Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Distasteful Slavers.

Brynden Tully, 275AC, The Orange Shore

"Slavers…" Brynden spit out in distaste from his tent, surrounded by the various nobility from the Seven Kingdoms. The battle had finished hours ago and they had routed the Tyroshi sell swords, forcing them to retreat down the river as their own forces moved across the river to solidify their position on the Northern banks of the river.

Brynden could hear the whips cracking in the distance as the slaves worked to break down the Volantene camps and built fortifications on the opposite side of the bank as the freemen feasted in victory, counting the coin they had taken from loot.

Brynden never wanted to come here to fight amongst slavers and flesh peddlers, though, he could hardly turn down an order from the King. He suspected that this was some form of retribution from his brother for not marrying the Redwyne girl as he had wanted. Hoster wanted to raise his position in life, always scheming and plotting, even at the cost of his family's happiness.

Hoster was so caught up with his scheming and plotting, he started to forget about the meaning of the Tully words in the process, something that had caused a widening schism between the two brothers in recent years.

The battle that happened during the day had gone well, the slaver in charge was at least a competent commander if his tattoos were anything to go by. In Volantis, one decorated their skin with their victories and exploits of war, their commander being no exception. They also decorated their slaves, marking their position in life, yet here he was fighting on their side. No one could mistake a slaves position by sight, as their place in life was often printed on their face, reducing them to nothing but objects and tools to be used and disposed of as fit. Westeros may have its many problems, but at least they weren't slavers.

"What's our next move?" The large Skagosi man questioned, busy sharpening his axe in the corner. The man had done well in battle, though his troops had been nearly overrun by the elephant charge, lacking the discipline to stay in formation. From Brynden's experience during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Elephants were typically used to intimidate and break the lines of enemy soldiers, particularly effective against slave soldiers in Essos who had no real drive to fight their enemies.

"We will start moving down the coast to drive the enemy out and take control of this area, help force a settlement between the Free Cities and bring this Trade War to an end." Brynden informed the large Skagosi man.

"Good, my men could do with a bit of revenge. We lost over a hundred men, but we gave more than we got." Baldur said proudly as Brynden frowned.

"When faced with the War Elephants, you need to ensure your men to hold a tight formation and don't break apart. You are fortunate that the Unsullied were there to handle them." Brynden chided the larger man.

"Aye, the ball-less wonders did quite well, I was impressed by their courage. My men won't make that mistake a second time." Baldur promised. The enemy commander had been unlucky, twice, in his attempts to ford the river. The first to block them from crossing the ford was the Unsullied and the second was the Skagosi men.

While normally undisciplined soldiers would break at the sign of War Elephants, it was usually to run the other way, creating an opening for the War Elephants to charge through and cause disarray on the enemy lines, allowing for ones forces to follow behind.

Brynden had seen it time and time again, with the Westerosi levies breaking down and running away during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, in the face of the Golden Company War Elephants.

The Skagosi men had been broken, as the enemy commander had planned. Though, they only had broken formation to charge around the large beasts and into the enemy lines, blocking them from following behind their Elephants.

Brynden had to give credit to the Skagosi men for being fearless in the face of such beasts, it was certainly something the enemy commander didn't prepared for.

Second, the Unsullied had didn't broke down, like most slave soldiers would, standing their ground and killing the War Elephants effectively. The commander on the other side was desperate on attempting to ford the river, resulting in a decisive defeat and inflicting heavy casualties. It was clear that whomever was in charge of the enemy wasn't as experienced in the arts of war as their own commander.

"It was no courage." Brynden said, speaking to the group. "Unsullied are not just slaves with no balls. They were once boys, forced to endure the harshest of training and stripped of their individuality, empathy and self - worth. They know no bravery, only obedience, as you saw." Brynden informed the quiet room.

"A travesty." Ser Mark Ryswell said softly with a nod of agreement.

