Fighting against the pirates IV

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-Eddark Stark Pov tenth moon 288 AC

Despite our success in taking the port, the war was far from over. To secure our advance toward Pyke, we needed complete control over the Ironborn fortresses in the area. Lord Lannister, foreseeing the necessity of seizing the castles surrounding the port, had brought a large supply of siege weapons, which were immediately deployed against Botley Castle, a crucial stronghold to secure our positions and prevent any threat to our rear.

True to their reputation and the legacy of "The Rains of Castamere," the Lannisters quickly raised dozens of trebuchets, and the bombardment of Botley Castle began without pause. The walls and towers of the Botley stronghold began to crumble under the relentless assault, and within hours, parts of the castle started collapsing. The Lannister siege engines proved unstoppable, and the Botley defenders seemed to have little hope of withstanding the onslaught.

Yet, just as we prepared to advance further in the darkness, something alarming caught our attention—a large fire rose from the Lannister siege camp. In the confusion, news arrived that a group of Ironborn had descended from the nearby mountains and hills in a surprise attack. Using the cover of night, the pirates struck the Lannister forces, killing dozens, including a distant cousin of Lord Tywin, and setting much of the siege equipment ablaze before retreating back into the hills with hardly any losses.

The following day, in response to the night raid, knights were deployed to track down and eliminate these hidden groups of pirates. However, the news that reached us in the days following was disheartening. As we captured several villages along our route to Pyke, we received reports of constant ambushes. Most of the knights sent to root out the pirates were falling prey to well-laid traps in the hills; they were attacked from higher ground, with rocks and spears proving deadly. The pirates, exhibiting unexpected cunning, utilized every feature of the terrain to maximize their strikes.

It soon became apparent that these were no mere disorganized raiders. Reports indicated that they were led by a group of seasoned veterans, fiercely determined to defend their homeland. Every attempt to quell them ended in disaster, and frustration among our forces grew. These veterans seemed to know every stone, every hidden path, and every natural ambush point in the landscape.

For several nights, the pirates dared to emerge from their hideouts, striking our main camps and then quickly retreating to the safety of the mountains. Though we outnumbered them, we found ourselves helpless to stop their guerilla attacks. The rugged and treacherous terrain made it impossible to pursue them on horseback, while they moved with the ease and confidence of those intimately familiar with the land.

The news worsened. While we and the Prussians maintained a certain discipline, the southern lords, driven by greed and vengeance, showed no such restraint. Reports poured in of plunder and atrocities committed in Ironborn villages, fueling the local resistance. More and more villagers fled to the hills to join the defenders, and with every new addition, the attacks grew fiercer and deadlier. We had no idea how many they numbered, only that their ranks continued to swell—a direct consequence of the southerners' cruelty.

When we finally reached Pyke, we faced an unexpected challenge—snow began to fall. For us Northerners and for the Prussians, who had lived among us for years and came from icy climates, snow was a minor inconvenience. But for the southern lords, it was a different story. They were unprepared for the harsh winter conditions, and the snow posed a real threat. The combination of hostile terrain, a brutal climate, and an increasingly organized local resistance wore down the morale of the southerners, who saw that each step toward Pyke grew slower and costlier than anticipated.

Following the Prussians' advice, we set up our camps as close to the coast as possible, avoiding the hills to minimize the risk of a surprise pirate attack. The strategy was clear—the further we stayed from the hills, the less likely we were to face an ambush. However, when the Lannisters and Tullys arrived and set up their camps perilously close to Pyke Castle, ignoring the Prussians' warning, the consequences were swift.

That very night, chaos erupted. A fire broke out in one of the Lannister camps, lighting up the dark sky and sowing confusion among the men. Just moments later, screams and the clash of steel echoed as the Ironborn, using the fire as a diversion, launched a surprise attack under the cover of night. Knowing every inch of the terrain and moving skillfully through the shadows, the pirates struck with precision before disappearing back into the hills before we could mount a coordinated defense.

