Chapitre 268: 21
I wake up sweating, heart racing as the image of small ash strained hands grasping at my body slowly fade from my sight. Gasping I need a moment to calm myself and recognize the place I find myself in. The walls of my wooden cabin creak as the ship makes for Harlaw, the soft swaying of the ground beneath me causing my stomach to rebel yet again. A convenient bucket standing nearby is filled for the hundredth time or at least it felt that way to me. Likely I had only hurled a dozen times since we set out the day before but such was the way of those suffering – every pain seemed that much greater than it was if looked on with a little more objectivity.
We had spent nearly a week searching through Blacktyde castle and its contents, finding everyone from the fiercest guard down to the smallest Raven chick dead from fire and smoke. Some had simply gone to sleep and never woken up, others had railed to the last against their doom and died in the struggle. Neither made a difference in the end, the castle having been turned into a tomb by our actions. I had yet to find a restful bit of sleep since ordering the town set aflame fully knowing what it would lead to. Before the other northerners I was unable to show this perceived 'weakness' but what little remained of my more modern mindset really really needed a therapist. Or the local equivalent to speak to, which would be my wife.
Concentrating on breathing for a moment I forced the lingering images away, centring myself at the best of my ability. While the act itself had been ruthless and right up there with Tywin's Castamere it had also led to more than a few positive developments, at least if seen from a certain perspective. My reputation had all but exploded in size and by the time the news of what had been done spread I expected only the most stupid lords in Westeros to forgo at least speaking with me before battle. They of course might still decline surrendering in the end but they would parley beforehand, of this I was sure.
The men marching with me also looked at me a little differently after witnessing the results of my plan, some calling me 'Blackhand' almost reverently and with the same tone some might speak about a vicious bear content to live peacefully in its cave. Leave it alone or tread carefully around it and you would leave again without a hair out of place. Poke it too many times and you would get your face ripped off a moment later for your stupidity. There was even a song making the rounds describing it.
The first parley, they made him flee
Lord Ryther sighed and frowned
He sacked the town with thralls free
Still they shot the next parley down
Umber cursed and Mormont agreed
Blackwood lamented the men he lost
But Ryther swore that 'til red he bleed
Heavy would be the foolish Lord's cost
For honour's sake they sent another
Hoping the lackwit lord would yield
Yet they knew 'twas a needless bother
As he returned with arrows on his shield
That night Lord Ryther hatched a plan
The northmen all heard it and paled
Next morn they sent forth one last man
Hoping the fool's sense would prevail
It was for naught, so the smallfolk wept
They saw flames burn down the first house
In silence they ate and in silence they slept
As it grew into an inferno none could douse
They rose next morn amidst salt and smoke
And swore to not earn the Northman's scorn
For they knew, as the ash grayed their cloak
Blacktyde was dead, and Blackhand reborn.
-by NicholasFiend (SB)
Some of the ironborn smallfolk had also returned to the settlement, hoping to salvage some of their possessions after the battle and our departure. The desolation they had found, gray and black soot covering what little remained of their former home, had earned me yet another name. The dismayed ironborn civilians had taken to whispering about the 'Ashbringer' whenever my name or that of Blacktyde was mentioned, likely cementing my notoriety for years to come.
I only got word of this as we boarded the ships some days later, the vessels of my fleet having returned after ferrying most of the allied troops to Harlaw. Thankfully they brought along enough allied vessels so that I could transport all those that had fought at our side in addition to their families, solving another problem I had been hard pressed to face on my own. The fighting men would head for Harlaw as well while the non combatants headed for Blackport. I expected that I would have to face the consequences of yet another immigration wave – this one self inflicted – once I returned home.
The news brought along by Hoster taken together with what I discovered in Lord Blacktyde's solar finally allowed me a good picture of what had been going on since we had set out from Blackport. And what a picture it was. I had been out of contact for a while and much had changed in the meantime.
Euron and the Iron Fleet had assaulted Oldtown for reasons not yet known. Maybe they had been drunk on their success or searched for something in particular? Whatever had been behind the attack, it mattered little. House Hightower had managed to beat off the attack even if damage was reported to be substantial with much of the town and large parts of the citadel itself either damaged or outright destroyed. The reavers retreated as the losses became untenable but even so they left a lot of their best fighters dead or captured on dry land where they desperately needed them on the sea as the royal fleet sailed closer with each day. The attack had also the additional effect of the Reach setting aside their civil war – for the moment – in their rage, going after the Ironborn nearly frothing at the mouth, united by the external threat.
