' WE WILL DO THE SAME '
Hello everyone, here is a new chapter.
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POV: Onion Knight;
Lighthouse of Hope.
About five seconds after Ser Amon Fury ordered the attack...
Ser Davos, Heller, and Med were the only ones who would not take part in the battle. All three were fine sailors, but very poor weapons men.
They would have been good only as arrow meat in that fight. But the trio would not stand idly by. They too had an important role to play in the survival of this crew.
They had bolted the door to the access cabin and were now waiting for a signal. A very specific signal that had to be shouted by one particular group.
' It's him! Ser Amon has made it!'
''That's the signal. Quick, to the bulkhead!... Heller what are you doing standing there? Did you hear me?" Ser Davos asked a helmsman of barely seventeen.
"Yes, Captain... it's just... Med and I were thinking that maybe... maybe this is the most suitable spot for the ship to take on water, Ser." Med, a deckhand, and apprentice carpenter, mute since birth, not much older than Med, nodded in support of his companion's idea.
"... Phew... There's no time to discuss this any further! This keel is made of seasoned oak! UNBREAKABLE! We only have two hammers and a few pickaxes to make a big enough hole.
We could never..." Davos fell silent as he saw Med give a simple, sharp blow with a hammer on a piece of wood wedged between a couple of planks...
Water began to splash everywhere.
'Damn me and my prejudiced tongue!' Davos thought as he observed enough of a hole to sink the ship in less than an hour.
It would have been better if the leak had spread to a section of the keel. The ship would have sunk faster.
"Well... Good work, young sailors! Forward! Let's create at least two more holes and then, hurry to the lifeboat!" The two boys nodded and quickly set to work.
They had already finished creating a passage between the holes for the oars.
The rudder lines had already been cut.
The lifeboat to carry the trio aboard the Iron Victory was ready.
It was almost time to abandon the ship.
About five minutes later...
A couple of men from Ser Amon's team helped the trio board their new ship.
There were only four sailors left to guard the craft. All the others were engaged in the melee of steel and blood.
"Welcome aboard, Captain Davos. Your orders, Sir?" Jude Pynkheart, the son of a landed knight in Stannis' service, asked.
There were only seven of them, but they were the seven best sailors of the original fifty crew.
'Cut the lines! Four men at the oars. Two ready to raise the deck on my signal!" Instructed Davos with celerity.
"Yes, Captain!"
End POV.
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POV: The Pupil of Ramas;
Lighthouse of Hope.
Five seconds after an attack signal was launched...
It had been the most delicate part of the plan.
William, Blade [3], and the twenty-one warriors under their command had to fight on the defensive against Victarion Greyjoy's crew.
By now, the Vice Commander of the Winter Guardians had experience fighting against ironmen.
These, by far, were the best axes the Iron Fleet had to offer. Each man was a combat veteran.
Even if they fought to win, the price in human lives would be high.
William knew that his Lord General if he could find a way, would always opt for a victory with as few casualties as possible.
And now, to achieve a victory without at least half their comrades perishing, they had to hold back.
They had to make the enemy commanders believe that victory was within their grasp... if only they could summon more men from Iron Victory.
The task of William, Blade [3], and General Duncan was to hold off the most dangerous opponents for as long as possible.
Currently, he, Blade [3] and their eighteen remaining warriors were holding off forty-one ironmen armed with axes and swords.
As soon as the team led by Ser Amon had given the signal, then it would finally be time to unleash. They did not have to fight to win, but only to penetrate the enemy lines and leave them behind. The Crannogmen, and the crossbowmen, would support their unit from the Stern to cover their retreat.
Lord Duncan had not only invested piles of gold in the success of this plan, but he was also currently facing one of the Iron Islands' most feared enemies alone.
But now was not the time to think about that...
They did not have long before the Lighthouse of Hope sank.
Ser Davos must have already started hammering the hull beneath their feet.
"NOW!!! FOLLOW ME, MEN!!! TO THE ATTACK!" Thundered William immediately after plunging his blade into the centre of his opponent's solar plexus.
"ATTACK!!! FOLLOW THE COMMANDER!" Roared Blade[3] immediately after she too had finished playing with her axe juggler.
"UAAARHH!" Replied the surviving unit consisting of fourteen Frost Blades and four sailors.
"STOP THEM! Maintain posit... Urgh!" A throwing knife hit the throat of the officer leading those ironmen.
William was the arrowhead. He unsheathed both his short blades and began to penetrate the enemy line at the weakest point.
A man armed with a pike and another with an axe and shield tried to thwart William's charge.
The commander jumped to the side to find a foothold, and with an acrobatic leap, he leapt behind the duo, ripping open the mouth of the man with the pike. The latter spun around to react, but as expected, Blade [3] did not miss the opportunity to stab the throat of the ironman from behind. A pair of needles and a crossbow bolt neutralised three more men on that side...
