Chapter 32: The Pyres of Lannisport (Vickon Greyjoy, Vaemond)

11th Moon, 8025

City of Lannisport, the Westerlands

.

.

The Lord of Pyke sat upon his destrier and watched the Iron Kraken collide once more with the heavy gates of Lannisport, the men pushing the battering ram forward under constant fire from crossbows, stones, and boiling oil.

Vickon Greyjoy watched as one his Ironborn in the breaching party was taken by flames, wildly waving his arms and screaming, steam coming from his head as the black tar set fire to his fur armor.

The red priestess, mounted by his side, uttered some words under her breath quietly, watching the burning man slowly go still, her crimson robes blowing in the wind.

''What was that….some sort of spell?'' Vickon grunted at the priestess of R'hllor.

''No my lord, only a prayer….that man should consider himself fortunate….not every soul is blessed with the purifying flames of death..'' She replied.

Vickon nodded as he continued to watch the breaching party pound on the heavy gates of the city. Some years prior he had taken her captive from a Lysene galley in the Shivering Sea, her red robes and pale gray eyes making her stand out among the prisoners.

Vickon had been prepared to throw her overboard with the other survivors to appease his men's wish to sacrifice to the Drowned God, he had no use for fanatics, but as she had been led to the side of the ship, she had scratched and clawed, begged and demanded an audience with the captain.

The Lord of Pyke, intrigued, had allowed them to bring her to his cabin as the other unfortunate survivors were tossed overboard. As he expected, she bargained for her life with her flesh, which the Ironborn captain had no qualms about, he could always throw her overboard after they were done.

Instead, she insisted that she be given a chance to show her power, and stubbornly persisted that Vickon set the captured galley alight in the middle of the sea. Vickon had laughed at that, but after more showcasing of her other more base skills, he had finally relented, though not without a warning that if he was not impressed that she would join her former companions at the bottom of the sea.

Vickon had given the order for the ship to be set aflame, not expecting much to come of the whole affair, but he had been wrong. He had seen shapes in the flame, dancing from bridge to mast, images within the tendrils.

He saw his youngest son in the flames, Germund, fighting an unseen enemy before falling to the ground, his lifesblood leaving him. He saw a host of Ironborn attacking a city of Gold, a lion banner burning in the flames, and finally he had glimpsed himself, kneeling as a man placed a crown upon his head.

He had been intrigued of course, but had warned the priestess that if this was some sort of trick he would punish her most painfully.

But when he arrived back in Pyke months later, he received word that his youngest son Germund had been slain in a skirmish, fighting as a mercenary in the many feuds and wars that frequently assailed the islands.

.

.

Over the next few years, he gradually put more stock into the Red Priestesses counsel, though at her own behest their intimate encounters stopped, she was a red priestess after all, not a common salt wife.

Eventually Vickon had allowed her to anoint him in the name of R'hllor, he made no attempt to convert his other followers, who, while understandably perturbed and angry of their lieges conversion eventually accepted it, though there had been some trouble with the Blacktydes, who had to be convinced through the ax. Vickon was further helped by the fact that from time to time, he was known to still sacrifice the odd prisoner to the Drowned god, though whether the priestess knew or didn't know of this deception she kept hidden.

Another resounding thud came from the Iron Kraken ram as it hit the heavy gates, this time shaking and pushing inwards slightly.

Vickon gave a smile, he would have preferred to be at the front with his men, but he had developed gout in his feet in his old age, though when the gates were opened he would join the assault on horseback, a most uncommon position for an Ironborn warrior but he meant to take advantage of every battle he had left.

''This is the city of gold I saw in the fires…..'' Vickon said, images of piles of golden coins and bars coursing through his mind.

''The Lord of Light does not lie my Lord…..he has given this victory to you as gift for your conversion…but just as our Lord gives, he also demands…he must be given a great sacrifice, you know of what I speak.'' The priestess said, her pale gray eyes studying him.

Vickon nodded ''Aye….he shall have his due, but it was the men of the Iron Islands that will win this victory…..and I still have not been given the crown I saw in the flames….the Lord of Light is running out of time.''

