While many events were unfolding outside Deepwood Motte, where Robb Stark was being held captive, another dangerous scheme was taking shape within Tywin Lannister's camp.
"Once you've completed your mission, leave immediately," Victarion Greyjoy said coldly. "You may take Tywin Lannister's head, but nothing else. Those are Lord Balon's direct orders."
Hidden in the darkness outside the Lannister camp, Roose Bolton silently watched his men slip into the enemy encampment.
Beside him stood Victarion Greyjoy, the Iron Captain of the Iron Fleet and younger brother of Balon Greyjoy, holding a burning torch.
"I only want Tywin Lannister's head," Victarion repeated. "Everything else belongs to you."
Roose Bolton simply nodded.
"You have my word."
Victarion studied him for a long moment before turning away, leaving the cold and calculating Lord of the Dreadfort to oversee the operation.
Time passed.
Eventually, the infiltrators returned.
Unfortunately...
They had come back empty-handed.
Roose's expression darkened.
"What happened?"
One of the men lowered his head.
"Tywin Lannister... is gone."
---
Far across the Narrow Sea, another conspiracy was quietly unfolding.
"You insist on continuing this operation?"
"Then the price has changed."
"We're taking a greater risk than we originally agreed upon."
"You understand, Lady Jena Lannister."
"We're not raising our price without reason."
"What we're about to do is worth much more."
The speaker was Vargo Hoat, commander of the infamous Brave Companions, better known throughout Westeros as the Bloody Mummers.
The conversation took place in Sisterton, on one of the Three Sisters.
A Braavosi "merchant fleet" had docked there under the excuse that winter was approaching and this would be the final voyage across the Narrow Sea before storms made travel impossible.
It was a convincing excuse.
Unfortunately...
The port's owner, Lord Alexandar Torrent, had paid for believing it with his life.
---
The Narrow Sea separated Westeros from Essos.
During summer, the crossing was relatively safe.
By autumn, however, violent storms made navigation increasingly dangerous.
Winter made the route nearly impossible.
A fleet foolish enough to cross during this season could easily lose two-thirds of its ships.
Even so...
The Narrow Sea also served as the natural shield separating the Seven Kingdoms from the Free Cities.
Most merchants who continued trading at this time of year instead sailed through the Stepstones.
Unfortunately, the Stepstones were plagued by pirates, sellswords, and endless warfare.
For centuries, the Free Cities had fought over those islands, constantly hiring mercenary companies to secure their trade routes.
---
Vargo Hoat was a tall, gaunt man from Qohor with a scraggly black goatee.
Around his neck hung a necklace made of coins collected from every land where he had fought.
Whenever he spoke, he sounded as though he were constantly chewing something.
His words slurred together, and saliva frequently dripped from his mouth.
Jena had gradually learned to ignore the unpleasant habit.
Rather than responding immediately to his demands, she calmly turned toward the other mercenary commanders she had hired using funds provided by the Iron Bank.
Time had been short.
Immediately after securing financial support from the Iron Bank, she had begun recruiting sellsword companies throughout Braavos.
Fortunately, the recent wars in Westeros had just ended, leaving many companies unemployed after their contracts expired.
Besides the infamous Brave Companions, Jena had successfully hired four additional companies:
- The Second Sons
- The Long Lances
- The Cat's Companions
Together, they numbered nearly eight thousand fighting men.
---
The commander of the Second Sons was Mero, known throughout Essos as The Titan's Bastard.
He was a massive Braavosi with pale green eyes and a thick red-gold beard that reached his waist.
The Second Sons were notorious.
Few respectable rulers willingly hired them.
But Jena wasn't in a position to be selective.
The commander of the Long Lances was Gyloro Rhegan.
Despite looking more like a humble cobbler than a soldier, his company possessed one tremendous advantage—
Eight hundred cavalry.
That alone made them worth hiring.
The strongest company, however, was the Cat's Companions.
Jena had discovered them almost by chance while recruiting in Braavos.
Their numbers alone nearly equaled the combined strength of all the other companies.
Their commander...
Bloodbeard.
A towering brute with a massive beard, fiery sideburns, long braided hair, and shoulders as broad as a bull.
Cruel.
Violent.
Greedy.
Lustful.
He cared little for peace or politics.
Wine.
Women.
Gold.
Those were the only things that interested him.
The reason he had agreed to serve Jena was simple.
The very first day they met...