"Aye, one we can do little about though. Let us focus on winning this war and surviving, with our men intact." Brynden ordered, looking at the large Skagosi man as he said the last part. The man grunted in acknowledgement, though kept his eyes on the men outside, being whipped as they hauled supplies across the river to where their new camp would be for the night.

The days passed in a crawl beneath the hot sun of the disputed lands as the Westerosi marched alongside the Volantene's down river, gaining fealty from the towns and villages they passed on the way.

The Disputed Lands had a long history of changing hands and the people that lived within had little loyalty to any of the Free Cities, often paying taxes to whoever controlled the region at the time.

It was unlike anything one would find in Westeros, where the occupants at least held some loyalty to their governing lords, built on a pact of mutual benefit. Here, money was the bottom line, and income the only thing that truly mattered. No one cared for the lives of the people, though they were careful not to lay waste to the region as it would negate its value.

As they worked their way down the river, they could see the slaves off in the distance, working the farms for their slave owners, to sell at market and further their own life style. Many of these farms offered food and tributes that asked to be left alone as the army passed through in what was obvious a well-established system in the area, no doubt from the long wars over the place.

The whole process sickened Brynden to the core, making Brynden miss the halls of his home in the Riverlands.

It took a week of marching before the first reports of the enemy halting reached them. The Tyroshi forces had gathered behind the walls of River Wood, a large village located on the Orange River, surrounded by stone walls that provided ample protection for the Tyroshi that they would likely be able to ward off any attacks by the Volantene's if they decided to attack.

It was here that they had made camp outside the village and opposing forces, slaves working to set up fortifications around the camp to defend against an unlikely attack. Brynden had been summoned to the war tent along with a number of the nobles from Westeros.

Arriving outside the large tent, Brynden was bid to enter, where they found the blond haired looking Valyrian resting on cushions on a raised dais a number of men seated around the area.

"Ser Brynden." The Valyrian man greeted with a smile from his resting position. Around him on the dais were a number of scantily clad bed slaves, holding fans to keep him cool and waiting on him hand and foot.

"Commander Vargeo. You wished to see us?" Brynden asked, getting straight to the point. The less amount of time he had to spend with the slaver, the better.

"You Westerosi are always so blunt and quick to business!" The Valyrian man said with a laugh, as the sell swords around him laughed along with him. "Please, take a seat, enjoy the moment, our victory is at hand." The man waved gracefully through the hall as the slaves proceeded forward, handing the awaiting Westerosi men drinks on silver platters.

"The battle is yet to be won." Brynden pointed out, ignoring the offered wine before him. He didn't really care what the Valyrian thought of him. He knew the people of the Free Cities largely viewed the Westerosi as uncivilized barbarians, which didn't bother Brynden one bit. The fact of the matter was, they may even be right in this instance as he turned his gaze towards Lord Crowl, who had accepted the drink readily and chugged it down, letting out a large burp to draw attention to himself.

The Valyrian man stared at Baldur with a mix of disgust and fascination, as if looking over a particularly revolting tool of use. The Stone Lord seemed none the wiser to the fact as he and his kin took a few more drinks, oblivious to the tension within the room between Brynden and the Valyrian slaver. "Skagosi." Brynden muttered, shaking his head.

He had grown use to the Crowl Lord over the trip. He was a man of great martial prowess, one Brynden wouldn't look forward to facing in a one on one fight. While the man was a bit uncivilized, he was also very straight forward and likely didn't understand the concept of having a hidden agenda or double speak. He was here to kill who the King told him to kill and did it for the good of his people. Brynden could respect his openness, if nothing else.

Though the Crowl Lord had a certain likeability to him and he wasn't simply a hired killer. He held a strong loyalty to Lord Stark that was clear enough, often saying how the man had done much for the Skagossi and given them a chance. He was generally a jovial man, enjoying telling stories, drinking with the men and laughing about fond tales.

