28 What is dead may never die

I had a fair bit of demotivation while writing that one, ngl. Took me some time to minimize the inconsistencies I first had and all of that. Also needed some time to think (my future and stuff like that, you know).

Small Westerlands map, if needed.

(8300+ words)

——————

Eleven months later

Casterly Rock, 289 AC

Today, the sun illuminates the hills of the Westerlands. It's been that way for most days since last year. And that's the perfect time to sail on the Sunset Sea. This is stressful to think that the Ironborns could arrive at any time.

This doesn't help to improve my slightly off mood. Not knowing when something is going to happen… this annoying feeling couldn't leave me alone since my last name day.

This behavior of mine worsened ten months ago. By playing all my cards, I ended up gathering some minor pieces of information about the Iron Islands. It is frankly difficult to know anything about the current affairs of a place as isolated, both territorially and culturally, as these islands.

All Leroy could tell me was that boats in the Riverlands had seen unusually large movements of ships sailing between the islands. But these ships had only been sighted from the horizon and no maritime conflict took place. They did not see them close enough to see anything else, and no movement was seen outside of their territory. This made any public announcement about a possible threat unfounded, and the Riverlands didn't know what to make out of this anyway.

From what I knew, this clearly meant that an attack was being prepared. It made me think that a lot of things were happening in the Iron Islands. The progress of these internal affairs could be interesting to follow from there, maybe to get to know when they would finally attack us.

In the end, I decided to send one of my best-trained killers in infiltration there to give me some info. I hesitated a lot since I only had five killers to my disposition. But she was the one who had sneaked into Hornvale and flawlessly killed lord Brax. My confidence in her discretion and other abilities, therefore, convinced me to proceed with this plan.

And so she was sailed there by a shady merchant. She managed to convince him that she was a desperate beggar searching for some work in the Iron Islands, no matter the type of job. On my side, I collected some info on that merchant to be certain that he was not playing a trick on us by portraying himself as the naive type of man on purpose. What I discovered indirectly made me understand some of what was going on in the Iron Islands.

The guy was an old merchant who had already started to trade with the Ironborns before the rule of lord Quellon Greyjoy, Balon's father. In addition to being a merchant, he was a human trafficker who secretly supplied one or two Ironborn families with 'fake thralls'. Having no idea what a thrall meant, I researched this topic immediately.

It's actually an indentured servant, the kind you can't find in Westeros anymore since a long time ago. Some rumors from the Wall state that the free folk would also have this tradition of having thralls. And in Braavos, possessing one is simply prohibited.

According to the rules of the Old Way, those used by the Ironborns are only to be obtained by paying the iron price, so by being captured during a raid. They are not identified as slaves, since they can't be sold and they may not be obtained by paying the 'gold price'.

Thralls are used for farming and mining because these activities aren't considered as suitable for free men according to the Old Way. Some valued thralls can eventually become stewards, tutors, scribes, or even craftsmen. But others would be sacrificed to the Drowned God by slitting their throats and giving their bodies to the sea.

Essentially, it's a mild form of slavery that's gotten its own status to dissociate itself from any inhuman aspect. But it did not spread too much, because few are those in favor of this practice.

The problem is that some houses on the Iron Islands were favored more than others when distributing thralls after a raid. This ended up creating a disparity in the distribution of labor between these houses. And the jealousy of some heavily disadvantaged houses has provoked the emergence of an illegal traffic of people, falsely declared as thralls to other lords. This is where the traffickers come in, providing fake thralls at a high prices… also being the price of their silence, as it is condemned by the Old Way.

If such a man has access to the islands again, it means that Balon has already destroyed many of his father's reforms. It would thus be, among other things, the return of the thralls there. This could be the fate of the people of Lannisport, should our defensive measures fail to repel them.

The merchant himself seemed to be rather stupid and incredibly venal. He was reportedly scammed by dozens of other merchants. So his intellect was too limited to doubt the meticulously crafted arguments of my killer.

Once there, she managed to send me a letter confirming her survival and successful infiltration. Then one letter per month followed her arrival, where I was able to learn more about the progress of the Greyjoys preparations.

After six letters, a lot of news eventually reached me. Under Balon's directives, the Ironborns are said to have gradually multiplied their number of longships over the past four to five years. Among the new ones, some would even be of increased size and made of better materials.

She also explained to me that Balon has traveled a lot, to gather the support of all the houses in his territory. Some did not follow the Old Way as much as he did, more influenced by Quellon's reforms. But in her last letter, she explained that lord Greyjoy had finally received the allegiance of ALL these houses.

In the end, his Iron Fleet became bigger, stronger, and made of a strong common front with every Ironmen's houses united under the squid's banner.

When I received this last piece of news, I hastened to share its contents with my father, explaining to him my initiative and what resulted from it. Following this, Tywin directly contacted every house in the Westerlands as well as house Hightower.