The breach had been made. The twenty warriors of Westeros charged mercilessly like a burning blade through butter.
With one glance over his shoulder, William noted that at least eight more ironmen had been knocked down in the counterattack... but one man from Davos had not made it through. He had fallen to the ground with an axe in his back.
William stepped up the offensive and threw himself at the last brick in that wall of flesh.
He leapt at his enemy, plunging his blades into the gaps between his neck and collarbone. The man died instantly without being able to put up a fight.
It was done - the passage was clear.
'FUCK!' William ducked with all his might downwards... A throwing axe had been perfectly aimed at his face. A single instant and it would be game over for him.
The boy even felt the edge of the blade lightly scratch the top of his helmet...
"Arghh..."
Unfortunately, the axe didn't miss its target behind William...
A Frost Blade that William couldn't immediately recognize, had been struck in the chest. A fatal wound...
'WHO FUC...' William didn't have time to curse. Another throwing axe was about to reach him.
But this time William was ready...
"SCKIIINGH!" The axe was deflected and countered.
His master, Ramas, had been training William to fend off throwing weapons for months.
Finally, he found the master axe thrower... He was just over twenty feet away from him.
He was in his early twenties, but William knew from one look that he was one of the most dangerous opponents on the ship.
His hair and beard were long but well-groomed. He wore only light armour of boiled leather and had three more throwing axes on his belt. He was currently fiddling with a larger axe in his hand.
That individual seemed more focused on protecting the Ironborn priest than fighting. Even so, the two of them squared off for a couple of seconds, exchanging provocative glances.
Then the Ironman, whose name William didn't know, gave him a mocking smile...
"COMMANDER! I'LL TAKE CARE OF..." Blade [3] tried to say... but was immediately interrupted.
"NO!... He is mine.
I leave the command to you, Blade [3]!!" Ordered the protégé of Ramas to charge headlong toward his chosen opponent.
End POV.
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POV: Nute the Barber;
Lighthouse of Hope.
Two seconds after a Vice Commander charged toward Nute...
'He has accepted the challenge! At last a valid offer to the Drowned God.' Thought the Iron Victory quartermaster with joy and excitement.
'Come towards my fine axe boy... You need a good shave.' The last word of the sentence coincided with Nute's first melee slash.
The blow was dodged, and his opponent moved to the side, throwing a tiny knife straight at his face.
Nute easily saw it coming and dodged just as easily, but he didn't see that his opponent had two throwing daggers in his hand.
When Nute returned to his position, another knife was waiting for him, less than a foot away.
A tenth of a second more and the Quartermaster would have lost his right eye. And the attack was not over.
His opponent had already drawn a second long knife, which seemed to be very dangerous...
But Nute did not back down. The two of them dodged and intercepted blade blows at a rapid pace without giving each other a moment's respite.
The first blood had been drawn by the knife lover...
The left wrist had been cut, but not too deeply.
"Urgh... Fuck!" For the first time in this confrontation, Nute retreated a couple of steps.
"Not bad, kid.
I'm Nute... Nute aka 'The Barber'. The right arm of Captain Victarion Greyjoy." Nute said as he introduced himself.
He wanted to show some respect to his worthy opponent.
The boy remained silent for a few seconds, still maintaining a fighting stance... But then he too replied.
"William. Deputy Commander of the Winter Guardians in the service of Lord Duncan Tallhart." The boy.
"Well, 'Deputy Commander'. Shall we reopen the dance?" Nute.
"Let's dance." William accepted the invitation, not letting Nute have the initiative.
The opponent sought a lunge towards the centre of his chest. Nute moved to the left trying to return the blood debt from before.
The first attack was a half feint. At the last second, William changed the direction of the blow by changing his grip on the handle... The dagger sank into the wood of a fence to provide a stable foothold for a high kick. Nute gave up the slash and ducked, but this time, he wanted to be the one to surprise his opponent...
The Ironborn spun around and threw an axe at that nice, close, stationary target.
But the bastard had foreseen it... Not only did he deliberately let himself fall backwards to the ground, but right behind him, there was a fellow Nute who was hit full on the left calf.
"ARGH!!... NUTE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! NOO!!! URgh..."
Wendel... one of Aeron's three remaining personal guards, had been silenced by a sword strike from an enemy he was fighting with.
It was as if Nute had given him that coup de grace...
Now 'The Barber' was pissed off.
His opponent had foreseen everything...
"BASTARD!!!" Nute charged like a fury towards William.
"Now we're even, asshole!" Replied the Vice Commander with a teasing grin.
Nute had lost control of his emotions.
