War Council

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝

The town of Seagard appeared relatively untouched by the recent events that had taken place more than a month ago, though that may be due to the fact that the Ironborn failed to breach its walls. The surrounding area of the town was littered with tents and banners, those belonging to great and powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms. Caravans were constantly flowing to and from the numerous camps, which is unsurprising due to the massive logistical challenge it must be to feed an army numbering in the tens of thousands.

I was riding ahead of the Westerlander host, along with my two uncles, Monty and several other Lords. Lords Andros Brax, Roland Crakehall and Damon Marbrand were some of the most powerful, influential and most importantly, loyal out of all of my fathers vassals. We all had a company of guards with us, despite our proximity to the town, the Riverlands always had a reputation for its large abundance of outlaws. The other lords were responsible for leading the army here; a force 18,000 men strong and that isn't counting the auxiliary support either.

It was from here, Seagard, that we would launch the offensive on the Iron Islands, that was obvious. Seagard is the closest town or city to the Islands that possesses a harbour large enough to hold the Royal and Redwyne fleet. Speaking of, the two fleets were both undergoing repairs at the moment, the battle off Fair Isle was probably the most damaging battle the Ironborn had been in this war. The Iron Fleet was scattered, rendering it difficult for them to oppose our invasion and Aeron Greyjoy was captured, now sitting within the confines of the Casterly Rock dungeons as a hostage.

We entered the town unopposed, making our way up to the keep of Seagard. Judging by the banners that were present, we were probably the last to arrive, which would be due to the long time it took to prepare and check over the men and supplies, I did not want to make the mistake of marching an ill-prepared army, after all an army marches on its stomach.

"It would seem that we are last to get here." Tygett mutters, despite his bad relationship with my father, he always treated Tyrion and I well. Gerion turned his head towards his older brother, "Well we would be here sooner if we your wife was not so tenacious in making you stay." Tygett glares at Gerion, who ignores him with a smile on his face.

My youngest uncle soon turns to me, "Don't worry Cerion, being last means all the attention is on you. Once those Lords take note of your handsome looks, they'll be lining up their daughters for your hand in marriage." He winks at me, I roll my eyes which earns the chuckles of both Roland Crakehall and Damon Marbrand.

We dismount our horses and pass the reins to a couple of stable boys. Men-at-arms and several knights were within the main courtyard, sparring with each other. It didn't take long before we were received by a boy dressed in the colours of House Mallister, "My Lords, I am Patrek Mallister, heir to Seagard, If you would follow me then I will lead you all to the great hall, where the King and the Lords are meeting." He finishes before turning around and walking towards the main entrance of the castle. Patrek couldn't have been more than a couple years younger than me but he was tall for his age, a trait he shares with his father.

We were lead down several corridors before stopping at a door, one guarded by two members of the Kingsguard, dressed up in their white cloaks, standing adjacent to the entrance. The sound of people speaking emanated from behind the door. Noticing who we were, one of the Kingsguard opened the door to the room and announced us, "The Lords of the Westerlands are here, Your Grace."

Despite there being several people speaking at the same time, the Kings boisterous voice rang out loudly, "Fucking finally, I was beginning to think that they were holing up inside that Rock of theirs again." A few people chuckled at his response. Seeing that the Kingsguard was still standing in the doorway, Robert Baratheon shouted derisively, "Well? What are you waiting for, a pat on the back? Let them in."

The knight of the Kingsguard stepped aside, allowing us to enter the room. It wasn't very big, but it didn't need to be, it would not be very good if someone didn't know what they were doing because they were sat too far away. I recognised the King right away, standing right in the middle of the room hunched over a large map, he was at the stage right now where he was getting fat but still possessed the strength to wield his Warhammer. Jaime was off to his side, as was Ser Barristan Selmy, Eddard Stark and Stannis Baratheon were next to the king, both being his strongest supporters amongst everyone here. Overall, there was many different Lords from all over the Seven Kingdoms, some I recognised and others I could only tell by the sigil they wore.