It was ordered that each house possessing a fleet would form a small group of ships to patrol the coast. In response, Leyton Hightower has for his part agreed to mobilize a dozen of warships to Lannisport. Since then, those ships were constantly patrolling the surroundings of the harbor.

In the event of a surprise attack, a contingency plan has been drawn up by my father. Now, every house has very specific instructions for this scenario. As they say, all the pieces of the puzzle are in place.

Unfortunately, I no longer received the monthly letters from the Iron Islands. My killer was most likely discovered, one way or another. Mayhaps while writing a letter and thus, she paid the price for it. Finding myself with four killers made me think that I should recruit more people for this position. But less officially this time.

Tywin also sent a letter to Kings Landing, asking Robert Baratheon for his help against a potential attack from the Ironborns. But the situation being too murky and uncertain, the only answer he got was that the king was going to send a letter as a warning to Balon Greyjoy. I mean… A warning, really ? As if that would stop a man of Balon's caliber and temperament.

It was surely not a decision made by Robert himself, given his great love of war and his musclehead tendencies. One or several members of the Small Council must want to avoid any conflict, giving the benefit of the doubt to the Greyjoys. Knowing how they were able to convince the king is another matter. Needless to say, this half-measure reaction pissed off my father for days on end.

For my part, it gave me a renewed bad feeling. If the squids are about to attack us, it must be because they are sure that we are weakened by the war. A warning letter would only serve to make lord Greyjoy understand that his intentions have been leaked. If he's at least somewhat smart, that should make him adapt his plans according to it.

I fear that having lost the element of surprise, he will increase his fleet destined for Lannisport. As a result, what could have been a simple large-scale surprise raid could now become a better-prepared attack with more enemy ships. In short, it's a f*cking mess that made me insult life for a few nights.

Well… I'm only thinking about the war. But other than that, good things happened.

Tyrion and Lynesse had their respective coming of age. For my brother, I had a golden replica of a dragon's egg forged. Even if he grew up, I wanted to make a wink at his former passion. And my efforts paid off. Tyrion loved the egg very much and placed it in his room.

For Lynesse, I had a golden bracelet made on which two lions are on each side of a tower with a paw resting on it. It is the very symbol of our union, which pleased her a lot. But that wasn't all I had prepared for her.

So that we could play an instrument together, I started looking for what was available for Lynesse in Westeros. I found that there were horns, reed pipes, trumpets, skins, drums, flutes, harps, lutes, cellos, and fiddles at hand. I hesitated between offering her a lute, a cello, or a flute. But I settled with a cello, having always loved the sounds it makes. Just as she had done, I thus gave her a second gift in the form of a silver-edged cello.

Since then, I have been learning the harp at the same time as she is learning her instrument. We promised each other that we would exchange them when we had each mastered ours. And I must say that we got along even better since we started to learn it together. It's the magic of music, I guess.

When we have enough mastery, I intend to learn the Rains of Castamere first. It can be quite a morbid notion for some, but this song has probably become my favorite one. After that, maybe some otherworldly music that I still remember. It's been a long time since I started to forget parts of this past life of mine, but my maniac side concerning music prevents me from forgetting most of those I listened to. And my tastes could have been considered weird for my age. I didn't like rap at all, preferring the songs of old… with more grace and refinement. But I only plan to play the melodies, as more than half of the lyrics just don't fit this world.

Regarding my brother, Tysha was constantly in his thoughts. He became calmer and eagerly immersed himself in his studies. Not seeing him go to brothels like his tv show version, I figured that the reason was simply his increased maturity.

But he started drinking regularly and after some questions, I saw the truth in his lies. He misses her greatly, but he also knows that she is safe in Braavos. When he came of age, I told him that I would help him go there in a year or two, when he would be mature and ready enough. Although he first seemed hesitant for some reason, Tyrion eventually accepted my help with a great deal of gratitude.

Now I'm in my dad's quarters, talking with him about possible changes to our defense plans. But as we are reviewing our strategies, someone hastily knocks at the door. This makes my father's head turn towards it.

''You may come in !''

The captain of the guards of the Rock Vylarr then arrives all sweaty in front of us, accompanied on the side by Roland.

''It's the towers ! Some of them are lit, my lord.''

My father's eyes squint and he strengthens his position on his seat. We both expected it, the question was to know when this would happen. Looks like we now have an answer. They are on their way.

''So he finally made his move… Which ones were lit first ?''

''It came from the coast leading to Feastfires, my lord. But…''

''But what ? Speak clearly.''

''Smoke is visible in the distance at the same time, without covering the entire coast leading to Kayce and Feastfires. It seems to be coming from east of Fair Isle, possibly from the towers of Crag or even Banefort. That would mean that...''

