Chapter 14: The woes of an admiral

Gerold Turner has served House Redwyne for as long as he could remember just as his father and his father before him. House Turner was just a knightly house but they were very close to the Redwynes of the Arbor. Gerold's brother, Addam Turner, served as the captain of Lord Redwyne's guards. His younger sister served as a lady in waiting for Lady Redwyne. Gerold had the honour of serving as the admiral of the Redwyne Fleet. The position has always been held by a Redwyne but with Lord Paxter serving as Master of Ships in King's Landing and half the fleet staying at Dragonstone the position fell to his hands.

Lord Willas Tyrell had sent ravens to the Arbor and the entire Reach about the fall of Shield Islands. The Mander was being raided day and night by the Ironborn. The smallfolk were fleeing from the shores and the Tyrells were bungling the whole thing just as always. Garlan Tyrell for all his vaunted martial powers was doing a shoddy job at repelling the Ironborn menace from the Mander much less the Shield Islands.

From what he heard the lad had attacked from the northern banks of the Mander. This just made the Ironborn concentrate the bulk of their men on the southern bank of the Mander. The Ironborn would raid up and down the Mander uncontested and he heard rumours that an Ironborn longship was sighted even from Highgarden! Whatever the Tyrell boys were doing it was not working and he hoped someone would step in before the Reach suffered more than it already has.

Gerold would have liked to sail against the Ironborn and give them battle but Lord Paxter had sent ravens ordering him to concentrate the fleet on the Arbor and sweep the coasts of the mainland for Ironborn longships. He understood the reasoning behind his lord's command. The attack on the Shield Islands and the raids on the Mander were merely a distraction. The true price has always been the Arbor and the Redwyne Fleet.

Even at half strength, the Redwyne fleet could do serious damage to the Ironborn ships. There were more than two hundred warships under the Redwyne banners not including several cogs, merchant galleys and other captured longships from the previous Ironborn rebellion. A hundred ships are with Lord Paxter and were now in the process of sailing around Westeros to reach the Arbor. After that, an attack on the Ironborn was possible without any risks. Even then the fleet would patrol the shoreline of the mainlands to ensure no reavers can do as they please or even threaten Oldtown itself.

Not on my watch, Gerold told himself.

He marched into the port of Redhaven where the warships of the Redwyne fleet was assembled. He was flanked by several guards of House Redwyne as he made a beeline for his ship, Strongtide. The last two days have been very vexing for the fleet as the weather has taken a turn for the worst. The mornings were filled with thick fog and heavy rains. Winds blew strong across the ocean at noon and at night everything was unnaturally quiet. Not even a tide would crash down on the shores at night which was weird. The men of the fleet were restless and they itched for a fight against the Ironborn.

It was his job to keep all these fuckers in line and make them do their duty. It was a hard job as more than half the fleet was filled with glory hounds who dreamed of sailing into the sea and bringing glory to their names. The last war had seen many men rise to prominence. Gerold himself had proven himself when he had smashed the longships of House Drumm in the invasion of Iron Islands.

Looking around at the fog covered port he let out a frustrated sigh at the stupid climate. It was as if the Seven was intentionally making his job a difficult one. With the Ironborn being active they needed clear visibility or else the Redwyne fleet will have the same fate as that of the Lannister fleet. Taking that into account he had increased the number of scouting ships and missions around the ports where the bulk of the fleet was gathered. He had abandoned scouting for the entire island in favour of concentrating on ports in this shitty climate. A ship has also been sent to Oldtown as well with a messenger alerting them to the woes faced by the Redwyne fleet and their inability to patrol the seas as effective as before. He would have preferred for that ship to be here but the Hightowers were an old family and he would not disrespect them with a simple raven. Besides, he had his doubts any raven would be taken seriously. The current lord Hightower was an isolationist that redefined that word in every manner. It was better to deliver the message straight into the hands of Baelor Hightower who was more amiable and engaged with the outside world.