Everyone stopped to stare at us as we walked into the room, most no doubt expected my father to walk through but were surprised once they saw me. It wasn't long before mutterings and whispers broke out, questioning the Old Lion's whereabouts. Him staying at Casterly Rock was bound to start rumours, some saying that his health was deteriorating or that old age must've caught up, after all, it was unlike Tywin Lannister to not personally respond to an attack such as Lannisport. It might give off the appearance of House Lannister weakening, but all that was needed was the opportunity to contradict that, an opportunity that could well come with this war.

I looked to Jaime first, who's eyebrows rose so high that they were nearly reaching his hairline, that look slowly morphed into a questioning gaze as he stared at me. Ned Stark had adopted a more suspicious face, he never liked the Lannisters, even more so after the Sack of King's Landing. Stannis's eyes were undecipherable, cold and hard, but the tensing muscles on his forehead gives me an inkling as to what he is thinking as he grinds his teeth. The King laid bare his thoughts on his face, an outright scowl plastered on it.

My retinue and I all knelt down, performing the correct courtesies for the King. "Up!" Robert barked, standing upright now.

We all did so. I was staring at the King, ready to be interrogated on my presence and the lack of my father's. "Where's your father?" He asked me, cutting our courtesies short.

"He is at Casterly Rock, Your Grace. It would appear that the damage Lannisport sustained during the Ironborn attack, he believed it necessary that he oversaw the repairs of the harbour before the return of the Lannister fleet." I reply, it was a weak excuse but it was enough, the King can't just order the man around who is currently keeping the crown afloat with his gold.

The King scowled at my answer, he had asked for one of the greatest tactical minds in Westeros, not a boy who had just reached his age of majority. He knew he couldn't do anything further and thus, redirected his attention to strategizing.

"How many men have you brought with you?" He asks me, grabbing a small lion statue and moving it from Casterly Rock to Seagard. "18,000 Men, Your Grace".

"Ships?" Robert asks, I shake my head at his question, "The Lannister fleet are in a convoy headed to Essos, by the time they would reach us, the war could well be over." It wasn't sensitive information about the trade convoy, after all, it is rather difficult to hide a fleet sailing around the world.

"Stannis." The king says as he turns his head towards his brother, "You and Lord Redwyne will ferry our soldiers over to the Iron Islands, after you've done that, I want you to attack Great Wyk and prevent them from reinforcing the other islands." Stannis nodded his head, he had one of the most important roles in this war, Great Wyk was the largest amongst the Iron Islands and its terrain was unforgiving.

"Lord Redwyne, I wish for you to maintain and protect the supply lines from Ironborn skirmishes." The king ordered, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His mission wouldn't reward him with glory, but it was essential to their victory, leaving such a responsibility in the hands of a glorified wine merchant was not ideal.

It was odd seeing the King act so... professional. I would've expected him to have a mug of ale in one hand and a woman in the other, though it is well-known how much my good-brother loves war. It's probably the most excitement he's had in years.

"Ned." He says, turning to his foster brother, "I'll leave the responsibility of Orkmont on your shoulders." Eddard nodded solemnly at that, Orkmont was at the centre of the Islands, taking it would be necessary in order to cut off the enemy.

"Ser Barristan, I'll give you control of the Stormlander host and you'll take Old Wyk." Robert told him, "It shall be done, Your Grace." The old knight replied.

The King turned to look at me, scrutinising carefully, he was going to give me my role in this. "Lord Lannister, you'll take Harlaw for me." I nod my head. From what I remember of Maester Creylen's geography lessons, Harlaw was the most populous Island, as well as the most richest. It would prove a challenge, House Harlaw was second only to House Greyjoys in terms of power, maybe even more so in wealth.

"I will take the rest of the Baratheon forces and those from the Crownlands and besiege Pyke, once everyone has finished their objective then they are to join me at Pyke." The King said to everyone, some were even writing down what he was saying.

"Now, all of you leave me." He ordered, an order which everyone but his Kingsguard followed. "And someone bring in the wine."