But my father does not let him finish his sentence, coming himself to the point.

''Multiple attacks. A part of them plans to attack our northern territories, most certainly. Those passing through the west should be targetting Lannisport.''

After a short time of reflection, I give my opinion on the situation.

''They should either be passing by the north of Fair Isles, or by the passage between it and Kayce. If it's the latter, then we don't have much time for extensive preparations.''

My father nods his head briefly without turning around, before answering.

''Then we must assume the worst case to be happening and hurry to Lannisport. What about the sea guards ? Did they send any report about the Iron Fleet ?''

''No, my lord. We have yet to receive news from them. The number of ships incoming and their commanders is unknown. At present, only their imminent arrival is certain.''

''Hmmm… Very well. We don't have any time to waste while waiting for their reports. Neither have we the time to wait for inland reinforcements. So I want you to immediately gather all forces of Casterly Rock. We are marching on Lannisport. Now.''

''Yes, my lord. This shall be done shortly.''

As Vylarr leaves, I motion for Roland to do the same with his unit. From experience, I know that my father hasn't finished talking to me.

''Leonard. You are to defend the port by my side, but your involvement will remain limited. You will have to do as I command, and under no circumstances do I want to see you rush headlong into danger for some glory. Do I make myself clear ?''

''Yes, father. Clear as the Sunset Sea. But rest assured, this has never been my intent to be reckless. Fools are the first to die.''

''Good. As long as you know it… A part of the Red Cloaks will join the formation of your men, for you to have a satisfactory number of soldiers. Now go to your mount, we don't have all day.''

''Yes, father.''

Let's hurry to Lannisport.

Before leaving, Tywin had maester Creylen send letters to the houses of the Westerlands, as well as Kings Landing and Oldtown. They will soon be notified of the attack on Lannisport and our northern coast.

After going to reassure and kiss Lynesse, I quickly put on my armor. Once it's done, I rush to the stable. When I'm there, I mount my stallion, Hermes, on its stunning saddle. And after waiting for all the troops of Casterly Rock to be ready to leave, my father orders everyone to move forward.

On the way, Roland stays by my side. Although he's a talented fighter, the reason that he's still leading my group of guards is that he has the most strategic mind of them all.

If I was only interested in strength, then Aegys would now be the perfect candidate. Their balance of power has changed ever since Aegys put his past aside. The two of them are not stupid, they know very well that the place is played out between them. Their rivalry is therefore perpetual but controlled.

Sean has improved, but I'm only using him to stoke the competitive spirit of the other two as well as give hope to the rest of the men. His extraordinary luck does not serve him in every confrontation, which diminished his prestige within the group. But his importance might change in the future because he learns rather quickly. With each beating and defeat, he corrects his mistakes and gets tougher and tougher.

My eyes then rest on the harbor and its surroundings, seeing the restlessness of the Lannister troops from afar.

''Looks like the contingency plan is in motion. The ships which patrolled the nearby waters are coming back. Some are already in position, all around Lannisport.''

Roland is looking at the Leon towers, whose smoke is visible from every end of the horizon.

''Aye, my lord. The towers have done their job wonderfully. By now, every port should be aware of the attacks.''

I nod my head at his words. The Westerlands warships won't all be on their way, though. Lannisport is not the only city in danger. I don't have any hope for the ships of Wyndhall, Banefort, or Crag to come here. On the other hand, the forces of Crakehall should be on their way. With some chances, it could also be the case for Kayce, Feastfires, and Faircastle.

''Yes. As things stand, they don't have the surprise effect. However, it is far from being the only important factor. As you may have guessed, I'm afraid that the scale of their attack is going to be too great for our fleet.''

Roland seems to look worried for a moment, before taking a more relaxed pose on his brown horse.

''Sounds about right. But fear not my lord, for they will taste their own iron price. They will gently sink to join their false god, with our swords deep in their asses !''

Thinking back to his words, he then realizes the ambiguous aspect of his last sentence. Without wasting time, Roland corrects himself as quickly as possible.

''*cough* Only literally, of course. My sword swings one way, not the other. But to change the subject... I'm still saddened that you haven't named our unit yet, my lord. I know that we're more of a huddle of guards than anything else, but the men are jealous of the Red Cloaks. Not that they want to be called cloaks, mind you…''

This topic again, huh ? They are barely eight hundred, it's not like I've formed a real army. I don't see what's wrong with thinking of them as guards. Maybe they're lacking some pride ?

''I'll think about it, but that will have to wait until the end of the conflict. Most of them still don't know what it's like to kill anyway. It's time for them to prove themselves, and that they are worthy of having a name of their own. Don't you think so ?''

Roland seems to directly accept my verdict. He doesn't have much to prove, unlike the rest of the men.