She touched his shoulder, clad in boiled leather and seal fur ''Patience….my King.''

He felt the heat from her fingers even through his armor and nodded.

.

.

Suddenly, the gates of Lannisport swung open with a final decisive crack from the battering ram, and the Ironborn began to swarm in.

Vickon pulled his ax from its belt, a magnificent weapon with a golden hilt with onyx runes, its axehead made of hardened silver, while one of his men handed him a heavy shield, freshly painted in black and gold.

He waved the ax over his head and spurred his horse forward to join the assault, his personal retinue, also mounted by necessity of their lieges speed followed him towards the breach.

The city of Lannisport was the second largest city in Westeros, behind only Oldtown, though the capital in Kings Landing was rapidly gaining on that claim. To take the city they would have two tasks, first the keep of Lanns Hall, situated within the city walls, and the seat of Lady Sarya of Lannisport would need to be stormed, the city streets would also need to be cleared of the guardsmen.

Vickon meant to leave the former task to Denys Drumm, the lord of Pyke would find himself of little use storming a castle with a gouty leg.

He would content himself to deal with the city watch of Lannisport who would no doubt be protecting the city streets. Even in the Iron Islands the city watch was known to be one of the most disciplined and effective foot levies in the Seven Kingdoms.

Vickons scouts reported the city watch was undermanned to less than half its original strength however, numbering less than a thousand men as many of them were used as common foot soldiers as the war grew more desperate for the Lannisters, while others had fled when nearby Casterly Rock was put under siege.

1000 𝘰𝘳 10,000 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 Vickon thought as he thundered through the breached gates of the city, riding over corpses of kin and foe alike. He saw that Denys Drumm had already set to scaling the small keep of Lanns Hall with wooden ladders and was making good progress.

Fighting was well underway in the city streets by the time Vickon and his retinue arrived, his Ironborn fighting the city watch of Lannisport, wearing their distinctive heavy boiled armor and red cloaks, small units of them forming shield walls and attempting to hold whatever strategic points they could, narrow streets, city circles, and even buildings, with a particularly fierce melee taking place in the cities tavern.

Vickon rode forward through the cobbled streets, making his way towards a melee in one of the town squares, where a unit of the city watch were holding a circle around a well, spears and shields desperately working to push the Ironborn back.

He saw an old man running with a few bolts of cloth through the streets, making for shelter, so desperate was he to make for shelter he did not notice Vickons ax flashing down at his spotted pink scalp, and soon he noticed even less.

Continuing on towards the fight, one of his retinue tumbled from the saddle, a Lannisport guardsman behind the circle putting a quarrel in the center of his head.

Vickon roared and collided with the shield wall in a clash of horse and shield.

Hacking and slashing his ax, he forced his way deep into the melee, his retinue and other Ironborn following him into the breach. A dismounted Ironborn axeman at his side shouted a war cry to the Drowned god, which was quickly silenced by a mace to the nose.

The maceman tried his luck with Vickon, but the old Ironborn patiently knocked away two strikes with his ax and another with his shield before 2 quick hacks to the man's neck ended the melee.

The small unit of city watchmen was quickly overwhelmed once their shield wall broke and quickly laid down their weapons, some being butchered by the more zealous Ironborn in their bloodlust while others were being forced to lead the Ironborn to gold and silver.

.

.

The city watch of Lannisport may have been efficient in dealing with drunken brawls and tavern riots, but undermanned as they were, they had no chance against the Ironborn assault, and after only two hours of fighting most of the city was theirs. While scattered fighting continued in some districts, the assault was beginning to transition to the looting phase as Vickon ordered his reavers to plunder the countless silver and gold shops, along with the jewlers, the Ironborn would no doubt gain a fortune from capturing such a large city.

Vickon looked up towards Lanns Hall, and saw that his men had gained the keep, and had set the Lannister banners alight, much like the vision he had seen in the flames.