The defeat at Oldtown shattered the cohesion of the reavers, Victorian Greyjoy taking over command of the Iron Fleet after Euron disappeared to parts unknown with his flagship `Silence´ and half a dozen additional vessels. The other Greyjoy had roughly a hundred greater longships and twice that number in smaller ones to his name as he retreated north only to divert east a little after a few hundred miles, assaulting the shield islands and taking them in a surprise assault.
This decision I could actually somewhat understand. The islands were not far out of the way, had been a great point of contention for centuries and could not boast enough ships to have any hope of driving off the reavers. Most importantly, the Ironborn desperately needed a win after the latest disaster. While a great success for the Ironborn it also allowed the royal fleet, now not only joined by the Targaryen fleet but also the full might of House Redwyne to catch up.
Stannis Baratheon again proved himself to be an able admiral and shattered the Iron Fleet once and for all, only half a dozen vessels under the command of Aeron Greyjoy escaping in the direction of the Iron Islands after a day long battle. I half expected this to be the moment where the Targaryens amongst the fleet turned against the rest and kicked off the next round of the rebellion but nothing happened. They served without complaint and even took grievous losses for the new dynasty, their vessels being reported to have fought at the very front of the battle. I simply could not see their game and that made me more nervous than an outright betrayal might have. For now I of course had little choice than to let the matter rest as I could not affect it anyway, so that was what I did.
Victorian had been captured as his flagship was boarded, a lot of other surviving ironborn nobles joining him in captivity. Amongst the nobles caught only a few names had really stood out to me, Lords Blacktyde and Harlaw being the most prominent after the Greyjoy admiral. It seems that the castle I had just taken would – for now – have a rightful owner returning at some point. For me it would likely have been easier if he had been killed as well, the death of his whole family likely making him my house's enemy for generations to come.
Not that it had needed the additional motivation as I had found out reading through the papers shoved in every cranny of the very much chaotic solar. Whoever had managed the room in the lord's absence seemed to react allergic to any form of order. As it turned out house Blacktyde had been one of the main raiders stealing wood from the North, the maester I had caught having reported to them for reasons or personal profit. Interpreting the found documents it looked to me that the maester had stopped in Blacktyde on the way to my holdings because his transport had taken some damage in a small storm and needed repairs before continuing. It had been an alliance of opportunity, the agreement to exchange money against information being reached as Lord Blacktyde stumbled across the maester in a local tavern.
If that had been the only contact the man had reported to that would have been that, but I knew that the spy had at least a few more contacts he also supplied with information. Sadly I had no hint as to their identity beyond the directions the raven with the falsified messages had taken, leaving me with… nothing, really. I still would continue to look for the missing links of the network but I did not think that I would see results for a long time, if ever. At some point I might get a lucky break though, finally getting me some names to all the attacks I had suffered in the past. I would simply have to wait and see.
With the Iron Fleet being either destroyed or scattered Balon had withdrawn nearly completely to his islands and bunkered down at the best of his ability. According to many of the letters this would be too little too late. Other lords had informed the Blacktydes of the Faith landing on their shores, bringing fire and death with them. Always led by a sparrow of some sort, they were either killed to the last as soon as a proper warrior force could be formed or fled as soon as they ran into real opposition. But even if driven off the left behind thousands of dead peasants and burned and pillaged villages by the dozen.
I did not know if King Robert had unleashed the fanatics on the Ironborn to keep them busy on their own ground and unable to muster a coherent defense against the allied host, that would also arrive at some point, or if the Faith was acting on its own and likely ignoring whatever the King had told them to do. While an effective tactic I could not see the Baratheon King ordering something like it. Either way the effects were the same with a lot of lords turtling up while their lands burned. I could already see how the Faith might spin this into a great success and draw even more power from it, making them an even greater pest.
Again I felt lucky to live north of Moat Cailin, knowing that while I might have to fight the fanatics again at some point for now they were someone else's problem. Of the north, there was nothing new to be found in the information stored within the solar. It somehow seemed like the largest realm of the seven kingdoms had simply vanished from the radar as soon as the war kicked off in earnest. The only mention I found was House Farwynd warning the Blacktydes of my presence and them likely being the next target. Obviously the ironborn had not used this information as well as they should have.
With the reavers fleet being out of the way Robert had also quickly coordinated with the high lords and would meet them at Harlaw, where the full allied army would gather before taking the seat of house Harlaw and moving onto the Pyke afterwards. I actually did not expect the Reader to offer much resistance. Having more than 25,000 men sitting on his front doors – which would have outnumbered the complete ironborn military on a good day even before their last military disaster – would have him surrendering in a hurry. Contrary to Balon the man was not said to be stupid or nursing a death wish.