The giant of a man has a great pride in his martial abilities though and on a number of occasions, had smashed any challenges presented to him by Volantene soldiers and sell swords boasting of their prestige in battle. This caused a bit of unrest in the camp of late over injured pride and the Skagosson's boasting of victory.

"So you are the barbarian everyone is talking about, certainly a large specimen." The Valyrian man said sitting up as Brynden and many others tensed at the insult. "I heard you defeated a number of men." Vargeo added in fascination.

"Aye." Baldur said as he helped himself to a piece of meat, speaking between bites. "Couldn't refuse the challenge, especially when they seemed so sure of themselves." Baldur boasted with a laugh.

"Indeed, you are a fine specimen. You would do well in the fighting pits, should you ever wish fortune." Vargeo informed him with a smile. The insult was clear for everyone present with the exception of the large Skagosi man. The Valyrians saw the Westerosi as so poor that even a Lord would do better for himself being a common pit fighter.

"Well, if what I have seen so far from the competition, it would indeed be fruitful." The Skagosi replied back as the men around him laughed, causing the Valyrian man to scowl.

"Enough." Brynden stated, stepping forward and causing a number of swords to be drawn. "Tell us the plan." he insisted, staring at the commander.

Vargeo waved off the guards who had drawn sword as he stood to his feet. "Very well, we shall get to business then. Our fleets have fended off any attempts by the Tyrosh and Myr and with the land we have captured here, we expect a favorable agreement is inevitable if we hold our ground and wait." The slaver informed them.

"So we sit here until the magisters come to their senses, lovely." Brynden replied bitterly. He was hoping to see home before the year was out, though that seemed unlikely as of right now.

"Why settle on waiting for favorable conditions?" Baldur spoke up again as the slavers purple eyes turned back towards him.

"Because, that is how it works in Essos." Vargeo explained slowly, as if speaking to someone dim, causing the Free City captains around him to laugh.

"Would taking the town not force conditions quicker and prove far more favorable?" Baldur pried.

"It would, but in case you haven't noticed, they are in a fortified position behind strong walls that would surely break our forces if we attempted to storm them, resulting in this dispute dragging out even longer and my good name suffering." The Valyrian snapped in impatience.

"What if we were to gain access to the town and open the gates for you? What would that do for your good name?" Baldur questioned as the Valyrian man eyed him thoughtfully.

"It would do quite well for my name. Though it is too risky, I will not be sacrificing my army in hopes to gain access to the town and open the gates." He said decisively.

"Then let my men do it. If we fail, we die and you lose nothing." Baldur stated with a shrug. "Surely this would force a conclusion to the Trade Dispute and see us returning home?" He questioned.

"That or dead." Vargeo mused, obviously seeing both options as a good thing. "Very well, you and your men have my permission to try. If you should succeed, it will certainly ensure your return quickly and both our parties satisfied." Vargeo said brightly.

"If we succeed, the slaves in the city go free with us, as well as any loot." Brynden countered.

"I will not have all of you attempting to storm the town that would surely tip the scales in the event of your death." Vargeo pointed out.

"Just me. My men will remain here to ensure that you keep your word when the gates are opened. Now, what of the terms? A victory here would surely mean a lot for your image back in Volantis." He pressed as Vargeo hummed to himself in thought.

"Very well Blackfish, you have yourself a deal. The riches and slaves of the city will be yours in the event of success. I will even see to your safe transport and lodging along the road home." Vargeo agreed, obviously confident on winning out of either situation. Bryden though, now knew why Baldur had been so intent to set camp alongside the river by the town.

Brynden knew he was taking an unnecessary risk doing this, but he couldn't help himself. The first rule of war was to ensure your enemy got nothing they wanted and while Brynden couldn't prevent that, he could wipe that superior looking smirk off the man's face and free a good number of slaves while he was at it.

Hoster would likely call it a foolish move, but with the amount of slaves and coin he gained by this, even his brother would likely grudgingly accept it.