The victory had been remarkably decisive, Vickon had expected to lose near 1000 men, but the reality was that the assault only cost them just over 400 men, much of the cities populace had fled the city when nearby Casterly Rock, which was visible from the city was placed under siege, and taken with them much wealth, but taking the second largest city in Westeros with the lost of 400 men was an admirable feat, and the spoils put those taken from Sunspear years earlier to shame.

While his men looted the vast city, Vickon and his captains drank and feasted in one of the taverns, the bodies of several dead watchmen and Ironborn still littering the floor.

.

.

Denys Drumm had taken a wound in storming Lanns Hall, but seemed hale enough to Vickon, quietly drinking with the best of them while Eerl Stonetree amused himself by playing at finger dancing with a few unfortunate captives, the practice of throwing an ax at an opponent who had to catch or dodge it, though Eerl thought it amusing to have his captives blindfolded, much to the merriment of the other Ironborn who shouted advice to the terrified captives.

A throwing ax took one of the captives in the forehead with a meaty thunk.

''Well I suppose he caught it….in a way.'' One of the reavers quipped earning a raucous response of laughter.

The mood in the room suddenly seemed to shift, and grow hotter as the tavern doors swung open.

.

.

Vickon turned and saw the red priestess striding inside, the other Ironborn gave disapproving glances, but she paid them no mind.

''It is almost sunset my lord….and just as the Lord of Light has given you and your men a great victory…you must reciprocate….it is time for the nightfire.'' The red priestess said.

''We don't serve your god woman…..its the Drowned God that gave us victory today, and to him we will sacrifice too.'' Eerl Stonetree drawled, pulling his ax from the dead captive.

''Perhaps you don't, but your Lord does.'' The Red Priestess said, her gray eyes trained calmly on the young Lord of Harlaw.

''The drowned god will have his due you can be sure of that Eerl, but you will mind your tongue in my priestess presence or i'll have it off.'' Vickon said, causing Eerl to spit on the ground but in the end he relented.

''There is but one god.'' The red priestess cautioned and Vickon waved a hand in acknowledgement.

He then turned to one of his Huscarls ''Bring the prisoners to the town square.''

He finished his drink in silence before he made his way to the town center, the daylight giving way to a sunset of red and gold over the Sunset Sea and the town of Lannisport, almost making the town peaceful, if one could ignore the dead bodies littering the street and the cries in the distance.

.

.

The assembly for the night fire was small, while Vickon had agreed to take the Red God as his own but his own people were not so eager to abandon their ways, nonetheless the Red Priestess had a small number of followers she could rely on.

The spectators to the nightfires were outnumbered by the almost 100 surviving members of the Lannisport City Watch, as well as a few dozen peasants mixed in for good measure. They were bound hand and foot to a large pyre of timber logs, wooden doors and whatever else the red woman's followers had found that would burn.

Vickon made his way to the red woman's side, upon seeing his approach she nodded greeting ''It is time my King.''

Vickon gave a curt nod and the priestess lit a torch with nothing but her hands, muttering a prayer as she ran her hand over it as the torch took flame, causing a whisper between the few Ironborn in attendance who had witnessed it.

''Lord of Light…..accept these offerings into your Kingdoms….they that have lived in darkness shall die in light….cleanse them lord.'' She chanted, her voice quiet and loud at the same time as she approached the pyre, red robe dancing in the wind.

Her followers echoed her chant.

Cries for mercy sounded from the Pyre, but Vickon ignored them, at the war's beginning he had landed near Lannisport, but Loren Lannister had driven him off, leaving some 6000 of Vickons Ironborn dead, captured or wounded, he meant to have his revenge today.

The screams from the pyre as the Red Woman set the flaming torch of the pyre were immediate and would chill the heart of even the most grizzled warrior, but the Lord of Pyke simply smiled as the red woman went on about light and darkness, his defeat at Lannisport was avenged.

Screams of fear soon turned to screams and coughs of pain, and even some of the most veteran Ironborn abandoned the ceremony to go and drink, but Vickon stayed for the entirety, listening as the screams of the burning men echoed into the orange skies of the Sunset Sea until they were at last drowned out by the waves.

