PinkSnake - Storm of the Stag - 400/401

Chapter 400: The Blood Challenge

Above Greyshield, three Dragons circled in midair: the black dragon Balerion, the green dragon Vhagar, and the white dragon Viserion.

Spiraling dragonfire began to fall, and scorching heat spread through the air.

“I would have let him live, if he had knelt to me,” Gendry said, looking at the headless corpse of Harras, who had stood among the highest of the Ironborn. “Harras Harlaw had great value.”

Ser Harras’s stern, long-faced head had been cut off, tarred, and mounted on a spear.

“He was Rodrik’s heir and supporter,” said the old but still sturdy Lord Jason Melisent. Jason wore a winged helm and an indigo cloak.

Seagard in the Riverlands had been built to defend against the Iron Islands, so its people knew the Ironborn factions well.

Harlaw was not the largest of the Iron Islands, but it was the richest and most densely populated, and Lord Rodrik’s strength could not be underestimated.

“A pity he was as hardheaded as the rest of the Ironborn,” Gendry said. To him, Ser Harras was only a minor figure. The only one worth his full attention was Crow's Eye.

“But if Harras is dead, Lord Rodrik may be in danger. He is the brother of Balon’s wife, and naturally supports the old Kraken’s children,” Randyll Tarly said. “Crow's Eye likely won’t spare his enemies.”

Every Ironborn captain was his own king, so the Ironborn were a loose thing by nature.

Rodrik Harlaw, Gorold Goodbrother, and Dunstan Drumm were all opponents of Euron Crow's Eye. The three of them feared Euron would expand the war, but they could not overcome the Ironborn’s hunger for the Old Ways.

Harlaw was the wealthiest and most populous island.

House Goodbrother had produced more kings at Kingsmoots than House Greyjoy. Hammerhorn lay deep within the island’s hard stone hills, far from the open sea, and House Goodbrother’s wealth came mainly from mines rather than the sea.

“House Goodbrother and House Harlaw are both oddities. Houses that rely on trade don’t seem to care much for raiding,” Gendry thought. In any case, it was a matter of divide and rule, of distinguishing between different kinds of Ironborn.

Since the Ironborn were stubborn beyond saving, they could only be dealt with physically, with Dragon bombardment.

“Harlaw will not be the last. These men who refuse to kneel, I will wipe out their clans,” Gendry said calmly.

“This is already their second rebellion. Treason.”

Dragonfire swept over all the Ironborn corpses. With a few soft pops, the dead men’s eyeballs burst like eggs, and their hair seemed to swell, like crowns of flame.

The charred stench stirred the Dragons. Balerion tore away most of Harras’s body, swallowing while breathing fire to roast the corpses on the ground.

The Dragons roared together and began tearing at human flesh.

The three Dragons fought over Harras’s corpse and devoured it completely.

“Could Harras’s corpse still carry the bloodline of the ancient Grey King?” Gendry wondered. But that bloodline was far too old, and likely held little magic now.

All Ironborn houses claimed their blood could be traced back to the Grey King and his sons. Only House Goodbrother believed themselves descended from the Grey King’s loyal elder brother.

Gendry watched the three Dragons tear and feed. Dragons were chaotic, evil creatures, born for war.

To Dragons, eating men was no different from eating anything else. In wartime, Dragons did not refuse human flesh, but they did not especially love it either.

Most outrageous of all, some Dragons even ate their own kind, and dragon eggs.

Nearly all the knights and servants stepped back together. Garlan Tyrell could hardly bear the sight.

“Enough. Balerion, Vhagar, Viserion.”

Gendry stopped the feeding Dragons. A little was fine. Treating men as a proper meal was too evil.

The good thing was that Dragons had no special interest in humans. Cattle, sheep, and large fish were their favorites.

Rolling dragonfire burned until the Ironborn were completely swallowed.

Garlan Tyrell watched Gendry command the Dragons. The fierce creatures had already turned away.

“These Dragons obey King Gendry’s commands, and they are very tame.”

“Dragonkeepers.”

Sandor Clegane brought the Dragonkeepers in black scale armor forward, pushing great cuts of butchered bull meat. The Dragons instantly lost interest in the Ironborn corpses.

Smoke rose from the Dragons’ nostrils, then flame. The Dragons roasted all the beef and began feasting.

Garlan wiped the sweat from his brow. It was not the cruelty of the battle that unnerved him, but the terror of the Dragons.

“Your Grace...” Garlan said. “Aside from House Serry, the other three lordly houses have been completely destroyed.”

“Go gather clues about their distant kin.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“We absolutely cannot let Crow's Eye escape,” Ser Hobber Redwyne said.

“Quiet, Hobber. Don’t forget why your father sent you to Highgarden,” Garlan said.

As the second son, Ser Hobber was part of Lord Paxter’s worst-case plans. Paxter had sent away his daughter and his second son.