Finally leaving my room I stumble my way on deck, soon joining Hoster at the helm. He glances at me and I can see some amusement flickering over his face but am nonetheless grateful that he does nothing more to point out my deplorable state. Tytos on the other hand has no such qualms.
"You look like shit."
I glare sullenly before another wave causes me to turn green again for a moment, some deep breaths barely managing to control my stomach. "Thank you, my friend, for your honesty."
He smiles wryly at my counter before pointing forwards. "Harlaw is in sight, your troubles should soon be over."
Following his finger I see indeed land on the horizon, a heartfelt sigh of relief escaping me. "Oh thank all the old gods and the new. Finally."
Hoster only barely suppresses everything beyond a deeply amused twitch of his beard and keeps silent while Tytos snickers. "I have never seen a person getting as sick as you do on the waves."
"It's a gift.", I reply drily.
"Some gifts are not to be envied then.", he states before nodding to the lands ahead. "A courier boat met us a few hours past. Harlaw has already surrendered. The Reader only mustered a token resistance before flopping on his back and showing his throat. Cannot fault the man, truth to be told. We will meet the king and the host under the walls of Harlaw and likely set sail again before too long."
"Great.", I mutter. "This means politics. Just great."
"Ah, cheer up", teases Tytos and slaps my back lightly. "We will get a feast out of it at the very least. I hear the King likes to travel in style and we will be sure to join the inevitable feast at some point."
"That does indeed cheer me up.", I state and really it did. I had been living off dour rations and whatever could be foraged for months, dearly missing something – anything – more tasty. A feast would be just what the doctor ordered. "Even if the company will likely be lacking."
"The fanatics will be present as well, yes.", grouses the Blackwood lord, a dark look flickering across his expression. "They have done too much – ordered or not – to be anywhere else. Like a fungus they are strangling the life out of every noble they can get their claws on. This war will see them all the harder to dislodge again."
"At least we will finally see who this High Sparrow is in person. If he has any reason hidden within his fanaticism, then he will be there as well to build up his position."
"We have a name.", states Tytos, face working. I turned to him in surprise. "We have?"
He nods, some disbelief showing through his expression. "Aye, we do. The crew of the courier had some information beyond the letter delivered. The High Sparrow is a former lord of the vale called Petyr Balish. Found the Seven in a near death experience shortly before the rebellion it is said, where the seven gods spoke to him or something like that. He is said to be very young but fiendishly charismatic, having risen through the ranks of the clergy like a thief climbing a ladder. Too fast to be really believed. Then he threw it all away and started the Faith Militant together with his most fanatic followers, the Sparrows."
"Petyr Balish...", I repeated in a disbelieving whisper, feeling completely thrown by the development. I hadn't seen this coming even though the signs had been there, now that I thought back on it. It would neatly explain why the Faith Militant had the strongest position within the Riverlands, where Balish had a home field advantage, and also how the fanatics kept running rings around the current king. Robert might be a good wartime leader but in everything else Littlefinger would be able to outmaneuver him without even trying.
Now the question forced itself upon me just why I would be targeted in particular. I had never met the man and did not think that my actions had brought me in conflict with him or his goals. Which of course did not mean that I did not impact something unknowingly, earning his ire. As I saw it he would have no motivation to see to my own demise even though he has the means and the opportunity to get the bought acolyte and even the 'accident prone' maester on his pay list. Maester Luthor did stop in the Riverlands on his trip to my holdings and Wyndals apprentice did put a bird on the letters send to his master. In addition each of the recipients would be easily within the sphere of influence I expected the High Sparrow to have.
Maybe I was just the means to an end? Creating chaos where there was none or just too little of it for his liking? Chaos was a ladder had been his leading credo in the books after all. The puzzle came together in my mind now that I had another cornerstone – the man's name – in addition to the other facts I had found in the past. Still, it seemed too easy to me and looked shaky enough to come apart at the smallest counter agrument. While everything seemed to point in this direction it might actually be a false positive. Just because I couldn't see a better explanation did not mean that there was none.
"Unbelievable, isn't it?", agrees Tytos, having completely misinterpreted my reaction. "So much death and destruction on the whims of a complete unknown."
I hum noncommittally, still deep in thought. My mind kept conjuring one horror scenario after another, the influence Balish had currently to his name causing me to actually shudder. How the heck had he ended up with the Faith instead of a whoremonger? He had been a very insidious character in the books and a very very cunning one. I considered him to be the worst sort of enemy – a smart one.