The casualties were significant. The Lannister and Tully men, caught between the fire and the surprise assault, suffered heavy losses, and much of the siege equipment was left destroyed or scattered in the ensuing chaos. This raid made it clear that the Ironborn were prepared to fight to the last man, and that any mistake or overconfidence on our part would be dearly paid for on their lands.

The Ironborn attacks became a deadly routine, occurring every three to five days without warning and in every location. With each raid, they reminded us that we were far from friendly territory. The snow, which continued to fall, complicated everything further: supply routes became impassable, and each strike in the snowy landscape became a battle of endurance.

Lord Arryn was visibly unsettled. The logistics of maintaining the siege were becoming a heavy burden, and with each passing day, his anxiety grew. The idea of returning to the Vale before winter set in weighed on his words and expressions. The food shortages across the Seven Kingdoms only made matters worse. With The Reach embroiled in war and refusing to sell grain, feeding the troops had become an almost insurmountable challenge.

As for Robert… though he joined in the battles, he had changed. He participated, but his old vigor and passion seemed dimmed. The overall situation grew grimmer with each passing day.

"We need to do something about Robert," I told Arryn, a mix of concern and frustration in my voice.

Arryn nodded, but his eyes held a deep sadness. "What do you think I've been trying to do, Ned? But he has no will to do anything. And it's not like before, when he avoided responsibilities because they felt tedious. This is different." His voice lowered as he glanced toward Robert's tent. "He's gone nearly a month without drinking. He stays alone in his tent, away from everyone… even I don't recognize him anymore. This is the version of Robert I always thought we needed—a more serious, restrained king. But not like this… it pains me to see him in this state."

I watched Robert from a distance. In all the campaigns we'd been through together, I'd never seen him like this. He had always been a whirlwind of life and energy, the first to charge, the last to leave the tavern, with a spirit that made him stand out among any crowd. But now, that fire was extinguished, and the man who stayed in the tent seemed a shadow of the one we'd known.

"It seems Lord Hohenzollern's words cut far sharper than the Prussian blades," I said to Jon, trying to mask my own worry.

Jon nodded, his expression a mix of fear and exhaustion. "They did, Ned. And now, more than ever, we need Robert's leadership. But without him… everything is complicated. These pirates are relentless, and Tywin's men aren't helping matters. His 'rabid dogs' are ravaging everything in their path, burning and killing without mercy. The resistance is fiercer by the day; every man the Lannisters execute, every village they destroy only strengthens the pirates hiding in the hills."

I looked around our camp. Snow covered every corner, and the cold bit through even our warmest clothes, which felt increasingly inadequate. "We don't have the gear to withstand this weather," Jon went on, his face visibly worried. "My maester has already started seeing cases of men with frostbitten fingers and toes. The weather worsens daily, and if we don't secure supplies soon, I don't know how long we can hold out."

Jon's words resonated with an urgency I couldn't ignore. The situation was growing more critical with every passing day.

"What if we left the war to the Prussians? They're winning; our presence isn't necessary," I suggested to Jon, hoping to find a way out of this unsustainable situation.

Jon gave a bitter smile. "With Tywin and Hoster's pride? Do you think they'd let Lord Hohenzollern take all the glory? No, Ned," he said, a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Withdrawing now would mean the bards would sing of how the Prussians won the war while we hid away. It'd be a direct blow to the pride of every noble and, especially, to Robert's already weakened throne. In these circumstances, we can't afford that luxury."

I nodded slowly, understanding the implications. Jon was right—abandoning the fight now would devastate the reputation of the great lords and, worse yet, the standing of Robert as king. The banners expected to see us leading the charge, and the common folk looked to their leaders for inspiration, not to watch them retreat while another army claimed victory in their place.

"We came here to wage war, Ned, and we'll have to stay. Otherwise, we risk losing face with our banners and, even worse, the people's trust," Jon concluded, his expression hardened by the realization that this was a war from which we could no longer escape.

"Let's hope this ends soon," I said to Jon, and he only nodded.

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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