She had already given him exactly what he wanted.
Still...
Business was business.
When negotiations began, Bloodbeard had no intention of helping her.
He took another long drink before speaking.
"The Goat's right."
"You'll have to pay more."
Then, grinning shamelessly, he added,
"And after this war..."
"You belong to me."
His greedy eyes lingered on Jena.
Nearby...
The body of Lord Alexandar Torrent still lay on the floor.
His throat had been ripped open by Bloodbeard after becoming suspicious of the so-called merchant fleet.
His blood soaked into the wooden floorboards.
Beside him lay the bodies of his four household guards.
None had survived.
---
Jena remained perfectly calm.
"I've already increased your payment."
"This is an entirely different matter."
She knew better than anyone that giving in once would only encourage endless future demands.
Not every mercenary company possessed the discipline and honor of the Golden Company.
Vargo Hoat shook his head.
"But this changes everything."
"A dragon has appeared."
"We heard the stories from the Reach as soon as we landed."
"It changes the risks."
Jena remained unmoved.
The Iron Bank still held the funds.
None of the sellsword companies could receive payment without her authorization.
That contract also guaranteed her personal safety.
The four companies balanced one another's ambitions.
No single commander dared eliminate her and risk losing everything.
"My final offer is twenty percent more."
"You'll receive it only after completing your objective."
"There will be no further negotiations."
The commanders exchanged silent glances.
Realizing they couldn't squeeze any more money from her...
They reluctantly backed down.
Mero finally stepped in to calm the situation.
"Enough."
"Let's return to the real matter."
Jena nodded.
She spread a detailed map across the table.
"From this point onward..."
"You will follow my orders."
"At dawn tomorrow..."
"We strike here."
"Then here."
"And finally..."
"We advance like this."
---
Late that night, the disguised merchant fleet departed Sisterton.
Before sunrise...
They crossed the narrow strait and quietly entered the bay outside White Harbor.
White Harbor was the North's greatest port city, located at the mouth of the White Knife River and ruled by House Manderly.
Although it was the smallest of Westeros' five major cities, it remained the largest settlement north of the Neck.
Nearly all northern trade passed through its harbor.
Capturing such a city with only eight thousand men would normally be impossible.
But...
Occupation wasn't Jena's objective.
Chaos was.
As dawn approached, the harbor workers welcomed what appeared to be an unusually large merchant fleet from Braavos.
At first...
They merely wondered why so many ships had arrived.
Then...
The gangplanks dropped.
Instead of merchants...
Armed soldiers marched ashore.
Countless smaller boats were lowered from the remaining ships anchored offshore.
More soldiers flooded toward the docks.
The dockworkers, expecting employment, eagerly gathered beneath their foreman's orders.
They never realized the danger.
Before the foreman could even greet the newcomers...
An axe split his skull in half.
He died instantly.
The slaughter began.
Blood flowed through the docks...
Across the fish market...
And into White Harbor's broad stone streets.
Whitewashed buildings became stained crimson.
The familiar smell of fish and saltwater was quickly overwhelmed by the metallic scent of blood.
Even the sea breeze couldn't wash it away.
---
Fortunately for White Harbor...
The city reacted quickly.
Seal Rock—a fifty-foot-tall stone island guarding the harbor entrance—immediately sounded the alarm.
Ancient ruins built by the First Men had long ago been converted into military fortifications equipped with ballistae, heavy crossbows, and defensive artillery.
War horns echoed across the harbor.
Church bells rang continuously.
The city's defenders mobilized at remarkable speed.
White Harbor consisted of both an outer harbor and a heavily fortified inner harbor, separated by a massive breakwater.
A thirty-foot-high stone wall stretched nearly a mile along the breakwater, with defensive towers positioned at regular intervals.
Normally...
Such defenses would have been formidable.
But against a sudden surprise assault by eight thousand experienced mercenaries...
Even House Manderly struggled to respond quickly enough.
Before reinforcements could fully organize...
Sections of the harbor fell.
Then...
Parts of the city walls were abandoned.
Soon, fighting spread deep into the city itself.
---
Standing before the assembled commanders, Jena issued her final orders.
"Take White Harbor."
"Don't concern yourselves with casualties."
"Everything you loot during the assault belongs to you."
"My only demand..."
"Is that the city falls."
"Once we've secured it..."
"Send troops upriver along the White Knife."
"They will advance all the way..."
"To Winterfell."
________________________________________
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