"It will be good to get the measure of the man.", I finally speak up again, still deeply shaken. Neither of the men currently keeping me company noticed this, my still slightly greenish pallor easily masking the discomfort I was feeling at the information. I calmed myself with the reminder that I might actually be working with faulty information, considering that I was missing a lot of background and had actually never met Littlefinger in this life. It was dangerous to just base my suspicions on knowledge that might or might not be true this time around.
Taking a deep breath I concentrate on the land that is steadily moving closer. "Anything else I should know about?"
"One more thing, yes.", grunts Hoster. "The Reach has finally gotten off its arse and is sending 20,000 men directly to Pyke. Half Tyrell, half Florent it seems."
I feel my palm meet my face before I consciously notice the motion, a groan escaping me as Tytos chuckles. "Of all the stupid things…"
"They either never got the summon to Harlaw or are ignoring it outright", states Lord Blackwood helpfully, my sullen glare only widening the smile on his face.
"They are ignoring it.", I state with confidence. "They are trying to show up each other and will assault Pyke as soon as they land and long before we will arrive to reinforce them. The Florents and Tyrells both want to be the one – and only one – to take Pyke and end the rebellion, giving them a leg up in their own civil war. Balon will be able to kill them piecemeal as they land on his shores."
"Politics do not care for practical concerns.", agrees Tytos easily. "At least they will beat the Greyjoys bloody in their defeat, making it easier for us."
"That is something at least.", I agree, the thought of the Reachmen actually winning never making it past my mental fact check. Both parties would sabotage the other one long before that had a chance of happening, leaving the remainder to be mopped up by the Greyjoys at their pleasure. In addition I expected the quality of the Reach troops to be poor, the speed of their gathering speaking for close at hand levies instead of proper troops.
I pause, a thought striking me. "Who is leading them?"
"Alester Florent and Mace Tyrell respectively."
"Where is Lord Tarly?", I inquired quickly, remembering the name of the most accomplished military leader of the Reach from my past life even though I really had no reason to ask after him in particular. Tytos, not knowing this, answers easily.
"Amongst the Florent host I suspect. He married Aleasters eldest daughter after all."
"Ah", I sigh and massage my head. "I had not thought about that. Considering what rumors I heard of Mace´s… competence… I suspect that the Florents will make the race."
"I would bet you a dragon that the Tyrells do. While Mace might be as useless as people say, his mother is not."
"I'll take that bet.", I mutter and nod to my friend. "The Queen of Thorns is far away from the action. She will not be able to migrate anything until long after it has happened."
We look at each other before chuckling both, the surreality of our bet leading to some amusement. Winning or losing really hurt neither one of us with such a relatively tiny wager but it was a nice little change in our usual discussions, making it somehow more real while at the same time pushing the realities behind it far away from our minds. The explanation really sounded bad even in my own mind but I had no better way of describing my feelings so I left it at that.
Comfortable silence soon embraces us as we watch the calm ocean move by, my ships driven forward by a favorable wind. We would soon be meeting the king and the main host as well as some other persons I was deeply curious about, making the slow speed of my ships compared to other modes of transportations I knew about a pain in the arse. Robert and Stannis Baratheon, Jamie Lannister, the Blackfish, Jon Royce and, of course, Petyr Balish. All big names in the books with a lot of weight behind them and I was likely missing some I had not yet thought about. For the most part I had flown under the radar until now but in a few days that period would be past, my presence alone drawing eyes to my accomplishments.
What would happen afterwards we would just have to wait and see.
Ten Towers comes into sight three days later, pickets of the royal fleet and of assorted houses having been encountered already a day earlier. We faced no trouble making our way through, flying my banner in addition to the Stark wolf as we were. The local harbor was more than a little full of ships so we made landfall two miles down the coast, beaching those of our ships able to do it while the rest anchored close to the coast and ferried their people over by boat. Leaving the men to make camp at the place of our landfall, I and the other nobles with me made our way to the town with a sizeable escort.
While the whole area was in the crown's stranglehold and I did not expect an attack I nonetheless felt it prudent to be prepared. The Ironborn were not the only danger around, after all. Soon we are moving through row after row of tents, banners from all over the seven kingdoms – except Dorne and the Reach – making the gathering even more colorful than I expected it to be. A frown comes to my face as I spot just how many houses are flying the seven pointed star in addition to their own banner, just like I had added the Stark sigil to my own to show my allegiance.