He wanted to kill the bastard here and now.
"EVEN IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU MYSELF, I SWEAR YOU WILL REACH THE DEPTHS OF THE ABYSS TODAY!!!!" Shouted Nute as he cleaved axe blows like there was no tomorrow.
His opponent dodged them all with ease and even managed to slightly cut Nute's cheekbone.
The Quartermaster drew his penultimate axe to match the blades.
The battle was fierce. After another minute, both fighters had dodged, parried and slashed dozens of blows. None managed to land a winning blow.
William had also been wounded, but more lightly than Nute.
Time seemed to pass as slowly as molasses. Every molecule of adrenaline was pumping.
Nute's survival instincts were beginning to ring more and more...
He was losing ground. His opponent was getting too used to his fighting style, and he was falling behind.
Then came the moment when William's foot slipped slightly on a pool of blood...
'AN OPENING!!!' Nute didn't think twice. He unbalanced himself forward to get a slash into his opponent's left side.
The blow went in...
But something was wrong...
No 'expression of pain... No vibration of the blade tearing through flesh... It felt more like a rigid impact...
"FUCK!" It was one of Nute's last words...
It was all a well-played feint. William wanted the axe to hit that seemingly defenceless spot.
But on that square inch of leather, there was a stud in the shape of a throwing dagger case. And it contained a steel blade...
Nute couldn't even see the blade that pierced his neck at the left blind spot...
He didn't feel much pain... more like shortness of breath due to the blood in his lungs...
Nute smiled with a look of shock still on his face.
He wanted to sincerely congratulate his opponent... but he couldn't make a meaningful sound.
Only a few red bubbles of blood...
Everything started to turn black.
'The Drowned God claims me...' Nute the Barber managed to think before losing consciousness.
End POV
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POV: Former Captain of the Iron Victory.
Lighthouse of Hope.
Just after the fall of a Quartermaster...
Victarion continued to be harassed by the torrent of slashes the tree-worshipping boy kept generating around him.
In twenty-five years of fencing experience, he had never seen anything like it.
Victarion was forced to maintain a defensive posture with no chance to counterattack.
He had managed to activate [Shield of Faith] on himself again, and his brother Aeron had empowered him with the spell [Bless].
But even so, the Drowned God Paladin could only withstand that unpredictable flurry of slashes.
Now that he wielded only his axe, without his shield of oak and iron, it was harder not to take damage.
The brat had even severed a pair of his decorative hardened steel tentacles on his helmet.
A deliberate move to force him to move more out of impetus than rationality... But he managed to resist the insult.
You can't keep up this pace forever! As soon as fatigue sets in, I'm going to tear you apart!' Victarion thought as he parried another dangerous slash with his iron forearm.
Even he, a veteran of a hundred battles who had seen death in the face dozens of times, was beginning to feel a sense of dread and helplessness in the face of this abnormal being.
It wasn't just his unnatural movements, but also his facial expression and murderous aura.
That boy was not human...
"CAPTAIN! THE ENEMY IS RETREATING!!! THEY'RE HEADING FOR OUR SHIP!!!" shouted one of his men, defending Aeron from Poppa's constant darts.
Victarion could barely find the concentration to respond.
Every ounce of attention had to be directed at the eleven-year-old wielding Valyrian Steel mercilessly.
"NUTE! STOP THEM!!!" Victarion managed to shout with a huge effort.
"NUTE HAS FALLEN, CAPTAIN!" Roared his man urgently.
"DAMN IT!!" Victarion could not even feel sorrow or resentment at the loss of his best man...
Even Aeron could barely support him. If the enemy had approached him en masse, they could have even turned the tide with his brother's special offensive skill... but the enemy seemed to avoid him like the grey disease.
They only attacked him with ranged weapons.
And the most valuable weapon that could have turned the tide of events was busy holding back a boy possessed by the Storm God...
Victarion had to risk it...
Defensive spells would soon dry up as well. He had no time.
"MEN, ATTACK! TAKE THE STERN!!! Urgh..." A slash cut Victarion's forearm deep... but at least his men responded to the command.
He still had over thirty men-at-arms in strength. They could attempt another offensive.
Then... finally it seemed that luck was about to turn in his favour again.
The boy began to feel the effects of his unnatural efforts...
He was backing away and panting at the same time.
He wanted to fall back towards the stairs.
"YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME, DEMON!!!" Shouted Victarion even managing to activate [Lay of Hands] to heal his seriously damaged arm.
"GURIUSH! NOW!!!" Shouted the little boy.
Victarion could see a small man pop out from between a couple of crossbowmen. He had a blowgun in his hand... and fired.
A sparkle went past Victarion's head, missing him completely.
"You should have entrusted your life to someone else, you brat..." Victarion said, advancing with great murderous fury.