''Aye, my lord. I understand. Naming a bunch of cats after a lion isn't going to make them grow sharper teeth.''

''Right… Now let's focus on the path ahead of us. We will be arriving soon.''

When we arrive at Lannisport, we hear the bell ringing and the orders given by shouting. The atmosphere is quite heavy, but I wouldn't describe it as a state of despair. There are many guards on the move in the streets, at the docks, and on the city wall. Everyone is deathly serious and on guard, waiting for the incoming Iron Fleet.

The crowds of people and the laughter disappeared, leaving the streets almost empty except for the armed forces of Lannisport. The few remaining smallfolks look agitated but refrain from panicking. They are all hurrying to go home, and start to barricade their front doors.

Two important men are giving a series of orders previously delegated to them by my father. They are Rechar Lannister and Damon Lannister, the two most influential members of the secondary family branches. Alongside them are members of other houses of distant Lannister blood, such as the Lannys, Lannetts, and Lantells. In a vulgar summary, there is a bunch of yellow-haired dudes waiting for our arrival.

When they see us here, Rechar and Damon rush over to Tywin. After paying their respect to their lord, my father addresses himself to them with the utmost calm.

''You followed the instructions in detail, I assume. I was specific enough to avoid any form of incompetence on your part. So ?''

Although Rechar seems rather intimidated, he directly gives a summary of the situation to my father.

''Aye, my lord. Most of the archers are stationed on the side of the city wall which faces the sea. Every man is in position or just finished preparing themselves. By now, nearly every warship has left the harbor and joined the maritime defense formation outside of the port. Unfortunately, three of them have recently been damaged and must remain docked. Regarding the Lannisport warships deployed on the coasts, five of them are missing. They were deployed both in the south and in the north, I believe. As for the trading ships, they have been evacuated and sent to Crakehall.''

Tywin is completely ignoring Rechar's slightly fearful state and continues to speak calmly, with that same air of authority that he inspires in everyone.

''I see. Is there any news from the sea guards ?''

It's Damon's turn to step forward, speaking immediately.

''Aye, I was receiving their reports just now. The incoming fleet is larger than we previously thought. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to represent the entire Iron Fleet. Even still, we are largely outnumbered. Lord Greyjoy's three brothers are believed to be part of the incoming fleet. According to what we know of them, Victarion and Euron should be the ones leading them, with Aeron by their side.''

My father nods, without showing his dissatisfaction to see the numerical superiority of the enemy warships.

''Then it is settled. You all can go back to your formations. The docks and the wall must remain fully occupied by our forces. Even if they manage to get here, I don't want a single establishment to be touched by these filthy squids.''

''Yes, my lord.''

''My lord, on the horizon ! The Iron Fleet is incoming !''

''So be it. I want Gerion, Vylarr, ser Cerval, and ser Benedict to come with me to the docks. Kevan, I want you to stay with Leonard on the safest side of the wall. If they manage to reach the harbor, you can reposition yourselves at the part of the docks closest to the wall. Now to your positions, and faster than that.''

While I may be pretty good with a sword, my father knows that I can shine far more with my longbow. Although he didn't mind sending me right into clashes with bandits when I was younger, Tywin seems adamant about keeping me out of critical spots during a confrontation of this size.

And I get it. As of now, I don't have any child and my death would mean either my father accepting Tyrion as his heir, finding the magic formula to separate Jaime from Cersei, or leaving the succession to Tyrek altogether. These options are either impossible or unacceptable to him.

If my men didn't have a minimum of archery training, I would not have been sent to the city wall. Even if I treated this as a secondary focus, an emphasis was placed on their bow ability after they had reached a satisfactory level of swordsmanship. That way, they became quite versatile. Part of the aims as well as a bunch of Stormtroopers, though. Some true intergalactic lost causes, I got there…

We all salute Tywin before heading off to our respective positions.

''As you wish, father.''

''Aye, my lord.''

''I shall not disappoint you, my lord.''

''As you command, brother.''

After moving towards our position, I give a few last orders before remaining on standby. With the enemy still out of reach, all we can do now is to wait for them. And if they can't even get passed our maritime formation, then it's just going to be a nice show to watch. But I wouldn't count on it.

As I'm deep in thought, I feel a hand rest on my right shoulder. I then turn my head to meet my uncle's gaze.

''Stay strong, Leonard. The morale of your men also depends on yours. Even if they have to follow your orders, they also naturally follow your example. You are their leader, just like it will one day fall upon you to lead the Westerlands. And don't worry too much, we are as ready as it is possible to be.''

I smile slightly, appreciating his words of encouragement. Kevan is the kind of man you can rely on in every situation. Wise, strong, and loyal. It is no wonder that my father always placed a lot of trust in him. He also has my trust, without a doubt.

