Chapter 85: The invasion of the Iron Islands P1

Garlan tried not to flinch as he drove his sword through the stomach of a bandit. The squelching sound as steel pierced the flesh made him shudder. It didn't help that the bandit was making all kinds of groaning noises.

"Please…hmm…spare me. Save me, milord." the bandit begged, but Garlan could not shirk his duty by showing pity to the bandit.

He wrenched the sword out and watched dispassionately as the lifeblood of the bandit pooled around his feet. The bandit fell to his knees and fell on his face on the ground dead. His sword was dripping blood, and he was forced to take a few steps back as blood began to paint the sand red.

For a moment, Garlan stood watching the man bleed out, forgetting everything else. He even failed to see a bandit coming at him with an axe till the last moment. He was fortunate enough to bring up his shield at the last moment on instinct. The bandit's axe smacked on his shield with force, but it got repelled away, leaving the bandit unarmed. He could see the apparent surprise on the bandit's face at the turn of events.

"You…" The bandit was about to say something but an arrow punched through the brown-haired man's eye.

The bandit fell to the ground with a thud with an arrow sticking out of his head.

"Thanks." Garlan muttered, looking at Theon Greyjoy, who merely nodded while putting away his bow.

"You did good, lad." Ser Rodrick patted his shoulder.

Garlan didn't say anything and merely nodded at the old knight. This was his fifth kill in this entire war, and Garlan didn't know whether he should be proud or ashamed. He had accompanied Lord Stark as the Northern army captured castles, villages, towns and mines of the Westerlands. He was never involved in the actual fighting and was kept back on guard duty for providing escort to their supply lines. The brave men of the Riverlands and the North did the better part of the fighting while he drank ale and sang songs with men guarding the weapons, food and medical supplies.

Sometimes, he felt like being assigned to guard duty was a blessing in disguise. He had seen the injured men stream into the camps dismembered and bleeding with injuries that made him wretch. Seeing that had robbed him of any colourful notions that remained in his mind about war and glory that could be earned on the battlefield. He now understood why Lord Eddard never spoke of his battles against the Targaryens or the Ironborn. He had often wondered why Lord Eddard never boasted of his victories like other lords. After all, Lord Stark fought many great battles and won. The most famous one that came to his mind was the Battle of the Bells and the fight against Arys Targaryen's Kingsguard. The latter ended in tragedy with the death of Lady Lyanna, but Lord Eddard never spoke ill of the Kingsguard or their battle prowess.

'War is a tale of blood, loss and suffering. There is no glory in war.' Garlan grimly thought.

"These bandits are getting more and more desperate. They're always targeting our weapons supplies." said Theon, fastening his bow on his back while retrieving his arrows from the dead bodies of the fallen bandits.

"These are not normal bandits. They are mutineers from the Lannister army. They are after enchanted weapons Harrion gave us." Ser Rodrick said, shaking his head.

"How did they know?" Garlan asked in shock.

After all, the magically enchanted weapons were kept a secret. He'd admit it was hard to keep the secret considering the weapons that came from Winterfell remained invulnerable throughout the course of the war. Their invulnerability was starkly visible for the men to see. Not just their invulnerability. The weapons Harrion 'blessed' with his magic were light to carry, didn't suffer any damage, and cut through even castle-forged steel with ease if used correctly. This left the Northern army virtually invulnerable throughout the battles, which also had the added effect of the men fearlessly throwing themselves into battle.

That is why the Stark banners were feared throughout the shores of the Westerlands.

"They must've taken one of our men as a prisoner, or rumours might have somehow reached their ears." Garlan reasoned.

"It doesn't matter. We'll continue the journey after burying the dead." said Ser Rodrick.

They went back to making sure they were ready to continue the journey to Oxcross. A major host was gathering there to push into the heart of the Westerlands. Rumour was that there was going to be a large battle, and Garlan would be lying to himself if he said he was not curious to see the battle.

"Do you think it's true?" Theon suddenly asked, making Garlan frown at the heir of Pyke.

"What's true?" he asked curiously.

"They say Harrion came to Lannisport on his flying ship and blew apart the city. Some say he burned it down by summoning flames from the seven hells." Theon whispered.

"Why would I know?" Garlan asked, staring at the squirming Greyjoy.