While the burning of the City Watch would constitute the most renowned atrocity in Lannisport, the pillaging of Lannisport would go on for several more days before the Ironborn finally left the city with the wealth of the city with them. Maesters would be in agreement years later that the sacking of Lannisport would be the most brutal and savage event in the entire war.

.

.

1st Moon, 8026

Drox Castle

.

.

The two men knelt at Vaemonds feet, their swords lightly pushing down on the ground of the tent, Corlys Velaryon stood at the Kings side studying the young pair.

''Rise my friends.'' Vaemond said, gesturing them up.

The two complied, sheathing their swords and facing the King. They both were quite young, with it being clear none of them were older than Vaemonds 24 years, despite the similarity in age, they couldn't have made for a more different pair.

The first man who looked to be the older one made the more impressive figure. He had short cropped golden hair, a goatee and wore his mustache in a rather vain way that reminded Vaemond of the late Ser Gawen Corbray, word of whose passing had recently reached his siege camp outside Drox Castle.

He wore a suit of mail with an orange surcoat centering 3 black lightning bolts. On his neck he wore a silver anvil, no doubt to honor the Smith. Most peculiarly however, the young reachmen wore a heavy belt made of several different types of metal chains, silver, brass and platinum shimmering in the tent's candle light.

It was to him that Vaemond turned first, gesturing him forward.

''I've been told much of you already in truth, but I'll allow you to make your introductions yourself.'' Vaemond said with a small smile, running a hand on his neck, which while healed and scarred, still troubled him from time to time.

The young man puffed out his chest at that ''Ser Androw Leygood your Grace….steward of the Citadel and kinsman to Lord Leygood….my sword is yours.''

''The citadel hmm….the Kingsguard is in need of warriors lad, not quill dippers.'' Corlys Velaryon, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said, arms crossed.

Ser Androw reddened at that ''I am an anointed knight Ser…..my time studying at the citadel has not lessened my skill at arms in the least.''

Vaemond raised a hand for calm ''The Lord Commander meant no offense, of course we know you are a capable knight, we would not have sent for you if it were otherwise….I am however interested in how a knight such as yourself ended up at the citadel, as its steward nonetheless.''

Ser Androw nodded ''My father was very old when he birthed me, my two brothers were two decades my senior and had several children of their own when I was born, it became clear that my future was not at Leygood Keep. Upon my 16th name day I journeyed to Oldtown to become a novice there.''

''I see by your belt of chains you excelled there.'' Vaemond said, nodding to the young knight's belt of multi-metal chains, each of which signified proficiency in a specific subject.

Ser Androw nodded ''I forged two links of silver in medicine and healing, should you take a wound on the battlefield I could see to your wounds in the midst of battle, I forged links of platinum, steel and brass as well. Take me into your Kingsguard and you will never want a translator. I studied metallurgy and time as well….my final two years Archmaester Gawen saw my potential and named me steward of the Citadel at the age of 19. I was responsible for feeding hundreds of novices, upkeep of dozens of study keeps and admittance of new students.''

Vaemond nodded, extremely impressed with the young knight, but Corlys Velaryon was not yet satisfied.

''Impressive feats…..but you have not mentioned how you earned your knighthood, you say you are a good sword, seems to me between all this pen pushing you wouldn't have much time for training, much less earning your spurs.'' Corlys said bluntly.

''I was trained at arms since I was a boy, both as a squire and page as befits my house.'' Ser Androw said defensively.

''And your knighthood?' Corlys persisted.

''I served as Archmaester Gawens sworn sword when he ventured into the city, as a member of the citadel I was not permitted to carry steel, but the Archmaester was set upon by vagabonds in one of the cities wharfside docks, I set them to flight with a staff and was knighted soon after by a warrior's son who witnessed by bravery.''

''A staff is not a sword boy.'' Corlys grunted.

''It is not…but I am a skilled swordsman as well….I found time to train with Lord Hightowers retinue two days each week as well….will you be needing a demonstration Ser.'' The young Knight said curtly.

Vaemond shook his head ''From what I've heard, your talents are more than deserving of the White Cloak Ser Androw….that will be all for now, take this time to reflect on your coming decision…a Kingsguard serves for life.''