''You're right, uncle. Thank you. Let's just wait and see, then.''

As the two fleets close in on each other, the Ironborns blow their horns, and their strong echoes reach us. A swarm of battle cries are then heard in the distance but remain barely audible to us.

Then I hear Roland mutter incomprehensible sentences, while nervously gripping his horn with his left hand. But I manage to hear his last sentence.

''The f*ckers have blown their horns… The f*ckers have blown their horns…''

After wondering if he has some kind of weird horn fetish, I give him the green light.

''Use your horn too, Roland. We must warn them that we too are ready to fight. Give it all you got.''

He looks surprised but goes directly back to a correct posture and nods with gratitude and seriousness.

Roland then grabs his horn and places it up to his mouth. After having prepared his breath for a long time, he blows into it with an impressive fury. A shrill sound then comes out, causing all the soldiers around to cover their ears in pain.

After a minute, it finally stops and everyone can rest their eardrums… With such a noise, I wouldn't be surprised if its echoes were heard at least midway to Feastfires. I don't know how he does that, but Roland must have some serious lung capacities to pull that out.

Once he has put his horn back on his belt, Roland does not fail to leave his little comment of satisfaction.

''Aaaaah… feels good to be alive. Ain't it, my lord ?''

Getting all philosophical now, are we ? Well, I presume that all men kinda do this before a bloody fight.

''Aye. It sure does, Roland. It sure does...''

Making plans and schemes has become my daily life, which gives me a tendency to forget all the deaths related to it. Killing seems more and more apathetic to me, since the kid in the hills. In a way, the recurrence of it all also had to make me get used to it.

But to see my men dying ? There's nothing nice about it. I would rather see them swimming in the blood of our foes, if possible.

On the other hand, sacrifices are always necessary and inevitable in times of war. Therefore, worrying about it too much is just useless and complicates everything. In the end, they die while serving their just purpose. Even still, the survivors ought to be at least grateful for the death of their brothers in arms who die at their side.

I could be the one dying today, or maybe Roland, Kevan, or any other man here. So for a short moment, I'm thinking about Roland's words and trying to appreciate the simple fact of being alive. And it feels good in a sense, it truly does.

''And now we ought to keep that life of ours. Understood, soldier ?''

''Aye, my lord. I plan to die of old age by your side. Only after having slapped a couple of cheeks, of course.''

The best part of this is that it wasn't even a lie, from what I felt. What a pure guy… I somewhat smile at his remark, and I can even see Kevan smirking next to us.

''Sounds like a mighty fine plan, you got there. Don't change, Roland.''

''Never, my lord.''

After our small talk, I focus on the Sunset Sea again, seeing that hostilities are about to start. The two sides begin to get dangerously close to each other. Since the enemy fleet is already closed, I manage more or less to analyze it. It allows me to compare our strengths, to see who has the real advantage.

In terms of the number of warships, I would say that we have a little less than fifty on our side. Amongst them, a good dozen are from Oldtown. By my humble estimation, I would say that between ninety and one hundred and thirty warships face our forces. That's a wild guess though, as it isn't so simple to count them from afar.

But still, damn it… that's a seven be damned lot. Had they not received words of our suspicions, they might have been far fewer to come here.

At first glance, one would think that we are totally lost with almost a ratio of one against three. But in reality, our formations and even our boats themselves are fundamentally different.

While our warships are galleys, for the most part, our enemies have a fleet purely made up of longships. The galleys are made to stay in coastal waters and have additional sails to replace the effort of the rowers. Having additional oars, galleys are strong enough to become very effective ramming weapons. Being made for war and trade, their ambivalence has made them very popular in Westeros. The most famous fleets of galleys would be those of the royal fleet and the one of house Hightower.

On the other side, longships are faster, longer, and lighter. They facilitate navigation in shallow waters and permit easier beach landings. This makes them ideal for raids. But for naval battles ? Less so. Then again, their boats have been notably improved. So I'm hesitant to say that it gives us a real advantage. The quality of their warships might even exceed ours.

In terms of naval formations… the Ironborns barely have any. It seems that Balon took more time to take care of his boats than the strategic mind of his men. It can only be described as an incomprehensible cluster of warships, mainly following two ships leading them.

On our side, the warships have been divided into three groups. The first two are forming an arrow formation, while the third closely follows them in a symmetrical line.

But above all, our men are more than qualified and include quite a few talented archers on board. Ironborns have much more melee logic to them. So there are advantages on both sides.

As all these thoughts go through my head, I see the first ships ramming into each other. Arrows are being fired in all directions. A few men are riddled with arrows and die, but most of the arrows miss their target and fall into the sea or against the hull of the enemy's ships.

After a few collisions, the first cluster of warships forms. Galleys ramming longships are then rammed by other longships in their turn. As cries are echoing from there, the first ships begin to sink slowly. One or two of them are literally sliced ​​in half by the force of ramming.