"You know, maybe Lord Stark said something or Robb." Theon said in a small voice.

Garlan felt a grain of pity for the Greyjoy heir. Ever since word came of the Ironborn attack on the North, there were demands from many of the Northern and Riverland lords to have Theon executed to send a message to Balon Greyjoy. Lord Stark had put such notions down, but almost everyone viewed Theon with contempt despite that. The only reason nothing untoward had happened to Theon was that the North had defeated the Iron Fleet in the seas. The attempted invasion by the Ironborn failed, and they sailed home with their tail between their legs.

"They only know what the rumours claimed. Harrion has yet to respond with a raven. Therefore, they don't know much."

"Harrion will attack my home, won't he?" Theon asked fearfully. "Why else would he come so close to the Westerlands on his ship?"

"Prince Oberyn was Harrion's teacher. Most likely, Harrion came because Prince Oberyn might've requested help." Garlan reasoned.

Even Garlan knew Harrion wouldn't make such bold moves merely to help Prince Oberyn. Harrion never shied away from expressing his contempt for the Ironborn in the past. He was almost certain Harrion was going to do something against the Ironborn. If Harrion could travel all the way to Lannisport and attack the Lannisters, then he saw no reason to disbelieve Harrion was attacking the Ironborn at this very moment. In fact, he was confident Harrion was attacking the surviving Iron Fleet to teach them a lesson. Garlan always thought that Harrion was holding himself back in displaying the more offensive magic after hearing the rumours of what happened at Skane from some of the guards in Winterfell and Jon.

But he didn't say any of that to Theon Greyjoy. Like any self-respecting Reachmam, he also hated the Ironborn. But that doesn't mean he enjoyed watching a friend who fought and trained by his side in pain, worrying about his family.

'Lord Eddard was right again.' Garlan thought grimly, pursing his lips. 'War brings nothing but strife between even the greatest of friends and the closest of families.'

"I hope Harrion shows some restraint." Garlan muttered under his breath as he followed Ser Rodrick on his horse once they finished with the bodies.

****

Harry looked down from the sky as his airship hovered over the castle of Blacktyde. The castle was nothing fancy. It was made of stone and wood, like any other castle in Westeros. The castle was on a small hill overlooking the sea. It was a good spot to keep watch over the ships coming from the north. Blacktyde could be used as a chokepoint to stifle Northern shipping if the island was developed. That was why Harry was striking first and taking out the island from becoming a threat in the future.

'It is unfortunate Baelor Blacktyde remains a ward of House Hightower. Otherwise, I could've ended House Blacktyde today.' Harry thought.

"Are we ready?" Harry asked loudly.

"We are, my lord." Celos Poole answered him, manning the control console of the airship.

"Very well then. Remove our invisibility. Let them see us." Harry ordered.

Celos nodded, tapping a blue knob on the control console. It didn't take long for screams and shouts to come from the land below as the airship became visible to the people near the Blacktyde castle.

"Attack." Harry gave the order to the eager-looking faces in his ship.

Harry was ambivalent about what would happen, but he told himself that a certain amount of cruelty could go a long way in quickly pacifying the island. If he were lucky, Harlaw would surrender after they learned what happened to Blacktyde.

Therefore, Harry oversaw the Alchemists set up caches of newly made Wildfire in glass vessels towards the small opened hatches on the floor of the airship. Unlike the poisonous green colour of the normal Wildfire, the jars were sporting a viscous fluid of silver colour. He had some choice spells to add when the Alchemists began producing Wildfire for his use. He wanted the flames to be confined in a controlled environment. Therefore, the Wildfire made in Avalon was fine-tuned to contain itself inside a barrier of its own creation. The flames would never spread outside of a 500-meter radius. While the area of action was confined to a small space to ensure uncontrollable fires, Harry also increased the potency of the Wildfire.

One of the good things that came out of hatching the dragons was that he got some good time to study the fire breathing and ice breathing of both dragon species. Upon closer study, the fire element was more fascinating and embedded with properties that allowed him to make some interesting changes to Wildfire.

"Release."

The Alchemists dropped the glass vessels filled with the silver-white fluid down the many hatches of the ship. One by one, the Wildfire pots fell on Castle Blacktyde and the immediate surrounding of the castle. They continued dropping the vessels until no more jars of Wildfire were left on the ship's floor.