“He won’t escape. He will still be waiting for me,” Gendry said, handing over his battle-axe. His new squire, Dickon Tarly, lifted The Wail of the Kraken and began wiping the blade for the King.

This had been Randyll Tarly’s private request, and Gendry had no reason to refuse. Randyll’s younger son truly did seem like a fine knightly seedling.

A King’s or Prince’s squire could be changed. Once a squire became a knight, another could be chosen. There was no problem with having multiple squires.

Gendry’s former squires had been Anguy and the others, but Anguy had already been knighted.

“Valyrian steel is extremely sharp. Be careful.”

“As you command, Your Grace.” Dickon’s face flushed red. “My father has Heartsbane, and I have wiped it for him many times.”

Garlan noticed Dickon, but said nothing.

Westeros had a two-layer system of rule, the great lords and the Iron Throne. The direction of lesser lords depended on which was stronger, the King or the great lord.

Customs officers, wine tax collectors, wool tax collectors, and others sent by the Iron Throne also moved through the realms.

Now that the Dragons had returned, under the rule of the Dragon King, the royal power of the Iron Throne was reviving. Naturally, the lords would draw closer to the King.

“Toward the Westerlands, notify Old Oak to prepare and secure the connecting area.”

“Understood.”

“Move the trebuchets toward Oldtown. Also, leave some men to guard the Shield Islands.”

“As you command, Your Grace,” Garlan said.

In truth, the Shield Islands had already become dead towns. It would take a very long time for them to recover.

...

Fair Highgarden, beautiful Highgarden, green Highgarden.

The army returned to Highgarden with news of victory in the first battle. Harras’s head was mounted on Lothor’s spear.

Gendry rode a black steed, while Daenerys rode a small silver horse.

The golden quartered war banner rose above all other banners, and a river of gold, silver, and steel flowed forward.

The Dragons circled above the crowd, shadows cast within the blazing sun.

The commotion and shouting stopped. Ten thousand voices fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned to the sky.

“Gods above.”

The nobles, knights, ladies, and Oldtown guild merchants in Highgarden widened their eyes. The Dragons had come. Oldtown could be saved.

“How did they grow so quickly?” Lady Olenna whispered in disbelief. When she had seen them last, these Dragons had not possessed such fighting power.

“Welcome His Grace Gendry the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, King of Myr, Tyrosh, the Stepstones, and the Disputed Lands, Commander of the Wolf Pack Company, Breaker, Lord of Dragons, Sword of Morning Light, Dragon King Storm, and his wife, Queen Daenerys.”

Horns sounded, and Ser Barristan, clad in a white cloak, proclaimed it loudly.

The outside of Highgarden’s three rings of walls was packed with people. Lady Olenna had brought a crowd of nobles to wait for the King at the outer wall beneath the hill.

Five white knights escorted King Gendry and Queen Daenerys, along with the King’s squires. On either side were gold-cloaked guard knights, knights of the Stormlands, knights of the Vale, and more.

Behind them, the Unsullied stood tall with shields and spears in hand, the steel spikes on their helms flashing cold as daggers.

“Your Grace, you are the savior of the Shield Islands,” Ser Willas Tyrell declared.

“Your Grace, Oldtown is at your command. Oldtown begs for your aid,” Ser Jon Cupps said. He was House Hightower’s envoy, and Lord Leyton’s son-in-law.

“The Kraken also sent us a letter of humiliation. Crow's Eye seized Lord Leyton’s son Gunthor, and the letter was written in blood.”

Jon wailed as he presented the challenge before everyone, the blood challenge.

“Great King Gendry, please come to Oldtown’s aid.”

The merchants of Oldtown were the most desperate.

“Yes, Your Grace. The Ironborn burned our ships and warehouses.”

The merchants wept and clamored at once.

The face House Hightower had lost could not be helped. These merchants had been waiting all this time.

The Ironborn had set the docks ablaze, and every merchant had suffered heavy losses. They feared and hated Crow's Eye. Now that they saw Gendry, they grew even more excited.

...

Chapter 401: The Kraken and the Blood Tide

Highgarden was a city of white and fresh green. The castle was built of white marble, and inside and outside its walls lay a green paradise where flowers bloomed everywhere.

Highgarden stood atop a hill, overlooking the Mander below. The Ocean Road and the Roseroad met here.

Highgarden was beautiful, but the land around it was a broad plain. Its defenses relied mainly on walls, with no natural strongpoints to hold, much less any way to resist Dragons.

“Welcome His Grace Gendry and Queen Daenerys to loyal Highgarden.”

Bronze trumpets sounded, and beneath the golden rose on green, heralds cried out loudly.

House Tarly’s Horn Hill lay inland, among wooded hills a hundred leagues northeast of Oldtown, far from the coast.