As several ships are immobilized next to each other, some men are boarding their foes. Where the Ironborns have managed to infiltrate our warships, the archers are being decimated by their axes and fury. But the crew members with swords then face them and begin long bloody fights.

This large and chaotic cluster of ships stays that way for a while, which feels like an eternity here. On our side, we can only wait and watch things as they unfold before our eyes.

After a while, all of our warships end up being occupied. Meanwhile, the Greyjoy longships take advantage of their numerical superiority to pass to the side and head straight for us. At first, it's only two or three ships. But then it quickly changes to dozens of those.

With sails abhorring yellow squids on black backgrounds, their ships then pick up speed to rush towards Lannisport. Their longships go at full speed, breaking the waves and making the wind whistle as they pass.

Considering they're attacking in multiple places at once, surely the attack on Lannisport is necessary for them to prevent us from coming to the aid of the rest of the coast. Destroying our fleet and sacking the city would also send a message about their power to the rest of Westeros. Maybe that's why they came despite having lost the element of surprise.

In the end, it's unlikely that they would be able to defeat us on the docks. All the forces of Lannisport and Casterly Rock are present. Our men easily outnumber theirs, and our armors are more qualitative. So the moment they leave their boats, the squids would lose their advantages. I wonder what they will choose to do.

When barely more than a hundred meters separate them from the city wall, all the archers begin to prepare to shoot their arrows at the key moment.

''They are soon going to be within reach.''

Roland looks at the incoming ships seriously, readying himself to use his bow.

''Aye, it's getting started.''

At the start of the fight, I give the symbolic commands for the first shot.

''Nock ! Draw ! Loose !''

Each archer then shoots an arrow at the boats approaching us. Unfortunately, very few of these arrows hit their targets. Our archers are far from the best in Westeros and the range is still a bit too far for most of them. It's hard to be sure, but I think that my arrow did kill one of our foes.

To the side, I see Aegys frowning, surely frustrated that he totally missed his target. Well, you can't be good at everything...

Adrian Swyft seems to be quite proud of himself, having shot his arrow extremely well. I understand why he rises quite quickly in the ranks of the Rock archers. I will continue to keep an eye on my dear friend in the future. He could be useful to some of my plans.

The longships continue to approach and enter an acceptable shooting distance for our archers. It's time to give it all we got.

''SHOOT AT WILL !''

Everyone does their best to aim, trying to be as fast and accurate as possible. If barely three or four arrows shot were a success before, nearly one in ten hits our enemies now.

I'm trying to do a 'one shot, one kill' series, but it's not always possible. It works half the time, in my case.

The Ironborns are wearing breastplates covered in leather, incised with the design of different coats. Some arbor a Kraken, a sickle, a horn, a fish, and many others. Their armor being heavier than for most sailors, shooting at them doesn't always bring any results. Their breastplates block some of our arrows.

''Aaaaaaaah !''

Some of them perish and let us hear their cries, sometimes before falling overboard and drowning in the sea.

They then pick up more speed to approach the harbor as soon as possible. They certainly want it to be fast and limit the damage on their end. From now on, we'll be much more useful at the docks. So I turn to the men, to give the following orders.

''MEN ! TO THE DOCKS !''

Having known the orders beforehand, everyone hurried in an orderly fashion down the steps to leave the city wall.

We manage to reach the docks, on the side indicated to us by Tywin. And we shoot a few more arrows while waiting for the Ironborns to come into port.

I then see half a dozen longships turn around abruptly, in a way that only this type of warship is capable of performing. In the middle of their maneuver, they seize a couple of torches before throwing them at the three ships under repair that had remained docked. Immediately after, these three ships catch fire and are charred in an intense inferno.

The ships at the origin of this fire then join the rear of the formation, alongside a warship that has remained behind.

The other dozens of longships then arrive at the docks from all sides. Three of them find themselves facing my group. As we get into a defensive position, the Ironborns come out of their ships and scream before charging toward us.

''Death to the Greenlanders !''

''For the drowned god !''

''WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIIIIIIIIIE !''

''WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!''

As some of them rush in my direction, I whisper a prayer to the seven.

''Warrior, May you heed my call and bless me with the strength I need to slay my foes. May the Father help us to bestow his justice upon them.''

Even if they don't know me, my armor and Kevan's easily tell them how important we are within the Westerlands. Those seeking glory and fame will always rush to us first.

Once all the guards at my side are occupied, one of our foes rushes toward me without hesitation. He keeps his arm outstretched, with his sword brandished aloft. Leaving me so many openings to strick him will be his last mistake on earth.