"Anya, it's time." said Harry, keeping his eyes on the castle down below.

Anya drew a fire-enchanted arrow and aimed it with her bow at the castle. Harry heard the string get released. He, along with almost everyone else on the ship, watched quietly as the arrow sailed through the air and disappeared into the mass of stone and wood of Castle Blacktyde. The next moment, a brilliant white flash lit up the entire island. A large pillar of fire erupted from the castle, consuming everything it touched. White flames danced in the wind as the castle of Blacktyde was swept away under the ferocity of the flame. Screams rang from the land below as the intense heat of the flame gave rise to fierce winds. However, true to Harry's design, the flames confined themselves to the targeted area despite the firestorm brewing around the castle.

"It's absolute anarchy down there," Anya whispered, looking down at the ferocious flames devouring stone, wood, and men alike.

"And more will follow. Captain Celos, take us to the next site. We'll strike while the iron is still hot." said Harry.

The messages were relayed to other airships as they commenced the bombardment of Blacktyde. Their mission was quite simple. The first phase required the curbing of all decision-makers and leaders in Blacktyde. For that, Harry struck the castle of Blacktyde, taking out the maester of the castle and any remaining members of House Blacktyde in one stroke. The next phase focused on attacking the beachheads with great force so that the Northern ships could dock at the port of Blacktyde. The third phase was the island's invasion with troops on the ground.

The airships continued to bombard the shoreline for the next hour using Wildfire forcing the Ironborn to move into the island's interior. This allowed the safe landing of ships and the capture of the port of Blacktyde with minimal effort.

Harry stood with Anya and Kyla overlooking the Northern army camp in the port. He had built natural fortifications by raising stone walls around the harbour in case the Ironborn felt like they wanted to try their hand at taking back the port's control. He had a good feeling the Ironborn were scared the shit out of themselves with his arrival, and the last thing on their mind was to run towards his army. But it was better to be prepared for anything. There were all kinds of stupid among silly people like the Ironborn.

"Tell the men to speed up. We need to take control of the island within a week." Harry ordered.

"Yes, my lord." Celos nodded, taking his leave to speak with the men.

"What shall we do now, my lord?" Anya asked.

"We'll let the Northern lords handle the pirates. As promised, any treasures on the island are theirs to keep. I, on the other hand, has a sapling to plant." said Harry, fishing out the sapling Ygg gave him.

Looking at the burning hill in the distance, Harry had a pretty good idea of where to plant the saplings. Once the saplings were planted, Ygg could flush out the Drowned god from its lair, and Harry could kill it. At least, that was the plan.

There was a chance the Drowned god would refuse to come to the surface. In that case, he'd have to plant more of the saplings in Harlaw as well and perhaps even Old Wyk, which is the holiest place for the Ironborn. If nothing worked, he could breach the walls of Pyke and destroy the Seastone chair. At the very least, that should elicit some sort of response from the Drowned god instead of hiding his ugly mug in the spirit realm.

Harry knew it was a gamble, but he was willing to make the call. One way or the other, the Ironborn had to go. There was no future for their pirate culture in the world he envisioned.

****

Harry remained on his horse, watching the battle from a safe distance atop a hill. The Ironborn warriors had gathered themselves together with whatever weapons they could find at another port on the southern shore of the island. They were in a desperate bid to escape from Blacktyde on their boats, and Harry let a few of them escape.

After all, he wanted word to spread of what he was doing to Blacktyde. He wanted the Ironborn to fear him and pool their men together so that he could defeat them easily in one battle instead of fighting a number of battles. That way, Northmen would suffer fewer causalities and most importantly, he could take more prisoners from the Ironborn.

"Adela. It's your turn." Harry said, looking at his apprentice, gifted with the element of ice.

"As you will, my lord." Adela dipped her head before taking out her bow and notching an ice arrow on the string.

Harry watched his student take careful aim and let the arrow fly. His eyes trailed after the arrow as it sailed through the air a great distance and struck at the rear of the Ironborn army. The ground shook as the arrow's magic seeped into the ground.

"You made a change to the arrow, my lord?" Anya asked, frowning at the battlefield at not seeing ice forming immediately.

"Yes, I modified some of Adela's arrows a little bit. I don't want the Ironborn encased in ice, as that'd kill most of them. I want to cut off their escape." said Harry.

