
[Later that evening]
Two northern ships had sunk during the fighting, and another was unlikely to survive the night. Four more carried serious damage. The dead had already passed two hundred by the time Marlon brought Benjicot the latest tally, and the wounded were numerous enough that every spare stretch of deck below had become crowded.
The Ironborn losses were harder to judge, with at least a dozen longships sunk or burned. Nine more had been taken intact enough to tow, and several crippled vessels had been abandoned during Victarion's retreat.
Benjicot sat on an overturned chest while a healer stitched a cut above his ribs that he had not noticed until the battle ended. Jason stood nearby with one arm bound tightly against his chest.
"You should have that looked at properly," Benjicot said.
Jason gave him a weary look. "I have. That is why it is bound."
"Broken?" he asked, wincing as the healer finished the stitch
"Bruised badly. Perhaps cracked. The maester will decide once he finishes with men who are actually dying."
Benjicot nodded.
The sounds around them were quieter now. Hammers struck damaged rails. Wounded men groaned below. Sailors moved among the captured longships, searching for anything useful before night fully settled.
Marlon approached carrying a damp parchment.
"Reports from the northern escorts. The raiding group Victarion sent north never joined the battle. They continued toward the coast, but one of our faster ships shadowed them long enough to see signal fires already burning inland. Flint men were warned before they reached shore."
Benjicot let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. "And the southern force?" he asked. "What of them?"
"Turned west once Victarion withdrew. Mallister scouts followed until dusk."
Jason nodded slowly. "Then he failed to pull us apart and failed to land anything substantial."
"Aye," Marlon said. "There is more. One of the prisoners we took this afternoon claims Balon expected Deepwood Motte and the Flint holdings to fall quickly once the main fleet arrived. He thought most of the North's fighting men were south with King Alaric."
Benjicot gave a tired laugh. "Qarl told us as much yesterday."
"This man added that Victarion was supposed to secure the sea before additional men crossed from the islands. If that is true, those reinforcements may be sitting at Pyke waiting for a fleet that has just gone home missing half its teeth."
Jason looked west toward the dark horizon. "Victarion still has plenty of ships."
"He does," Benjicot replied, standing slowly despite the protest from his stitched side. "Enough to raid, enough to kill men, and enough to make another fight expensive. But not enough to sail wherever he pleases while pretending we are not here."
He walked toward the rail. The sea beyond was littered with wreckage. Broken shields floated between pieces of oar and blackened wood. Farther away, one Ironborn hull still burned low in the water, the flames reflected across the waves.
Benjicot did not feel victorious looking at it, rather, he felt tired. Yet the northern fleet remained between the Iron Islands and the North.
"Send word north," he said after a while. "Winterfell first, then every western coastal house we can reach. Tell them Victarion attacked in strength and has withdrawn west after heavy losses. Make it clear that the danger is not finished, because I do not want some fool sending half his garrison home tomorrow morning."
Marlon nodded and waited.
Benjicot continued, his gaze still fixed on the darkening sea. "Send another message for his grace wherever the ravens can find him. Tell him Balon misjudged what remained in the North and Victarion has paid for it. We will hold the western sea and watch for another attempt, but unless the Greyjoys suddenly grow a second fleet, they are not taking the North this moon."
Jason came to stand beside him, favoring his injured arm. "That should please your king."
"It will annoy him at first, in my experience."
Jason gave him a questioning look.
"He will have wanted to be here." Benjicot laughed lightly, with Marlon joining him.
Around them, the northern sailors continued repairing ships beneath the fading light while the captured kraken banners were pulled down one after another.
The Iron Islands remained dangerous.
But the invasion they had expected to break open the western coast had found a fleet waiting for it, and for now, the road from Pyke to the North was closed.