"Admiral Gerold." A rushed cry was heard from his side which made Gerold pause in his step and soon he was met with an out of breath messenger.

"Easy lad. Take a deep breath and say it clearly." Gerold clapped the young lad on his shoulder.

"The Boldwind engaged an Ironborn longship a few miles from the port my lord." The lad managed to wheeze out making Gerold freeze.

"The Boldwind! Are you sure?" Gerold asked in surprise.

"Aye, my lord. Received the message straight from Captain Hornwell himself my lord."

"The Boldwind was sent west my lord. Can the Ironborn attack from the west?" one of his officers asked with a sceptical tone.

"The Ironborn are a crafty bunch. While savages and heretics they are the Ironborn know the sea like none other. I wouldn't put it past the fuckers to attack from the west while we expect them from the east." said Gerold absently as he began to think on what to do. He looked at the curious faces of his officers and some of the captains were gathering around him in quick order.

"Alright, listen to me you lot. This may be a tactic to lure our fleet out so we are not gonna take the bait. The ships Cloudwind and Seawrecker will sail to the west of our port and take a round. Sweep for any Ironborn ships but only engage from a distance. Under no circumstances we must give chase. If they want to leave let them leave. Our orders are to stand and defend the Arbor until Lord Redwyne returns with half our fleet and that's what we will do. Now scram."

Gerold watched the captains return to their ships and nodded in satisfaction.

"Have a few men with drums in rowboats spread out evenly at 500m distance from our port. I don't want any surprises." He ordered his first officer then he turned to another one of his officers serving on his ship.

"Ask the lads to man the scorpions of the ships. Alert the archers as well."

"Are we going to be attacked, my lord?"

"I don't know lad. But, it is always better to prepare for the worst. I would have liked to sail our ships out of the ports but with the shifty climate and storms in the seas, I can't take that chance. We will prepare as best as we can and hope we can hold out till Lord Redwyne returns with the rest of the fleet."

With that little bit of lesson imparted he made way for Strongtide. From the bow of his ship, he observed the men take up positions. The archers lined up at the port and over some of the towers. Then the wait began. Most of the time it was the long wait that proved fatal to the morale of an army but Gerold knew that they had the best ranged bows and scorpions. Any attack by the Ironborn could always be repelled. He watched silently as Cloudwind and Seawrecker sailed away from the port into the open sea for the scouting mission. Almost immediately rain began to pour down and he stepped into the Captain's cabin.

The men around the ships secured burning pitchers from the rain. It was a wasteful effort in his opinion as flame arrows would not do much damage in this rain but a lucky shot may find a barrel of oil or something flammable in the enemy ships. Stranger things have happened in sea battle after all. For almost an hour he waited and the men were getting restless. The blasted rain was getting further worse by the minute. Then out of nowhere a horrible sound came and it took all his willpower to not fall on his knees. The glass panes on his cabin simply shattered because of the sound and the same fate befell his Myrish spyglass. He noted that his men outside his cabin had it worse as many were writhing on the floor with blood pouring out from their ears.

"Get up men! Get up! To your stations." Gerold shouted as he sensed danger but once again the horrible sound came back to assault them.

This time Gerold fell on his knees, his ears ringing and his eyesight blurred. He was thrown on his back and rolled on his ship as something crashed into his ship. He blinked his eyes several times and then he saw Kraken sails. His heart froze cold at the sight and he took his sword from its sheath with some struggle. He stumbled around but managed to make his way to his cabin by some stroke of luck. His eyes were blurry but still, he managed to find the war horn and blew as many times as he could. The rain just fell harder and the winds howled in his ears showing their fury.