"You should take care of your younger brothers, Captain... Aeron seems to be in great trouble.
Visdath Frog venom is very dangerous... "Said Bloody Snow backing away towards the stairs.
Victarion turned sharply, and as announced by that demon, Aeron had been hit.
A man was supporting him. He had fainted...
The needle had struck him in the throat. He would have had no way to even use healing magic on himself...
Victarion had no choice. He was the only one who could save his life...
He gave up the chase and sprinted towards his brother, using the last 2/5 of [Lay of Hands] he had left on Aeron.
Fortunately, he had made it in time. He had already pulled out the needle over an inch long.
He had no time for thanks.
Victarion demanded his revenge in response to all those insults and dishonourable acts he had suffered.
He sprinted towards the Stern. The enemy was successfully retreating.
More than half of them had to be aboard his ship by now...
He did not even notice the dart that had grazed his knee.
He hurried up the stairs.
Only Bloody Snow remained aboard that ship... The rest of the men were moving backwards on deck at a slow pace, continuing to unload poisoned needles and darts on his men.
"MOVE! HE IS MINE!!! DO NOT INTERVENE!!!...
FACE ME IF YOU DARE, BLOODY SNOW... OR RUN AWAY LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE!" Victarion roared, trying to deliberately provoke his enemy.
The boy stopped... and turned behind him, giving up on the bridge.
"RAISE THE BRIDGE!!!" He shouted in reply behind him.
The levers were operated... The bridge was rising and moving away from the ship.
'Now he's trapped...' Victarion thought.
The Captain granted a nod of respect to his opponent.
In return, as promised, he alone advanced towards him to confront him.
Victarion charged at him with a sequence of swift and vicious blows. The boy, although visibly tired, still managed to defend himself well... perhaps even too well.
Victarion understood immediately.
"You've also activated [Shield of Faith]... but that won't be enough! Ahahah... You're mine!" Victarion said as he continued to push his opponent back.
[DIVINE SMITE!] A blue light radiated from the Iron Man's axe. He had just used the last spell slot in his possession.
He wanted to finish him off in style. The glowing blue axe dropped with all the strength Victarion could muster.
Surprisingly, his opponent also seemed to use a similar move to parry the blow.
His red sword showed a greenish glow...
"CLANGGH!!! SPUUNNNGHH!!!" In addition to a mighty clangour of metal, an unnatural sound of energy was heard...
Two repulsive forces, one blue and the other green were in full contrast.
But Victarion was much stronger physically... He sensed it...
The boy would close shortly.
"YOU CAN'T RESIST BOY! I'M STRONGER THAN YOU!!! AHAHAH!
YOU SHOULD HAVE FLED WITH THE OTHER COWARDS! RHHUAAAAAAA!!!" Victarion pushed with every ounce of strength he could muster.
The boy used his steel forearm to try and give his blade support... One knee slumped to the ground...
But the madman continued to smile.
"You... Urgh... You are right, my Lord... Thank you for the advice."
The smiling boy's gaze shifted to frame another view.
A middle finger rose from his left hand resting on the flat of the blade...
Victarion had just been gesturing to fuck off.
{Misty Step}
A silvery mist appeared and the boy disappeared...
Victarion's axe planted itself on the ground...
"Where the fuck did he go?!"...
"CAPTAIN VICTARION!! I AM HERE, MY LORD!..." A loud voice came in the direction of Iron Victory.
Victarion and other men looked out onto the ship's dock.
A boy was waving his hand less than twenty-five feet away from them. He was resting on the half-lifted deck of his ship.
The distance between the two ships was increasing more and more...
"ON BEHALF OF MYSELF AND MY CREW, THANK YOU, MY LORD, FOR HELPING US THROUGH THESE DIFFICULT TIMES.
OUR OLD SHIP HAD SOME STRUCTURAL DEFECTS.
BUT THANKS TO YOU AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL 'IRON VICTORY', WE'LL BE ABLE TO REACH OUR ALLIES QUICKLY AND COMFORTABLY.
THE SHIP CURRENTLY SINKING UNNATURALLY LOW OFF THE BOW... IT'S CALLED THE 'BEACON OF HOPE'...
IT'S GOT A MANGY RUDDER... BUT WE'VE LEFT YOU THE OARS. WITH A LITTLE ELBOW GREASE... WHO KNOWS, YOU MIGHT EVEN BE ABLE TO ESCAPE THE ROYAL FLEET.
LET'S HOPE THE DROWNED GOD HELPS YOU...
REMEMBER, WATCH OUT FOR OUR SHIP.
TAKE GOOD CARE, CAPTAIN VICTARION!
WE WILL DO THE SAME WITH YOUR!!"