I sense some danger coming from his sword, but it doesn't change anything special. This blow is more than predictable. Before I even need to dodge it, I deliver a clean sword slash to his unprotected throat. The blade then jams in the middle of his throat, spurting blood from his carotid artery all over the place.

To my 'greatest delight', the blood splashes over my face and partly blurs my vision. Annoyed by this, I kick him hard in the stomach and take advantage of his backward movement to pull my sword out of his flesh.

Feeling nothing special at his death, it now reassures me far more than it could ever worry me. This kind of mental state is much more practical in the middle of a battlefield.

Having barely the time to get back into position, I already feel someone approaching me from behind. Trying to kill me from behind like a coward, huh ? Unfortunately for him, that sort of thing doesn't work with me.

As I turn around, he starts screaming into my eardrums. As if there wasn't enough noise already.

''What is dead may never die !''

By the seven, these vermin really like their stupid expressions. Very well, I'm going to help this bugger to get his wish.

''Then die and join your freak of a god, you stupid bastard !''

Having his legs devoid of any metallic protection, I bend down quickly and cut his thigh while putting all my strength into it to go through both his leather and flesh.

''AAAAAaaaaaaah !''

The deep cut causes him to fall to his knees in shock and I take the opportunity to plunge my sword from behind, in retaliation for what he had attempted to accomplish earlier. He then falls headfirst to the ground, his blood flowing on the cobblestones of Lannisport.

After that, two Ironborns approach me at the same time, but Roland and Aegys get in their way before they could reach me. After a few sword strokes, they manage to kill them. Roland then spits on the corpse of the one that he has defeated.

''I have more respect for the man I cuckolded than for you bunch of brain dead barbarians. May the Stranger take you away from that drowned god of yours !''

The battle continues for a few hours until the foes in our part of the port are all dead. Some of our men fell, but we held on. And the Ironborns failed to touch any establishment in Lannisport. It's already a victory in itself.

After reaching the edge of the docks, I look at the surroundings to examine the situation. Some fights are still taking place on the other side of the harbor, but are about to take an end. The half dozen ships that stayed behind are leaving the port, soon passing near the city wall. In the distance, our fleet has been greatly reduced. Only a dozen of ships are left, still facing threefold as many warships.

An idea then crosses my mind. What if one of the commanders was part of the group leaving the port right now ? If so, I have to take my chance. Without wasting a second, I start running as quickly as possible to the city wall. As I pass Kevan, I hear his loud inquisitive voice.

''It's over, Leonard ! Where are you going ?''

I answer him without looking back, continuing to run in the same direction.

''Just trying my luck !''

When I finally reach the edge of the wall, I am slightly exhausted. But there is no time to rest. I take my longbow and aim towards the longship leading the group of fleeing boats. Being still rather close, I'm able to somewhat see those aboard from afar. I am hoping to see Euron or Victarion while aiming.

At the front of this longship, I then see who I recognize as a young version of Euron Greyjoy.

Killing him would send a strong message about how weak the Ironborns are while facing us. It's not like I need him for my plans in the future. As a matter of fact, his existence would be more problematic than anything else. In the tv show, he only sided with Cersei to be the new king of Westeros. But he won't have such an opportunity this time around.

While I'm about to target his head, I notice that he's gesturing to the south and the west. Having no time to look at what it is all about, I'm preparing myself to lose the arrow after taking a long breath and closing my eyes. My arrow is aligned with my target, I just have to give the optimal impulse and stay calm.

I finally loose the arrow and let it whistle in the wind while going straight to its target. A moment later, Euron turns to look at Lannisport and takes the arrow in the middle of his right eye. The arrow seems to go deep into his head and he falls to the ground. What follows is a cacophony of screams that make me smile broadly.

''Headshot, motherf*cker.''

I am the man who killed Euron Greyjoy… I'll be sure to boast about it.

After a brief moment of jubilation, my eyes turn to the Sunset Sea. And I see that the reinforcements have arrived. Finally !

There are four small formations incoming, seemingly being from Crakehall, Firefeasts, Kayce, and Faircastle. Fortunately, there are more of them than expected.

The entire fleet of five galleys of Crakehall is rushing straight towards the fleeing ships. By their side, two Lannisport ships which were patrolling in the south are accompanying them.

At the same time, a dozen ships sporting the colors of house Farman are coming to aid the Lannisport Fleet. They are followed closely by four ships from house Prester and three ships from house Kenning.

''So they came… Seven bless them. Our fleet should have a chance now.''

I sit on the ground, watching the battle raging in the Sunset Sea as I can finally rest.

Seeing the reinforcements arrive, a dozen enemy ships narrowly escape. It should be Victarion and Aeron. Things didn't go as they planned and they set off with their tails between their legs, leaving the rest of their fleet behind. Talk about having no balls…

The rest are taken by surprise, and cannot adjust to the new arrivals. After a last half hour of fierce fighting, another couple of longships manage to flee while the rest is pulverized.