Gerold didn't know whether his men heard the horn but he sure hoped they did. He could see the Ironborn scum boarding his ship and he didn't intend to let these fuckers do as they pleased. He charged into their ranks picking up a shield along the way and smashed the shield on the first Ironborn he found straight on his face. Red hot blood splashed across the floor but the rain washed it away from the clean floorboards of his ship. Another Ironborn tried to take a swing with his axe but Gerold ducked and smashed his shield into the knee of his adversary. The Ironborn fell screaming as the knee cap was crushed under the blow. A flash of steel saw to it the Ironborn fall with a split throat. Gerold took a moment to get his bearings and moved to help his men fend off the Ironborn reavers who were spilling into his ship.

He kicked away an Ironborn that was about to stab one of his officers and stabbed his sword through the Ironborn's neck. He kicked the corpse away from his blade and helped his officer up.

"Attack the fuckers and aim for their neck and legs. The Ironborn wear armour, unlike any sane sailors lad." Gerold advised seeing as the officer was a recent recruit from a knightly house.

"Won't that drown them in the sea my lord?" the young officer asked loudly as he took up a stance with his sword.

"They love to drown lad and let's make sure the fuckers drown in our seas." Gerold yelled and soon he was fighting again but this time with more men by his side.

Gerold spun and sliced open the throat of another Ironborn reaver and he saw out of the corner of his eye an archer aiming an arrow at him. He raised his shield but the arrow found its mark and that was the young officer beside him who fell over dead with an arrow through his throat. That enraged Gerold and he smacked the blade of an Ironborn away and tried to cut his head off. But the reaver just ducked and attacked with a wide slash which Gerold managed to block with his shield. He tried to stab the Ironborn but his sword was repelled by the armour. Gerold cursed the Ironborn and their need to wear armour at the sea. By this time they had moved to the railings of the ship, he could see the sea of battle. All around him men were screaming as the Ironborn were cutting down the Reachmen like wheat in a field.

"What's up greenlander? Afraid to fight real men?" the Ironborn opponent of his mocked while spinning his sword in his hand with a cruel smirk.

Gerold merely responded with a jab of his sword which his opponent dodged and tried to leap in with a strike of his own. Gerold was looking for exactly that as he bent his knees and slipped forward at the same time getting under the guard of his opponent. He used his momentum to slam his shield into the abdomen of the Ironborn. Gerold pushed with all his might and had the Ironborn thrown over the rails of his ship and watched in satisfaction as the fool drowned by the weight of his armour.

By this time more Reachmen began to stream in and he could see the fight was now turning in their favour. He noticed an unmanned but loaded scorpion already pointed at an Ironborn ship. He ran straight for the scorpion and took charge of it dropping his shield and sword in the process. He turned the scorpion slightly and pulled the lever. He watched in glee as the scorpion blew straight through the wooden planks of an Ironborn ship. He cranked up the lever and was about to load another bolt but an arrow went through his throat. Gerold fell with a thud choking in his own blood. Slowly his vision began to blur but he could still hear the battle raging on. The clang of steel and screams of men was his last memory before darkness swallowed him whole.

Across the many ports of Arbor, Ironborn had struck with their ships and men. While the Reachmen managed to throw the Ironborn out of the lands they never managed to prevent the true aim of the Ironborn. The Ironborn were aware that they couldn't take a well-defended stronghold like Arbor and thus their true target was the Redwyne fleet itself. After their attack, the hundred-strong war galleys were reduced to a mere twenty most of which were in the process of capsizing or in need of serious repairs. The rest were taken over by the Ironborn themselves and they commandeered the ships into the open seas. With this single raid, the Ironborn managed to reduce the threat posed by the Redwyne Fleet into nothing and now the entire coasts of the Reach were open for raids.

All of a sudden the war in the Reach has taken a turn for the worse.

****

Sigorn had to admit that he liked sailing on ships. He had never seen giant ships like the one he was sailing in right now before the escape from Hardhome but he was truly loving it. He had seen small rowboats as the Thenn had tried to cross into the Bear Islands many a time on such boats. Only that the Thenn warriors never returned and they never heard from them ever again. Either those boats had sunk halfway in the sea or the Southerners had killed those brave souls. Either way, things were a lot more different now more than ever.