"This bodes ill.", mutters Mors Umber as he strides at my side, sharp eyes taking in the scene and obviously having spotted the same signs I had. From the corner of my eyes I spot the other lords either nodding or looking around warily.
I agree easily. "Aye, it does. But did we expect anything else? It likely won't be a problem for the duration of the war. Afterwards though…"
Trailing off as I notice the camp of the faith militant my frown turns into a scowl. At my estimate at least 5,000 men in robes and some thin leather armor were moving around in the area I took to be the Faith's, making them more numerous than I cared to think about. They seemed to be mostly wielding clubs, hammers and maces of some sort with wooden shields bearing their star rounding up the picture. Many had the star cut into their foreheads and those few that dared to come close enough to us to glare at my group had a look about them that just screamed fanatic. Their expression just wasn't… all there. Many a gaze seemed feverish without the person it belonged to actually being physically ill. While as healthy as I could reasonably expect them to be in body, they looked just as sick to me in all matters mental. Not that they would see it the same way, of course.
"A dangerous thing, religion.", I mutter as we move past, shaking my head slightly as one of the more gone fanatics spits at our feet a little ahead of our group but does nothing else. We simply ignore him, unwilling to start anything this close to our goal.
"Any belief can be dangerous", agrees Tytos easily enough. "Doesn't have to be religion, though. A man believing in a goal or an idea strongly enough will do anything he can to see it succeed, moving through death and misery without complaint."
"True enough", I agree and continue to take in what I can of the army gathered around the gates of Ten Towers. In the center of the Faith Militant area I spot a high tent surrounded by well armed men in full plate bearing seven coloured capes. This would be the newly founded Order of the Rainbow, I muse, and muster them from afar as we continue on to the town's gates. From what little we had been able to gather the order had been founded by the High Sparrow shortly after his ascension and was mostly made out of former hedge knights and lesser noble sons. They were led by seven knights, who had each taken a color of their own to honor a specific deity in particular while not leaving out the greater whole. They were the Rainbow Knights, who doubled as the personal guard detail of the high sparrow. I could not help but be deeply amused by the name and the fact that Littlefinger of all people had come up with the idea long before the Renly Baratheon I read about could do the same.
Other areas of the camp we move past fly the flags of the Stormlands, Crownlands, Westerlands, Vale and the Riverlands. The northern part of the encampment is a little off to the side and we would be heading for it soon enough but first we had to greet the king, everything else likely to be taken as a slight. Not by the king himself if my estimate was right but by those around them seeking any chink in northern armour to drive the kingdom further apart.
We are easily admitted through the gatehouse even though the Faith Militant members present amongst the guard detail looked like they really wanted to start trouble. Thankfully they were held in check by the other men at arms present, mostly due them outnumbering the Faiths contribution to the guard by a factor of four. It seemed that Robert or someone else had at least some sense and found a good way to keep escalations to the minimum for now.
Walking through the small town surrounding the castle of Ten Towers we see no signs of battle, any fighting obviously not having reached this far. The smallfolk I spotted looked skittish to the extreme but not in direct fear of their lives, which was something. The royal host had a strong presence within the walls even though most of the fighters were located in the camp city outside the fortification. Every now and then I spot sullen looking – and unarmed – Ironborn wearing the livery of house Harlaw. Nearly all of them were very young, the males in their prime likely having been part of the mostly destroyed Iron Fleet.
Most of our escort had peeled off at the gates, heading for the northern encampment, reducing our party to a paltry two dozen as we finally reached the gates to Lord Harlaw's castle. One look at our sigils and we are admitted into the fortification, Lord Eddard Stark waiting for us in the inner courtyard.
"My Lord", I greet the Lord Paramount, the lords accompanying me doing likewise.
"Well met, my Lords", comes the reply easily, a small smile on his face that looked strained due stress more than anything we might have done. "Be welcome in Ten Towers. Rooms have been prepared for you and baths drawn. Rid yourself of the grime a campaign always accumulates and be ready to partake in the feast later this evening. We have much to speak about and will do with good food and a well aged ale in our hands."
The men around me disappear with assigned servants, much more cheerful than a few minutes before. I do so as well but I still feel a bang of worry. While Lord Stark had looked well enough I could not feel but feel that something was amiss. Entering a room prepared for me I sink into a hot bathtub only minutes later, a sigh of content escaping me. Gods, that felt great.
Be it as it may, I would deal with it as it came along.
OOC: I will be taking a short break over easter, so next chapter might be delayed a bit.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone