Capítulo 266: 19
288 AC – Part II
The noble house of Farwynd and their retainers never left the castle again as long as we were present and we departed the very next day in the direction of the harbor, taking all of the refugees with us. A messenger had been sent ahead to our waiting ships, telling them to make for the harbor as well. The present docking facilities would hopefully make boarding and loading the ships much easier, not to mention that it was much closer to our current position than the stretch of beach we had made landfall on in the first place.
The settlement before the harbor turned out to be a large village but still far from a town. It had no fortification to speak of beyond, a waist high wall of gathered stones that acted more as a fence for some pigs than as a deterrent for any potential attacker. To the sea side there were defensive installations on high cliffs, which were surrounding the harbor on both sides. All but unassailable from the ocean but ridiculously weak from land as the wall protecting the fortifications from this direction were maybe half again as high as the one protecting the town. The riders I had sent had likely laughed themselves silly before accepting a surrender.
I could easily see why the population had taken to waving the white flag at once instead of trying to fight off my men. Considering the state of the castle defenses there had to be less than fifty fighters in the settlement, far too few to make up for the lack in fortifications. Surrendering without a fight also allowed me to let those few caught with a weapon go with only the oath not to attack the North again, no need for any maiming or killing. I far preferred this outcome to a bloody slog from house to house, which this might have easily turned to with better preparations or numbers on the side of the Ironborn.
Moving into town I had actually to protect the reaver smallfolk, some of the rescued thralls not being able to resist taking vengeance against their captors. I had the offenders flogged at once and hanged the three I could prove to have raped some of the prettier locals. Some understanding my mind could bring up for their want of revenge but rape was where I drew the line of mercy. Whoever did this would be done for wherever I held some power. In this case this meant a very public execution and a shouted explanation that while we might be at war the king's law would nonetheless be followed and that yes, even the victorious men following me would be held to it.
It put a great damper on the mood of the men following me and the other nobles present but it had to be done. Even if I had condoned the action in the first place – which I very much did not – then it would have been setting a bad precedent. Being known for looting and raping my way across the landscape would only stiffen resistance in the long and maybe even short run, causing defenders to resist to the last again as they protected their loved ones from my 'vile' practises. No, better a grumpy but obedient army than all but forcing those drawn into the conflict on the opposite side to fight harder than they absolutely needed to.
Moving to the docks I am positively surprised to see two large and four small cogs in harbor flying my flag, none of the ships known to me. This of course meant that my bounty had just jumped up a lot and I cannot help but smirk as my gamble paid off. With this I had also solved the problem of not being able to transport the freed thralls before it actually became one. As soon as I had been told that roughly one and a half thousand smallfolk hoped to be evacuated I had not found any more rest, knowing that not taking them along would spell disaster in multiple ways. The refugees would be desperate with no way back, having turned on their overlords, just as the local smallfolk would be vicious. Civil war would be nothing against the bloody battle royal I could predict in such a situation, which made me all the more grateful that it would not happen in the first place.
Of course it did not surprise me that of the six ships only two of the small ones had belonged to house Farwynd for any length of time, the others having been captured over the course of the last two years by pirating the Sunset Sea much more thoroughly than the information I had at hand had suggested. Of the remaining vessels two more small ones had been calling the Westerlands their home, while the bigger ones had hailed from the reach. I felt absolutely no guilt at claiming them in my name, not even for a second entertaining the thought of giving them back to their initial owners. While both paramouncys might be allies in this war – and in the Reachs case I considered this to be still a coin toss – they were also not bound to the north beyond the cracked construct the Seven Kingdoms had turned out to be by now.
It also greatly helped that none of the captains had survived the loss of their vessels, every man of higher rank having been thrown overboard in some fashion to meet the drowned god if the reports I got from some of the saved sailors turned thralls were to be believed. Looting some of the local warehouses for food we stuffed every available space on the ships with people and sent them north under the protection of the captured longships. Wyndal would be less than happily surprised by having more mouth to feed, but there was little I could do to warn him. The only ravens on the island belonged to house Farwynd and I suspected they would be less than inclined to help out after the losses they had recently taken. As ravens had also not been part of the surrender agreement I was also not willing to go back and force yet another concession out of them. Wyndal and the others at home would just have to make do.
The two ships now belonging to house Mormont would join the trips north and head for Bear Island at once, for the first time in centuries actually promising the chance to protect their coasts against raiders under their own strength. Being a proud northern house this likely meant more to Jeor and Jorah than I could really understand. After some thought I had actually offered House Mormont the two captured longships I had claimed in return for their open acknowledgement of Snowfort as well as the promise of increased – or in Snowfort's case – beginning trade with house Ryther.
My reasoning for this was manifold but mostly came down to two things. Longships had proven to be less than useful in ship to ship battles as soon as a 'higher caliber gun' in the form of galleys were involved, leaving them not up to the task of being a true deterrent for any determined attack. They were great for raiding and scouting, sure, but beyond that they failed to live up to their reputation. I already had a lot of longships and actually considered the captured cogs to be the far greater price.
Giving the relatively poor Mormonts part of my bounty also lessened any ill will my noble companions might have had considering the fact that I had suddenly found myself with many times their loot in monetary value alone. Not even counting the effects that more trade vessels would have for my further economic development. It also bound them closer to me, cementing our alliance already kicked off due the fostering of my son on Bear Island. Having another house with a stake in protecting the western coast also helped, of course. Their agreement to trade with Snowfort also had a lot of long term implications and hopefully would allow me to raise awareness of the white walkers easier once the time came. Of course I was still holding out some tiny hope that the Thenn or other free folk would get lucky and off the Night King with the supplied Dragonglass weapons before it could get that far but it was just that – the tiny glimmer of hope of a man knowing that this would be too lucky and too easy by far.
The four ships of the newly arisen Mormont Fleet sailed North the very next day under the command of Jorah Mormont, escorting the rescued thralls and their families to Blackport. Afterwards the warships would continue to Bear Island, reinforcing the skeleton crews and take up patrolling the northern waters alongside the few ships I had left behind. Jorah had been chosen to take command – despite his protests – as only a few men of house Mormont would remain behind and a fleet of such size needed a noble commander. I was well aware that this would very likely butterfly away one of the man's claims to fame, being one of the first past the walls of Pyke, but I could hardly care less. Canon was shot to shit by now anyway and I could not be bothered trying to manipulate it back on track. That ship had well and truly sailed, literally in this case.
While the departures and the crews needed for it reduced the forces available to me by three hundred, it also lessened the strain on supplies as well as brought the ships of my fleet a lot closer to optimal crewing. I had been overloading every last ship far more than I should have and this actually helped me more than it harmed me. Boarding our ships we soon left behind Lonely Light as well, our first conquest having gone much smoother than I ever could have anticipated.
We sailed southeast heading for Blacktyde, the next stop of a war that was likely to yet last for months if not years. It all depended on the Iron Fleet and if it remained in play longer than it had in canon I mused as I looked up to the clear sky above, stars twinkling. I felt ill at ease not knowing what happened in the greater theater of the war, the means of communication being what they were. All that was left to me was to follow the commands of Lord Stark and hope that everybody else was also doing their part.
The voyage to Blacktyde passed without incident, with us spotting nothing more than the occasional fishing boat, the large boats or small ships trying their best to make themselves as unseen as possible. I had little doubt that news of our passage would soon spread, but I was unwilling to delay to sink every two bit vessel that got a glimpse at the northern fleet. Landfall was made in a shallow bay to the very west of the large island and this time the fleet would not wait for us. Instead I commanded them to move straight north until they hit land and then eastwards along the coast until they either hit Seaguard or found the allied fleet and the gathered armies.
Lord Glover would be in nominal command of the fleet – Hoster would do the work, of course – while I and the other four lords played merry hell on the ironborn island. This of course would leave us up shits creek if we found challenges we could not overcome with our current numbers, but I was unwilling to risk the fleet waiting around lightly defended in waters absolutely infested by reavers. Not to speak of the fact that the Iron Fleet was still in play as well and had to be somewhere.
We did not have the numbers to defend an anchored fleet on the Ironborns hometurf, so I chose to win this particular battle by not participating yet again. I really had to be careful by now that my logical thinking – in my mind – would not be considered craven by the unwashed masses. This would after all make the second time I send my fleet away instead of facing a clear danger head on. Lonely Light had been far enough away that it could be risked but Blacktyde was the Ironborn heartland, so we'd better be on the careful side.
I snort, shaking myself out of my recollections as the army marches past me in the direction of Blacktyde castle. Tytos Blackwood, who was watching the men from my side, turns to me with a raised eyebrow. Smiling wryly I elaborate. "I just thought that leaving us without ships on this island was actually the careful way to go about things."
The man chuckles slightly as well, pointing backwards to where the fleet had departed a day ago. "At least you didn't burn the ships as some are prone to."
"I am not Brandon the Burner", I mutter and shake my head in slightly but well concealed disdain. "What a waste that was… imagine where the North would be had there been an established fleet from the start."
"Not where it is now for sure", he replies easily before pausing. "But would that have been such a good thing? As far as I can see the North currently stands stronger than it has ever been."
I shrug. "Who knows. Maybe the North would never have been as weak – relatively speaking – as it has been in the last few centuries with a fleet. Or we would have been drawn into even more conflicts and suffered for it. In the end I can imagine but not know, the paths of fate are up to the gods in the end."
"Aye", he mutters and stares east forlornly. "They give and they take but rarely do us mortals understand their ways or reasons."
Keeping my silence I squeeze his shoulder slightly in a supportive way before returning my attention to the marching men. Tytos and I had become somewhat friendly with each other over the last weeks and by now I knew that the man was prone to dark moods as he dwelled upon his past and the forced departure from his ancestral seat in the Riverlands. While he was grateful indeed to have found a place in the North even after millennia of absence he nonetheless fought a hard battle against depression – or at least I took it for such – each time something reminded him of his lost home. Memories really could be the greatest enemy of men. I tried to help what little I could, mostly by distracting the man and keeping him occupied. Thankfully that was not all that hard on a campaign in hostile lands.
We had a little more than a thousand warriors, mostly experienced veterans, with us and I felt reasonably sure that we could take most challenges the Ironborn would be able to throw at us in the time they had until the rest of the kingdoms – hopefully – came down on them like a ton of bricks. Until then we would just have to make do… and capture another castle, of course.
On the way to Blacktyde castle we gathered a camp following yet again, the numbers quickly equalling and outstripping the people we had brought along. This presented quite a problem as we could neither guarantee them transport to the continent, even though we would of course try, nor could we offer them more protection than the very presence of our army offered on its own.
Coming together with Lords Glover, Umber, Mormont, Blackwood and Wull as we made camp for the night – still half a week from Blacktyde castle and yet unchallenged – I brought up the topic for discussion.
"Drive them off, we have no use for them", shrugs Mors Umber and rips off a piece of the hard jerky that made up a lot of our rations.
"And leave them to the mercy of their former masters?", asks Tytos in a slightly challenging tone, glaring at the older lord. "We might just as well swing the ax ourselves."
"Mors is correct. We have no use for them and they are draining resources we need.", counters Jeor Mormont with a grumble, not raising to the challenge but moving ahead with cold hard facts." Already they outnumber our men half again. It will only get worse as we continue to move. How will you fight with that many smallfolk at our back seeking protection? We will be cut off at the knees with the Blacktydes just having to wait for us to collapse under our own weight."
"Neither can we leave them behind", adds chief Wull his own voice. "Tytos has a point as well. They flocked to us and now they are our responsibility, annoying as it might be."
"Your biggest problem with this situation is that they are useless to us, correct?", Tytos Blackwood speaks up again, waiting for Lords Umber and Mormont to nod their heads before turning to me, who had remained silent until now. "Well then. Make use of them."
I blink at the man, surprised for a moment, before a smile begins to grow on my face. "A militia?"
Tytos nods, grinning widely. "And hands to build fieldworks, scouts knowing the area, there are a lot of tasks to be done."
"Why would the thralls be willing to fight?", inquires chief Wull carefully. I could see in his face that he could have answered his own question but still played the part of the devil's advocate to get everything on the table.
"Vengeance. And because they have no choice, first of all.", starts Mors Umber, obviously warming up to the idea. "Their former masters will not forgive them easily for abandoning them at the first real chance they had. For most this would be the choice of either taking up arms or accepting being thrown off a cliff somewhere to feed the drowned god."
"Men without a choice make for bad troops", I state while not disputing the words of Lord Umber, they were true after all. "Let us encourage them on top of it. We will proclaim that we cannot guarantee that we will be able to get them all off the isles in the first wave and will give preferred treatment to those that fight at our side. We take care of our brothers in arms, after all."
"That is well and good...", cautions Jeor Mormont, "...but how will you equip so many men? Not to speak of feeding them?"
"They get what we can forage for both.", states Mors without sympathy. "Within a week I expect most to have at least a makeshift spear and some ramshackle shield. A lot will be wielding scythes or clubs of some sort as well but they will make do. After the first battle there will be some equipment of better make available and the survivors will survive the fighting after that a little easier. By the end of the war I expect them to be well outfitted through looting dead enemies, if nothing else."
"Any cravens or those playing both sides?", interjects Theo Wull, bringing up a topic not yet considered. We would be arming a group of people whose loyalty we could not assure or be sure of. No matter which angle one looked at the problem we would be taking a high risk.
Mors just shrugs. "Made an example off at the slightest hint of treachery."
"Practical as always", I state dryly but nod in acceptance. "Very well. Are we in agreement?"
Nods all around result in the decision being proclaimed to our camp followers the next day. Jeor Mormont would lead the auxiliaries, using his small remaining cadre of Bear Islanders as core of the next unit and to stiffen their backs come battle. For now they had their hands full hastily training some basic moves into the freedmen willing to fight beneath our banner. And there were a lot of them. Of the 1,500 we had gathered around us in the first two days of marching we gained 500 willing men and even some women to fight at our side.
Each day more former thralls flocked to our side and I couldn't help myself but think that the Ironborn may yet turn out to be their own greatest enemies. Building their society around the iron price and slavery in all but name may have worked for them in the past, but now it turned against them in a vicious circle. Most of their fighting powers away on the Iron Fleet the local nobles did not have enough forces at hand to keep the thralls and their families suppressed as easily as they had been able to in the past. Already we had moved past small villages that had been half burned down as neighbors turned on each other with our approach, the native reavers wanting to keep the smallfolk that wanted to join my own forces. Which side won could often only be pinned down by the number of people joining my host or fleeing before it.
We found a lot of bloodshed in our path on the way to castle Blacktyde without ever having to lift a sword ourselves. One day from the keep and the island's main settlement our army had grown to nearly 3,000 with twice again as many camp followers coming after us. I felt my hairs graying further with each new arrival joining the march, knowing that foraging alone was already damaging the island's economy for a generation at the very least. Thankfully most of the new arrivals had brought along enough supplies to last them a few weeks, mostly obtained by looting the corpses of their last 'employers'. I could care less for those fates, being too grateful that I did not have an instant revolt on my hands because I could not feed those flocking to the northern banner.
The next village we came across we found again burned down but this time an additional complication presented itself in the way of a seven pointed star flying on top of a pile of corpses. I stare at the village's population, roughly fifty people from greybeard to small child, piled in a bloody mountain in the center of the village. Looking up at the high pole placed in the middle of the butchery and the star flickering on top I feel rage grow within my heart.
While I had not been easy on the locals I had never resorted to outright slaughter like I was seeing in front of me.
"The Faith is here", states Tytos Blackwood icily as we stare at the scene. His face is completely blank but I see the burning hatred in his eyes as his eyes take in the deeds of those that drove him out of his home not too long ago. Not moving his gaze from the corpses, Mors, who is standing next to him, replies darkly. "So they are. I could have done without them."
"Couldn't we all", I mutter and fight down my growing rage, forcing it back into a small cage to be used at a later point in time. Being angry makes for bad decision making, well earned as the emotion might be in cases like this.
"What do we do about...this?", I continued and waved at the pile.
"For now we throw a torch on it before disease starts to spread.", Jeor speaks up, ever being the practical one. "After that… we will need to find these butchers and bring them to justice. This cannot be allowed."
"They are breaking the king's peace for sure", agrees Theo Wull before finally turning away. "Even in war there should be lines that are not crossed. Foraging is well accepted but this senseless butchery reeks of nothing but fanaticism. It cannot be in the king's interest… or that of anyone else."
Blackwood agrees easily. "Aye. If we find them they will die."
For once I am the one advocating caution even though I wanted the ones behind the scene dead as much as my fellow lords. "If we move against the Faith Militant here and now we might kick off a fight within the ranks of our allies when we least can afford it. The Ironborn will love it if we tear each other apart before they can do so."
Silence presses upon our gathering for a moment before Theo Wull speaks up again, softly but uncompromising. "Darren, we cannot let this stand. While every war has its part of slaugther, killing everyone down to the smallest babe cannot be allowed."
"I do not deny what you are saying", I sigh and massage my temples. "I am not even against killing them all but you all should be aware of the consequences if we do so."
"Who said we did it?", Jeor Mormont suddenly speaks up again, a small smile growing upon his face. "The brave people of the Faith Militant landed on Blacktyde, fighting for a just cause. Struggling against superior numbers they won great victories only to be ambushed by the dastardly islanders, who killed them all."
"Only your most trusted men.", I state to the suddenly grinning circle of lords, that somehow reminded me of mixed a pack of hyenas and wolves – not that such a thing would happen in the real world – just in this moment
Our men quickly looked through the small village, searching for traces of the attackers and anything else of interest. It does not take long for a tiny group of survivors, three children, to be recovered. They had hidden within an outhouse, the smell of shit and piss clinging powerfully to their thin bodies as they were brought before me. One look at them tells me that they are deeply traumatized by what they witnessed, something they would have to work through at some point if they lived long enough. Psychological help had yet to be invented, after all. It was a hard world.
A little coaxing and some food, after washing off the worst of their hiding place, got them to talk. The Faith had attacked a day earlier with a hundred men wearing the rainbow star, many having tattooed the symbol into the soft flesh of their forehead. Mostly wielding clubs or swords, they also wore very little armor and showed even less discipline as they came over the village like a swarm of locusts, killing everything in their path without even offering mercy. The children's mother had hidden them before drawing some of the attackers coming too close to the hiding place off, paying for it with her life.
The children could not see the village from their spot but heard the attackers well enough. And at one point they had been literally shat on but kept quiet, frozen in fear. From what they could glean the Faith Militant had acquired a few ships from somewhere and landed on the nearby coast with two hundred men, led by a septon they called a 'Lesser Sparrow' half of the time. After splitting in two groups the fanatics had moved for the closest villages before retreating back to the beached ships to make camp. Afterwards, if the children were to be believed, they would move further up the coast, burning and killing unbelievers as they moved until they could rejoin the greater host of the Faith which they had splintered from.
I dearly hoped this did not mean that the Faith Militant was on Blacktyde in force yet, which would cause me even greater trouble than the relatively few fanatics I could now verify the presence of. Now knowing that they fanatics had only half a day head start at most lit a fire beneath everyone's arse. Men-at-arms and militia alike had seen the aftermath of the Faith's attack and they were out for blood. I intended to deliver.
Taking two hundred trusted men, half under Lord Blackwood and half under myself, we moved ahead of the host and quickly caught up, driven by rage more than anything else. The men had been sworn in as soon as we moved far enough from the main group and had sworn to the last that they would what take what happened tonight to the grave. I suspected that something would get out at some point and become an open secret before long but I intended to control the narrative and send a raven or ten as soon as I was able. Hopefully this would not lead to more scenes like the ones we had witnessed even though it very well might. I had some – tiny – hope that King Robert and his lords could keep the Militants pointed at legitimate targets for the most part.
Finding our targets turned out to be easy. The fanatics had not bothered to put up guards or sentries around their landing area. Why, I had no idea. Maybe they trusted in their gods to protect them from mortal eyes or some other tripe. Still, I was not willing to look a gifted horse in the mouth and split the men again after conferring with Jeor for a few minutes.
I moved my men a little down the coast and waited for night to fall completely, never losing sight of our target as their campfires made them easy to spot from practically everywhere. The camp itself seemed to be in a good mood and I could spot at least half of them being literally drunk on their success. It seemed they did not take some parts of their faith as seriously as others. Not that I would complain to have an enemy drunk out of their mind in addition to one being less than careful. I had expected a lightly armed and armoured enemy. I got that in addition to one weakening itself just before the coming battle.
Right next to the ongoing festivities three cogs had been beached, men moving often to the ships to bring more food and drinks. The ships were not guarded at all as far I could see, causing me to shake my head. Fools. Looking at the ships I also recognized the lines as likely being produced in the Reach. This still did not explain how the Faith did get their hands on them in a time ships were premium but it offered a hint. Mentally shelving the question for later I refocus on the now. There was bloodwork to be done, for better or ill.
Having waited long enough I stand up and draw my bow, my men doing likewise behind me. I had fifty archers with me, the other being pure melee fighters. Looking at the scene one last time I draw back my arrow, the others following my example. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes for a moment before opening them again, targeting one man I took for a leader after having watched him a while, and let loose while breathing out. The screaming starts a moment later as three dozen men closest to the campfires are killed or heavily wounded in an instant. Another volley hits a second later, increasing the carnage even more as confused and panicked men stumble close enough to the fires to become easy targets.
Drawing my ax and raising my shield after losing the bow I roar. "No mercy! Kill them all!"
"No mercy!", comes the answering roar of the men as we charge the reeling group of reavers, for they were little else in my mind. They had just taken a different justification than the Ironprice to allow them their looting and pillaging.
Twenty of my men peel off halfway to secure the ships while I lead my main group right into the middle of the Faith Militant, the first of them having grabbed a weapon and turned to face our less than subtle approach. Not that it helped them any as the far superior training and equipment of my men made the ensuing battle less of a fight and more of a slaughter. Cutting down my third opponent I am again bathed in arterial blood as I cut straight through important blood vessels put under pressure by adrenaline. The men around me are equally bloody and ignore all pleas for mercy, killing and killing without pause or hesitation.
Quickly recognizing a battle lost as well as our intention to murder them to the last man six dozen men that had survived the initial onslaught turned landward and started to flee – only to run right into the men commanded by Lord Blackwood. While my men had suffered next to no casualties the other group fared worse as the Faith fought them with desperation. They still killed every last man running in their direction, pure hate quickly overcoming panicked defences as they hacked and stabbed into the fanatics with relentless abandon. Not even ten minutes after the first arrow is fired everything is over, leaving me to stand yet again in the middle of a field of dead bodies.
I sigh, suddenly feeling deeply tired.
With allies like these, who needs enemies?
Half an hour later we are vanishing into the dark again after making sure that our victims were really dead and not playing possum. Stabbing each corpse again to make sure was gruesome work but it had to be done. There could be no witness of our act. Sadly this also forced us to refrain from looting and to set fire to the beached ships as well. Fanatics would burn their transports before letting them be captured by unbelievers, no? I was still sour at the thought of destroying perfectly serviceable vessels but we could not risk them being recognised at some point, proving our involvement beyond a few rumors that would inevitably spring up at some point.
The burning ships bath sky in an orange hue as we move through back in the direction of our camp. Tytos Blackwood, who walks next to me suddenly smirks. "Not Brandon the Burner, hm?"
"Shut up, Tytos."
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