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Game of Thrones Prince of the Rhoyne
Game of Thrones: Knights Life
CaveLeather
The defeat at Seagard rang the death knell for Balon's rebellion.
Balon could snatch local advantages with surprise raids, but he was no match for the full strength of the Iron Throne.
Inside Seagard's Eagle Hall, the stone wall behind the high table displayed both the eagle banners of House Mallister and the black bat banners of House Whent.
Lord Jason, Arthur Whent, and Ser Lucas gathered around the stone table to plan the next phase of the campaign.
Lord Jason Mallister was worth recruiting—one of the few real fighters left under Hoster Tully.
Mallister, Bracken, Blackwood.
Riverlanders said the Mallisters prized honor and courtesy and were generous with their gold.
Arthur knew better. The man had the same slippery Riverlands cunning as the rest.
Just like in the stories, when Edmure was captured at the Red Fork, the main Tully army had no Mallister troops anywhere near the fight.
Seagard and Riverrun had both sat idle. Seagard only moved once the Northern host appeared.
Add that sly, crude Lord Bracken, and only Lord Tytos Blackwood of Raventree Hall had ever been a true Tully loyalist.
Arthur's knights stood like a steel forest, carrying the grim weight of blood and fire from real war.
Ser Patrick stood among them, but he still looked like a boy playing at soldiers.
"After the count, we killed Rodrik Greyjoy, Maron Greyjoy, and Haras Harlaw, plus twenty-six longship captains," Ser Patrick reported, voice bright with excitement. "The rest fled back to their ships."
It was a crushing victory, no question.
"The Battle of Seagard broke Balon's momentum," Ser Lucas said. "Once we clear the Iron Fleet from the sea, we can finish the job on land."
"News of this win will reach King's Landing soon," Lord Jason added, tapping the table. "The Iron Throne will call every vassal to arms. Robert will gather lords and knights at Seagard and Lannisport and send the royal fleet, the Redwyne fleet, and the Oldtown fleet into action."
Robert loved war more than anything. Balon had poked the bear and was about to get mauled.
Seagard and Lannisport had no great fleets left. The Iron Throne's plan was simple: hit them by land and sea at once.
The royal fleet would sail around Dorne to link up with the Redwynes while two royal armies waited along the coast.
"Balon is finished," everyone agreed.
The Iron Fleet had only burned the Lannisport ships. The other great fleets were still intact.
Crow's Eye hadn't summoned sea monsters yet, and on paper the Iron Fleet was no match for the Redwyne and royal fleets combined.
"I need to ride to King's Landing first," Arthur said. "I want a new longsword forged, and the timing is perfect."
He could hardly wait to have Nightfall reforged into his own blade—Dark Messenger.
"If Lord Eddard marches south, we'll have time," Lord Jason said, still tapping the table. "Don't forget the trophies, Arthur."
Lord Jason meant the heads. The heads of ironborn captains made the best gifts for a king.
Nightfall was Arthur's alone.
"Good. Strengthen Seagard's defenses while I'm gone," Arthur told him.
"Already done," Lord Jason replied with quiet confidence. "My raven made it clear Seagard called for Riverlands aid and only Harrenhal answered."
Arthur and Lord Jason understood each other perfectly.
Everything they had done was lawful and right. No one could find fault with it.
King's Landing. The Red Keep.
Today the small council table finally held King Robert Baratheon.
Robert usually preferred wine, hunting, tourneys, and women over ruling. He hated paperwork and counting coppers.
But war stirred the wild blood in his veins. He loved the clash of steel and the taste of blood and fire.
The council sat in order:
King Robert.
Hand of the King and Master of Laws Jon Arryn.
Master of Coin Petyr Baelish—Jon Arryn's new financial favorite, already called Littlefinger.
Master of Whisperers Varys.
Master of Ships Stannis Baratheon.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Barristan Selmy.
Grand Maester Pycelle.
Robert reeked of wine and perfume. He slammed his fist on the table. "You all heard. That fool Balon actually rebelled. I'm going to cave his skull in."
Robert had never hated Balon before. During the rebellion, Balon's father Quellon had raided the Reach for the royalists after Rhaegar died. That counted for something.
But burning Lannisport had crossed the line.
"Have ravens gone out to every corner of the realm?" Robert asked.
"They have, Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle answered.
The Northmen had fought hard and gotten nothing for it. Typical.
"Good. I'll ride south with Eddard at my side."
"Excellent," Robert laughed, loud and fierce.
A few years of peace had left him restless. Tourneys were nothing compared to real war.
Varys smiled his usual oily smile. "Your Grace, I bring fresh tidings. Our brave Lord Jason of Seagard and young Arthur Whent, heir to Harrenhal, met the ironborn outside Seagard and slaughtered every last one who tried to storm the causeway. The king's loyal men won a great victory, my lords. The ironborn lost nearly a thousand men. Lord Arthur himself cut down Balon's heir Rodrik Greyjoy and Haras Harlaw. Lord Jason slew Balon's second son Maron Greyjoy."
"Praise the gods!" Pycelle cried. "A glorious triumph for King Robert!"
"That bat boy from Dragonstone?" Robert said, eyebrows rising. "I knew he had promise, but I didn't expect him to carve through ironborn like that."
Tournament wins didn't always translate to the battlefield. Robert had expected skill. He hadn't expected a killing frenzy.
"Yes, Your Grace," Varys said smoothly. "In a few days Lord Arthur will arrive in King's Landing bearing the kraken's head and the heads of their captains as gifts for you and the council."
"Perfect," Robert said, grinning wide. "Send that news with every raven in the realm. Let every lord know Balon is a pathetic clown and the lord of Seagard killed two of his sons before breakfast."
Only old Jon Arryn looked troubled. "House Whent marched without waiting for Lord Tully's orders."
"So what?" Robert waved it off. "Lord Jason called for help. The Riverlands can't be full of cowards. Even that old weasel Frey eventually showed up. The boy and Lord Jason did well. I intend to reward them both handsomely."
"Exactly," Stannis agreed. "In war, hesitation loses everything. If the Riverlands lords had waited for Riverrun, Seagard would be ashes."
Jon Arryn let it go. He knew Riverrun's weakness better than anyone—Hoster sick, Edmure useless. The stronger Harrenhal looked, the smaller House Tully appeared.
"I'm calling every warrior in the realm," Robert announced. "Lord Tywin will raise troops and wait at Lannisport. I'll march to Seagard with Eddard, the Riverlands, and the Vale. Eddard brings the North. Lord Royce brings the Vale."
Robert trusted the old alliance more than his own Stormlands forces. Renly was still too young, so the Stormlands would stay in reserve.
"Stannis," Robert said. "You and Paxter Redwyne will command the royal fleet. Clear the Iron Fleet from the sea so our armies can land."
"As you command," Stannis answered.
He and Robert had their differences, but this was for the Iron Throne. He would fight.
"Littlefinger," Robert added. "You handle every copper of this campaign. Make sure the men are paid and fed."
"As you command, Your Grace," Littlefinger replied, bowing low. The new man was already learning how to keep the king happy—with coin, wine, and women.
"While I'm gone with Eddard and Lord Royce, Jon Arryn remains in charge of King's Landing," Robert finished.
"What of the Riverlands command?" Jon Arryn asked quietly.
"If Hoster goes, he leads. But the real fighting will fall to the young wolf—Arthur Whent. I name him vanguard." Robert's word was final.
No one objected.
The news flew on raven wings: Great Victory at Seagard! and The Iron Throne Calls Its Banners!
From this day forward, the name Arthur Whent would echo across all Seven Kingdoms.