The Free Folk were all behind the safety of the Wall now all thanks to Jon Snow. The Little Crow was the reason the Free Folk survived the White Walkers and so long as they lived they will never forget what the Crow did for them. The Crow even gave his life for them and then he came right back as if he was a god that refused to go down. Thankfully the Crow didn't have icy blue eyes when he came back. Since then Sigorn had named the Crow as the Magnar of Thenn, their King. Tormund Giantsbane and the other Free Folk follow the Crow out of friendship and pride but not the Thenns. The Thenns follow the Crow for his strength and ruthlessness. The way in which the Magnar dealt with the traitorous crows, the Umbers and the Karstarks was proof enough that Jon Snow was a worthy Magnar of the Thenns. As if that was not enough the Magnar is the most powerful Warg that Sigorn has ever seen. The Magnar even have a giant fire breathing dragon for the Other's sake! The Magnar had led them from victory to victory and with a dragon under the Magnar's command defeat was not an option anymore.

It felt good to be on the winning side even if he had to work with kneelers. Sigorn respected Mance Ryder as the man proved his strength by defeating his father in single combat and uniting the Free Folk clans. But Mance Ryder simply lost when it was absolutely necessary to win. The former King beyond the Wall was taken captive the following day after he failed to take the Wall. The Free Folk host was scattered from the Southern army's assault and became easy pickings to the Walkers and their dead slaves.

If Jon Snow hadn't arrived at Hardhome with those ships then not a single Free Folk would have survived the assault from the dead. He owed his life and that of his clan's to Jon Snow. This is why he was not even complaining about wearing this bulky armour that the Manderlys gave him and his men. The armour was for making them look like knights and less like 'barbarian wildlings' according to the fat lord of White Harbour.

Sigorn didn't care how he looked like so long as it gets the job done he was a happy man. Right now, there is cause for him to be a happy man.

He had done what he came here for and the 'here' as in Fingers of the Vale. He had escorted Little Petyr who was an obedient little pet and the pet did everything as he was ordered. Little Petyr led them to his castle dodging all those fancy knights that guarded the place and began filling up the ships with gold, lots of gold. He was told by some lad that arrived with him on the ships that the gold numbered six million. He had no idea what that was as he could only count to ten. He was assured that it was a lot of gold and he just shrugged not at all interested.

He was told to bring Little Petyr here and help with securing the gold which he did. That was all that interested him and now he would be returning to the North with all his men. The bulk of the Manderly Fleet, as well as the fleet under Davos, would be sailing to Essos. Sigorn didn't care about that either because he was more interested in the North especially the Magnar's sister.

When Sigorn had first met Sansa Stark he fell in love right there. The wolf was kissed by fire and to think the children they could have made him dream of a glorious future. He knew of the Starks very well. There were stories of Winter Kings still told among the Thenn. The Thenns respected the strong and the Starks are strong. The Magnar has a direwolf following him around like a puppy while those vile beasts had killed many of his men beyond the Wall. He had heard tell that all the Starks had direwolfs and he learned that Sansa Stark's direwolf was killed some time ago. While that made him a little bit disappointed he supposed he could capture one and gift it to her. She could bend the direwolf to her will and then he would have her favour.

The thought of stealing Sansa Stark did cross his mind but it quickly fled from his head at the thought of that huge dragon. He didn't fancy being dragon food because of the Magnar's ire. He had heard tales that the Magnar himself was stolen by that fire kissed bitch Ygritte. If he could make Sansa Stark steal him to her bed then the Magnar won't be mad at him now, will he?

"You will help me won't you Little Petyr?" Sigorn asked his pet and the thin pale-looking man nodded fervently.

"Yes, your suffering will greatly entertain the Magnar's sister and she will be very happy with me. Then I will woo the wolf and then we will have strong children that will ride great beasts into war." Sigorn dreamed excitedly and all that would come to pass.

But first, he had to return to the North.