Highgarden was not especially far from Oldtown either.

“Long live the Storm.”

The golden banner looked down upon all, and Dragons danced through the sky. The nobles of The Reach stood solemnly, each of them seeming utterly loyal.

“Long live the Storm.”

Frail, sharp-tongued Lady Olenna led the cry. Beside her stood two guards in gilded halfhelms and green cloaks edged with golden thread, the golden rose of Highgarden embroidered on their chests. Both men stood seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, their bodies packed with muscle.

The twin guards had the same strong jaws, the same deep blue eyes, and the same thick red beards.

Lady Alerie, the tall and dignified wife of Great Lord Tyrell, wore jeweled rings woven into her long silver braid.

Although they were still young Dragons, a single breath from beasts larger than warhorses would be deadly. And then there was the Ironborn head on the tip of the spear. It was said the rest of his body had been burned away by dragonfire.

“Your Grace, speed is precious in war. The strength of the High Tower supports the realm as well. Every merchant ship can be exchanged for grain of equal value,” the merchants of Oldtown pleaded.

Oldtown had fought until now without catching a single great fish, and had lost the docks and Gunthor besides.

Gendry, meanwhile, had already retaken the Shield Islands and slain Lord Harras in single combat. By comparison, House Hightower’s incompetence stood out even more.

“Yes, Your Grace. Now that the harbor is blocked, wine, wool, peaches, textiles, and the rest cannot be exported.”

“We beg Your Grace to drive back the Ironborn. Our ships have all been burned, and we cannot return home,” a black Summer Islander muttered, while the hairy Ibbenese nodded along.

Westeros was a wealthy kingdom renowned throughout the Known world, with fertile land, vast territory, and a large population. Naturally, many foreigners came to trade.

Essos was vast, but much of it was wasteland and desert, and great stretches were the Dothraki Sea. The good land was mostly along the coasts.

“Some of our ships were bought with loans from moneylenders and the Oldtown Bank, and those debts still must be repaid,” other merchants wailed over their failed investments.

“I will protect your interests,” Gendry promised. “As for the money you borrowed from the Oldtown Bank, I believe Lord Hightower will judge the situation properly and consider these special circumstances.”

Oldtown had a bank as well, House Hightower’s Oldtown Bank, said to be quite profitable. But after such a calamity, there was likely a risk of a run.

“If Your Grace sends troops, Oldtown’s guilds will be endlessly grateful, and we will not let your soldiers go hungry.”

The Oldtown merchants made their guarantee. They could still provide wages and supplies for Gendry’s elite reinforcements, though they could not support a great fleet.

A thousand-mile march was made for profit. These Oldtown merchants were truly frightened. Crow's Eye had burned the docks. If he truly stormed into Oldtown itself, that would be even more terrifying.

“How do you want the Iron Throne to rescue Oldtown?” Gendry asked them.

“The great fleets, Your Grace. Oldtown begs for the Redwyne fleet and the Royal Fleet to be sent out, along with your Dragons. The situation will quickly improve. The Iron Fleet is no match for two great fleets,” said Ser Jon Cupps, the envoy from Oldtown.

“And the Oldtown fleet?” Gendry asked, already knowing the answer.

“Almost the entire Oldtown fleet was burned in Oldtown’s docks. Not one survived,” Jon said with a mournful face.

The Oldtown fleet, the Oldtown docks, and Gunthor Hightower, the man who managed those docks, had all been destroyed together. Oldtown had become almost an undefended city.

“I will consider your words,” Gendry said, though he did not agree in his heart.

The Twin Cities Fleet was on its way to Oldtown, but not so quickly. It had to cross the Stepstones and the Dornish Sea.

Even with sea charts, that journey was slow. Besides, Gendry had not ordered them to hurry so much.

“Your Grace, as long as Lord Paxter advances with us by sea and land and blocks the Iron Fleet at the mouth of the Honeywine, those iron bastards are dead for certain.”

“Are you teaching me how to fight a war?”

Gendry looked at Jon, a flicker of anger flashing through his eyes.

The air seemed to grow colder, dropping to freezing point.

When the Storm grew angry, armies shrank back.

Harras’s tarred head seemed to come alive, staring at the envoy from Oldtown.

“Yes. No, no. I am your servant.” Ser Jon felt a crushing pressure. It came from power, will, and the shivering edge of killing intent.

“Oldtown still has twenty or thirty thousand soldiers. Its military strength is considerable. After I refine the troops at Highgarden, I will march straight to Oldtown.”

Lady Olenna, Ser Willas Tyrell, and Ser Garlan Tyrell all breathed a sigh of relief. This was not refusing to fight, but gathering strength first.

Otherwise, such a huge army would remain in The Reach eating and drinking, consuming enormous supplies. They were also eager to save Oldtown quickly.