A ten-foot wall of ice emerged from the ground behind the Ironborn army, wide enough to trap them inside, denying them escape.

"Lord Glover. I leave the rest in your capable hands." said Harry looking at the shell-shocked face of Robett Glover.

Robett Glover stared at Harry and his apprentices with wide eyes and then stared at the battlefield with an unreadable look.

"I don't suppose you have magic to knock them all out." Robett muttered.

Harry merely chuckled at the comment. He watched as Robett Glover charged down the hill leading the cavalry to smash into the disorganised lines of the Ironborn, cutting a bloody swathe through them. The entire Ironborn resistance fell apart in a few minutes as they lost cohesion as an army. The battle raged on as men tried to kill each other with gusto in the heat of the battle. Harry turned away from the slaughter and instead sent another group of men under Leobald Tallhart to secure the port with clear instructions to limit the damages as much as possible. After all, he can't have the ports burned down or lose too many workers in the port to the battle.

"Four days from now, it's my twelfth namesday. I suppose the island of Blacktyde would be my namesday present." Harry muttered to himself.

****

Lewis Lydden felt like everything was falling apart. At first, he had refused to believe the rumours about the fall of Lannisport. But now, a raven came from Casterly Rock, confirming his worst fears.

'Lannisport has fallen to the Dornish army.' Lewis thought with fear.

His hands shook as he set aside the parchment carrying the message from Casterly Rock. That was not the only message he received. Lewis' eyes fell on another parchment his maester delivered to his study. This one was from Crakehall, but it was not a message from Lord Crakehall. Instead, the seal had the crowned stag on it. It was a message from Kong Robert Baratheon demanding his surrender and ordering him to allow the knights of the Vale safe passage through the Goldroad.

"Even Crakehall has fallen." Lewis whispered in fear.

"It's not just Crakehall, cousin. House Swyft and Serrett have dipped their banners before Stannis Baratheon. Our spies have spotted Baratheon banners traversing the hills to our south. They will most likely attack us from the west once they find the right path while the knights of Vale attack us from the east."

Lewis looked at his cousin Loren, sporting a look of urgency on his face.

"What're you saying?" Lewis asked.

"The Northerns have stormed Ashemark, Castamare, the Crag, Banefort, Tarbeck Hall and Kayce. They have total control over the shores. The mines of Castamare, Nunn's Deep and Pendric Hills have all fallen under the control of the Northmen. Lord Lefford has secured an alliance with House Tully and turned against Lord Tywin. I think it's time we rethink our loyalties."

Lewis looked troubled by Loren's advice. He knew his cousin spoke the truth. He had kept his word to Lord Tywin so far because the man had assured him the Riverlands would not be fighting in the war and the Reach would be immediately knocked out of the war. Neither of those claims came to be true. Edmure Tully was now betrothed to Alysanne Lefford, and the Riverlords were pushing steadfastly into the heart of the Westerlands. While initially suffering several defeats, the Reach turned things around once Robert Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon led their armies into the field. Stannis and Robert Baratheon routed the Lannister army twice in the Reach, forcing Lord Tywin to withdraw his army into the Westerlands.

Now, even Lannisport had fallen to the invading enemy. It was now only a matter of time before Casterly Rock was put under siege. Lewis could see now that there was no chance for Lord Tywin to conjure up a victory out of this situation. He didn't want his men to needlessly die fighting off the knights of the Vale fighting in vain for a lost cause.

"Send emissaries to Lord Royce. We'll ask for terms." said Lewis, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"I'm sorry it has come to this cousin. There is simply no other way…" Loren trailed off as bells began ringing inside their castle.

"Bells! It's coming from the south!" Lewis said with wide eyes.

Loren immediately ran toward the window and pushed it open. Lewis also joined his cousin at the window, and they could hear the bells ringing from the other towers along the curtain wall of their castle.

"It must be Stannis Baratheon. They must've found a way around the mountains." Loren said grimly.

"Send emissaries to Stannis Baratheon as well. I'll not have our castle face attacks from south and east." said Lewis. "One way or the other, this bloody siege ends today."

Within the span of an hour, the emissaries were sent to both armies, and Deep Den raised the banner of House Baratheon while the gates of the castle opened before the two armies. The Goldroad was now wide open for the Crown.