Ser Androw nodded, bowed and withdrew from the tent.

.

.

Vaemond then turned his attention to the second young knight, an admittedly unpleasant task as the knight was without a doubt one of the ugliest men Vaemond had ever laid eyes on.

The center of his lip was turned upwards in a cleft lip all the way up to what remained of his nose, an attractive feature made much worse by the fact half of his face was afflicted by greyscale. His skin was dry, gray and hard as stone on the left side of his face, and the disease had taken much of his nose…in short the man was not pleasant to look upon.

Ser Bryen Royce may not have been attractive, but he was powerfully built in the Royce manner, much like his sister Demerei Royce, who was married to Matarys and was the King's own sister-by-law.

''I need no introduction from you Ser Bryen.'' Vaemond said, he had met him once before, albeit when he was just a boy at his brother Matarys's wedding to Demerei Royce. In fact it had been Demerei who had suggested that her brother be appointed to the Kingsguard in the raven that had brought the ill news of the deaths of 3 of Vaemonds Kingsguard.

''I may not have the illustrious introduction of my predecessor…but I was serving as my fathers master-at-arms in Runestone while Ser Androw was shuffling around with staff and timeglasses.'' The young knight said.

''You do not approve of Ser Androw?'' Vaemond asked with a frown.

Ser Bryen shrugged, but Corlys Velaryon gave a sharp laugh.

''Vaemond…the boy might be talented and sharp as a whip….but I could have oiled my armor and sharpened my blade in the time it took the lad to tell his tale of his ability….no doubt his other soon to be brothers will feel the same…dont hold it against our knight of Runestone.'' Corlys said, causing Ser Bryen to give a curt nod of agreement.

.

.

''Nevertheless you will need to serve alongside him.'' Vaemond said before continuing ''You hold an important role at your fathers court…why do you aspire to take the white.''

''I'm good at fighting and better at killing….it seems you have a need of such men in this war.'' The young Valeman said curtly.

Vaemond nodded ''It would also serve to remove some expectations and put to bed some rumors about you.''

The King studied Ser Bryens face for any anger or sign of emotion in the blunt point, but Ser Bryen only stared.

𝘈 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 Vaemond thought, thought that was not necessarily a bad thing, the Kingsguard could be strengthened by such a man.

''That will be all for now Ser Bryen, I would of course offer you a White Cloak…not only for your ability but our houses are bound by blood, take this time to consider your choice…as I said, the Kingsguard serves for life….should you wish to proceed you and Ser Androw shall take your vows at dusk in front of your Lord Commander and myself.''

Ser Bryen nodded and withdrew.

.

.

''There's some of Ser Gawen in that one.'' Corlys Velaryon said after he had left.

Vaemond nodded ''The Kingsguard needs good fighters, and he's the best knight to represent the Vale, only his family stood with the crown.''

''We still need two more.'' Corlys cautioned.

The King nodded. It had been a terrible loss the Kinsguard had been dealt with losing 3 of its members, not only for losing such capable men, but also in the fact that it left the Kingsguard with just 3 men, Corlys and Ser Harold Langward and Ser Roland Crakehall. To add two young able knights was a start however, though two sports still remained, that vacated by Ser Gregor Goode of the Riverlands and that from the Rogue Merman Ser Warrick.

In truth Vaemond had almost forgotten the Kingsguard had originally been formed with seven members, he had not even been born when Ser Warrick Manderly betrayed his vows and fled to Essos, but when the war ended he meant to finally strip the treasonous sellsword, if he was still alive, of his white cloak and name a successor, in large part due to Corlys's constant reminders, the Kingsgard should never have been in a position to become so depleted in the first place.

Vaemond did not have long to relax from the meeting of his two soon-to-be Kingsguard, as he heard his camp heralds announcing the arrival of a retinue of riders, which Vaemond was expecting.

''Lord Serret has arrived your Grace.'' Ser Roland Crakehall said, opening the tent.

.

.

Vaemond nodded ''Send him in.''

