"The Iron Fleet is gone!"
"Victarion Greyjoy barely escaped with his life!"
Word from Fair Isle ripped through Seagard like wildfire.
Stannis and Paxter Redwyne's victory changed everything. With the seas under control, the army could finally land on the Iron Islands without fear.
Without a real fleet to ferry them, they couldn't have done it.
The men were restless after days of drinking, brawling, and wrestling in camp. They were ready to hit the krakens where they lived.
Inside the Eagle Hall, the main commanders of the campaign crowded around King Robert and Ned Stark.
Robert held overall command, with Ned at his right hand.
Below them came Lord Royce, Lord Karstark, and Ser Barristan Selmy.
Hoster Tully and his son ran the Seagard camp, with Ser Stevron Frey handling supplies.
The four vanguards—Arthur Whent, Lyn Corbray, Thoros of Myr, and Jorah Mormont—stood ready to lead the charge.
Most of the Riverlands lords were here too: Jason Mallister, Tytos Blackwood, Jonos Bracken. With Jon Arryn holding King's Landing, the wolf, fish, stag, and falcon were all in one place.
Since Seagard was the landing point, the Riverlands brought the biggest share of men.
"Perfect," Robert laughed, wine stains dark on his golden robe. "Balon's fleet is finished. We can land straight away."
He had been drinking hard since they reached Seagard.
"The fleet's gone, but Victarion slipped away," Ned said quietly.
"Not just Victarion. The Crow's Eye got clear too," Robert answered. "Stannis told me. Only the flagship and a handful of longships escaped. Euron never took orders from his brother anyway."
Euron ran, Arthur thought. Just like I figured.
Victarion had fought his way out with blood and steel, leaving the rest of the Iron Fleet to die.
Euron had never even sailed for Fair Isle.
Arthur had suspected as much. Euron had real power—some kind of skinchanging gift—but magic was still weak in the world. It held him back.
Even so, Euron was too clever to throw his life away on Balon's losing cause. He was happy to watch his brother fail.
"My lords, the sea belongs to us now," Robert said, voice rising. "Time to burn the kraken's nest. Arthur Whent, Lyn Corbray, Thoros, Jorah—you four are the spearpoint."
"You can count on us, Your Grace," the vanguards answered together.
They weren't even the real tip of the spear. Robert was still holding back, warming up for the fight.
Robert was king, but he had always led from the front. In the rebellion he charged first and dueled in the thick of it. He wasn't the type to sit back and direct from the rear like Tywin or Stannis.
This campaign against the Iron Islands was going to be one-sided. The great houses had united for once, and they were bringing everything they had.
Balon had earned every bit of it.
"Are the catapults ready?" Ned asked.
"Ready to sail," Lord Jason Mallister said. "Ser Barristan gets two. The King's host takes three to crack Pyke open."
"Good," Robert said, clenching a fist. "Feed the men tonight. Tomorrow we eat in Pyke."
The lords and knights answered with a roar.
This wasn't another bloody civil war like the Dance or the Blackfyre rebellions. This was a clean, professional strike. The Iron Throne moved with confidence. The men were eager, not exhausted.
The Stormlands mostly stayed home. The Riverlands, Crownlands, and North brought knights, cavalry, and elite house troops. No need to drag every farmer and shopkeeper along like they would in the War of the Five Kings.
While they waited in Seagard, Robert had drilled the army hard. The soldiers were already solid, and the limited scope of the war made training easy.
The Iron Islands weren't that big. Besides the sea, there wasn't much worth taking. The lords didn't need to empty their lands the way they would later.
Besides the professionals, plenty of hedge knights, freeriders, and landless adventurers had joined up on their own. They smelled gold and glory and wanted their share.
Dawn broke over Seagard's docks.
Under the eyes of lords and landed knights, the soldiers formed into four battle groups and waited for the fleet.
Ser Barristan would take the Crownlands men to Old Wyk.
The Riverlands, Vale, and Northern hosts fell under Robert and Ned. Their targets were Harlaw and Pyke.
Under the golden banner with the black bat, Arthur sat his horse, bat-wing helm tucked under one arm.
Big Rolly held the Whent banner high.
Behind Arthur stood his six sworn knights—Ser Lucas Dayne, Wylis Wode, young Lucas Roote, Rolly, Clarence Crabb, and Tristimont—plus three hundred black-armored Whent riders in yellow surcoats.
Freeriders and hedge knights who couldn't get close to the King or Ned had attached themselves to Arthur instead. He was rich, he was the kraken specialist, and he paid well.
Arthur had money now, and he was strict about who he kept long-term.
"Those Whent Black Knights look dangerous," Lord Tytos Blackwood muttered.
"So many good men," Lyn Corbray said, envy plain in his voice.
Arthur could field seven or eight first-rate knights at once. Real talent didn't grow on trees. It took gold and hard training.
When Arthur led that pack of killers in a charge, they cut through lines like a storm.
House cavalry like that was the true strength of any lord. Add a fearless leader at the front and the whole unit fought harder.
Ordinary houses couldn't match it. Their real power was in these elite troops. The peasant levies were just meat for the grinder.
"Ships incoming!"
Out on the water, Redwyne warships with grape-cluster banners grew larger by the minute.
Lord Paxter Redwyne had brought his fleet to ferry the army for the assault.
The Iron Throne's navy was split three ways now: Stannis hitting Great Wyk, Baelor Hightower sailing to Lannisport to pick up the Lannisters for Orkmont, and Paxter handling Seagard.
"Board the ships!"
"Board the ships!"
Paxter came ashore to greet the King. Robert waved a big hand, and the army began loading.
Redwyne sailors guided the men onto the warships. The Redwynes lived on the sea. Their cavalry might not be famous, but their sailors were the best in the realm—generations of old sea dogs.
Arthur watched his own knights carefully. Open-sea sailing was brutal compared to river travel. Seasickness hit hard.
The crossing wasn't long, though. Most men stayed on their feet even if they felt like death.
The Northerners were the same—some had probably never been on a real warship before.
Stannis's crews, who had sailed all the way from Dragonstone, were different. Those men were forged in salt and iron.
"You need real experience for this," Arthur said, watching the Redwyne sailors move with easy confidence.
Arthur, Lyn Corbray, and the others crammed onto one warship. First target: Harlaw Island.
Lord Rodrik the Reader had already lost two sons, two nephews, and a brother-in-law to Balon's rebellion. He was the unluckiest man on the Iron Islands.
Robert's army wasn't going to spare him.
Harlaw was the closest island to Seagard and the richest. Robert wanted conquest by fire and blood. The Lord of Harlaw could kneel afterward if he wanted to live.