“There are twenty or thirty thousand men, yes, but a great many of them are Sellswords and novices. Ser Garth is still training them. Those men cannot be relied on,” Ser Jon stammered.

Randyll Tarly pursed his lips. Embroidered pillows wrapped in gold.

The sharp edge Gendry had selected was made of elite soldiers, each worth ten.

As for House Hightower, aside from a few directly sworn houses, they were simply trying any remedy in a desperate illness, grabbing able-bodied men wherever they could.

Oldtown was wealthy, yes, but Oldtowners were used to trade, not expansion. One rarely heard of them winning any fine battles.

“Hiring that many soldiers is already no small thing. Twenty or thirty thousand,” Ser Barristan commented.

Oldtown’s defensive strength was richer than the force defending King's Landing. If House Hightower had not run into magic, they would not have appeared so useless.

“Send ravens to Oldtown. Hold firmly, and there will be a way. As for the Redwyne fleet at the Arbor, have it await my orders.”

“As you command, Your Grace.” Jon wore a bitter expression. “House Hightower will first hold Oldtown.”

Gendry did not take that seriously. Looking at the history of Westeros, which great city had not been sacked or besieged? Storm's End, Winterfell, Highgarden.

If House Hightower did not have even that much ability, then it was unworthy of being called a great house.

Even Highgarden had once been looted and burned by the Dornish. The Oakenseat had been burned, the old king killed, and most of the city’s buildings reduced to rubble.

In the end, it was Ser Osmund Tyrell, the High Steward, who joined with other nobles of The Reach to defeat Peake and Manderly, then raised Mern VI as king.

“Lord Leyton should first move out his treasury and the Citadel’s libraries. The Battle of Oldtown will be especially bloody.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Gendry and Daenerys rode into Highgarden, whose three gates had already been opened one after another.

The lowest wall encircled the entire foot of the hill. Between it and the second wall was a carefully tended hedge maze, used to entertain guests and for amusement.

“Worthy of a city sung about by singers,” Daenerys praised.

Sansa Stark also observed Highgarden. It was as lovely as Margaery Tyrell had described.

But Willas was lame and older as well, so Sansa simply ignored him.

The road into Highgarden was full of laughter and cheerful voices. Margaery’s ladies were delighted to see her.

The Rose was as flourishing as the Lion. Looking at them, it seemed the Arryns had suffered the worst.

Margaery’s three cousins, Megga, Alla, and Elinor, were still children themselves, not even eight years old. The noisy, plump Meredyth Crane was very merry.

...

On a small island in the Redwyne Straits, there was now a paradise for the Ironborn.

In a desolate stone hall, a dozen corpses hung from the rafters, swaying back and forth.

A dozen of Euron’s captains sat in the hall, drinking beneath the bodies.

Crow's Eye sat in the main seat, wearing a blood-red cloak. Beside him was “Left-Hand” Lucas Codd, the Red Oarsman, followed by “Pinchface” Jon Myre, Stonehand, and “Salt­-Beard” Rogin.

“Dead. They’re all dead,” Maron Volmark said in panic. “The Stag’s men landed, and they had Dragons. Ser Harras is surely dead.”

“Dragons? How large?” Crow's Eye Euron Greyjoy asked.

“About larger than warhorses. They can already breathe flames deadly enough to kill,” Maron said, pale and trembling.

“They have come,” Crow's Eye said proudly. “The little King has traveled a thousand miles to rescue Oldtown.”

“They dared to whimper threats at us. Baratheon, Redwyne, Hightower, Tyrell. Hmph, hmph, never stopping. So I sent them all to hell,” the Red Oarsman declared.

“Roses have thorns, and stags have even more,” Rodrik said from below.

“Ironborn fear no blood. We have taken spoils. Your heir dies, and now you are afraid?”

Lord Rodrik opened his mouth. “Spoils? Do you mean these rocks? All four islands together are not as large as Harlaw. We won rocks, trees, and trifles, along with the enmity of House Tyrell and the Iron Throne.”

“The Rose? The Stag?” Nute the Barber burst into laughter. “Can roses and stags defeat the Kraken of the deep?”

“Highgarden,” the Reader answered. “Yes. Now the Iron Throne and all The Reach will gather against us.”

Drumm nodded, one hand resting on the hilt of Red Rain. “Lord Tarly has the Valyrian greatsword Heartsbane, and he has always been Great Lord Tyrell’s vanguard.”

“Let them all come. At sea, the Kraken is supreme,” Victarion said.

“No. We go to Oldtown. The Redwyne fleet will not dare appear alone. I will seize the King’s Dragons at Oldtown, then break the fleet.”

Crow's Eye laughed loudly.

“That is too dangerous.”

“Not dangerous at all, little brother. Soon, you will know what it means when the Kraken appears and the blood mist rises. I am the greatest storm under heaven.”