Lord Marq Serret, Lord of Silverhill was a pale man with a fleshy belly and a long neck and a thin face, his hair a mop of brown stringy hair, he wore a beige tunic with the peacock of his house formed with garnets.

''Welcome Lord Serret….be seated.'' Vaemond said, gesturing to a seat by a small table, which had been set with wine.

Three days prior, he had received a raven from Silverhill with Lord Serretts offer of surrender and intent to swear his lands back into the crown's authority.

Vaemond was scarcely surprised when he received the raven, in truth he had expected Loren Lannisters vassals to begin deserting their lord as the war was now firmly going against the Lions of the Rock.

Casterly Rock, besieged from land by Dornish and Reach levies and by sea from 100 Redwyne galleys would fall within a few weeks. Lannisport had fallen as well some time prior to Vickon Greyjoy and Riverspring, castle of House Sarwyck had been stormed by Boros Baratheons Stormlanders. To make matters worse, the host of Theo Tyrell had caught a small Westerlander force of some 5000 men at Peckledon and routed them. Vaemond did not know what madness possessed Loren Lannister to send such a small force south but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Riverspring and House Sarwyk were vassals to House Serrett of Silverhill and Lord Serret no doubt sensed his own castle was next to face the loyalists wrath and decided he was better off jumping ship while he still could.

The meeting went by rather quickly, with Vaemond not forcing any conditions or punishments on the Lord of Silverhill, merely welcoming him back into the King's peace; the southern Westerlands had suffered enough in the war.

Lord Serrett to his credit did his best to turn the situation to his advantage, being so bold at one point to casually mention he would be willing to serve as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands once the war was over, but Vaemond bluntly made it clear that while Lord Serrett was welcome back into the King's Peace, he could not expect any sort of reward other than leniency since he had joined his forces to the crown in the waning days of the war at no risk to his own standing.

Lord Serrett departed soon after, and Vaemond won a few precious moments of respite, but his peace was shattered when Corlys Velaryon entered the tent, raven scroll in hand, a grim look on his face.

Vaemond steeled himself with a sip of wine and nodded wordlessly for the Lord Commander and his most trusted commander to give the tidings.

.

.

''We have word from Byford your Grace….a raven, Loren Lannister and a large host have outmaneuvered us, stealing a march through the northern mountains, the raven says there may be more than twenty thousand, heading east.'' Corlys Velaryon said.

''He abandons Casterly Rock.'' Roland Crakehall said with surprise, many of those in Vaemonds war council had expected the decisive battle of the war to come when Loren Lannister attempted to relieve the siege of his capitol, which would have to be soon.

Vaemond paled at once and made his way to the map in the center of the tent, his eyes focusing on Byford in the Crownlands.

''He's after a bigger prize.'' Vaemond said grimly, if Loren Lannister was marching east, and abandoning all hope of relieving Casterly Rock there was only one location he could have his eyes on.

''Kings Landing.'' Ser Harold Langward said suddenly, with realization.

''The battle at Peckledon was no gift horse….he sacrificed those men to distract the Tyrells, who had orders to stop any march east…..there's no significant host in between Byford and Kings Landing….if he assaults the city…'' Vaemond said, silently cursing himself for a fool, he had not thought it likely Loren Lannister would abandon his capital to march east and even less likely Loren Lannister would be able to outmaneuver his hosts in able to do so, but he had done both.

''We will send a raven….Nyel, Laena and Matarys's family will have ample time to evacuate.'' Ser Harold Langward said reassuringly.

Vaemond nodded ''True enough my family will be able to escape, but the Lannisters have several days time on us, if they storm the city…..and the North should hear that the capitol has fallen….''

''We could have forty thousand angry northmen marching south.'' Corlys finished grimly.

''Send a letter to my sister to evacuate my daughter and nephew from the city, as well as herself….tell her to make it known to Rhaegar Tully that his gold cloaks MUST hold the city until I arrive….King's Landing cannot fall.''

''It will be done.'' Corlys nodded.

𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴 Vaemond thought as he looked at the map, praying that he would not arrive too late.