The battle is over.

Allied shouts of joy are heard in the distance, followed by more shouts of victory from the harbor. As for me, I simply close my eyes to soak up the moment. The feeling I get from this victory is simply divine. I thank the seven who protected and supported me, on this day of uncertainty. May the god of seven continue to grace me with his light in the future.

After a few moments, Roland arrives at my side.

''We won, my lord !''

Seeing him all excited to announce it, I shake my head before laughing lightly.

''Haha… As if I didn't see or hear anything. I know, Roland. We won, you're damn right. Anyway, how many casualties amongst our group ?''

''Nothing much, only a handful died amongst the least promising men of our ranks. Many others are injured, though. Sean will have a nasty scar on the chin and Aegys is whining from a small scratch on his girlish face. He thinks he's lost his fatal beauty or some other bullsh*t. His Valyrian mind is beyond my understanding.''

Hmmm… I expected this result. As for Aegys, nothing new about it. Sigh, the three of them are talented but always kinda quirky.

''I see. That's good. Let's join the others, then.''

We spent the rest of the day sending the wounded out for treatment and reviewing the results of the battle. Our fleet was heavily reduced, unfortunately. But most of the enemy longships that docked at Lannisport are intact. Of course, we are going to add these to our fleet. And after including them in the calculation, we barely lost one or two warships.

In the following days, letters arrived from Banefort, Crag, Wyndhall, Seagard, Kings Landing, Oldtown, and the Iron Islands. I was busy when the letters arrived. But maester Creylen explained their content to me afterward.

Crag was raided and their fleet burned down. It's the same for Wyndhall. Banefort also lost most of its fleet, but they held on against the Ironborns and then repelled them before any additional damage could be done.

Needless to say, they sacked, killed, r*ped, and burned everything they could. As a result of these raids, many people were taken as thralls by the Ironborns. Repairing the damage caused by the Ironborn would surely prove to be costly. But this is a problem that will have to be solved later. The conflict isn't over and must take our full attention.

In the Riverlands, Seagard would have won against the Iron Fleet. The battle is described as another crushing defeat for the Iron Islands. Lord Jason Mallister apparently slew Rodrik Greyjoy, Balon's heir. It destroyed the morale of the raiders and the Mallister drove them back into the Sunset Sea. The Riverlands are thus intact, with not a single successful raid on their soils.

In response to the attacks that took place in the recent days, Robert Baratheon has called for the bannermen to be assembled. He seems determined to show that the kingdoms are united under his reign. A maritime counter-attack is being discussed between the various large fleets of Westeros. To this day, the details and strategy are still uncertain. But I already know that the Royal Fleet, Redwyne Fleet, and Hightower Fleet will be participating.

Lord Leyton Hightower seems determined to send his entire fleet for the next attack. Even though the Ironborns would never have been able to conquer Casterly Rock, the notion of his daughter being in danger must have pissed him off. The loss of several of his galleys in the attack on Lannisport must have also enraged him, I imagine. Either way, it's nice to see him respecting our recently strengthened ties.

And as for the letter from Pyke, oh boy... It shows lord Balon Greyjoy's arrogance and delusion of grandeur.

[ To the Usurper and other Greenlanders,

I, Balon Greyjoy, the ninth of my name since the Grey King, lord Reaper of Pyke, hereby declare myself as king of the Iron Islands, king of Salt and Rock, as well as Son of the Sea Wind. Beneath Nagga's ribs on the holy isle of Old Wyk, Tarle the Thrice-Drowned himself placed the driftwood crown upon me. In the eyes of god, I am thereby the rightful ruler and king of the Iron Islands.

On this faithful day, I proclaim the permanent return of the Old Way. The hold of the Greenlanders upon our lands and ways now belongs to the past. I shall make the Iron Islands great again. We will continue to raid the western coast as it is our right to do so, for I will pay my crown as Urron Redhand did five thousand years ago, with the iron price. The sea shall be my moat, and woe to any man who dares to cross it. This is a promise made to He Who Dwells Beneath The Waves, the Lord God who drowned for us. What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger.

For the drowned god,

King Balon Greyjoy IX, ]

Big words for a loser.

This 'Greyjoy rebellion' has lost any trace of glory to it. Both of their biggest offensives ended in complete failure, with the death of Euron and Rodrik.

Naming himself a king ? In light of what transpired, this is all sheer madness on Balon's part. His excessive dreams drowned before they even started.

You want independence and continue to raid our shores ? We will see about that.

You foolishly rushed into the lion's jaw. And you should know that what goes around comes around. A great price shall be paid for what happened. At the end of this debacle, I will make sure that house Lannister can receive proper compensation.

A Lannister always pays his debts.

avataravatar
Next chapter