(P.s. quick refresher: Ser Benjicot Stark is the head of the Starks of White Harbor, a merchant branch of House Stark who descend from Artos the Implacable's second son, Benjen. Ser Torrhen Stark, Alaric's father figure and the man whose death kicked this whole conflict off, was Benjicot's younger brother.
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[The Sunset Sea, 6th Moon, 299 AC]
Benjicot Stark had spent enough of his life at sea to know when a fleet was being watched.
Nothing moved openly against them. No Ironborn longship came close enough to trade arrows, no sail lingered long enough to be identified with certainty, and the fishing boats they passed either fled toward shore or lowered their sails and waited nervously for the northern banners to move on. Even so, the reports kept coming from every direction, each one describing a few more missing ships, another coastal village stripped of food, or dark sails seen offshore before vanishing west again.
Balon Greyjoy was testing the coast, and Benjicot had no intention of allowing himself to be tested into stupidity.
He stood near the stern rail of the Winter Wolf, watching the northern fleet push south beneath a grey sky while spray struck the hull and blew across the deck. The sea was rough enough to keep the sailors busy but nowhere near rough enough to concern him. He had spent more years aboard ships than some of the younger men in Alaric's army had spent alive. The White Harbor Starks had made their wealth through the sea long before Alaric began expanding northern trade, and Benjicot had commanded merchant convoys, armed escorts, and fighting ships through weather worse than this.
The fleet around him was larger than anything his branch of House Stark had possessed when he was young.
Years of investment had produced broad northern warships, armed merchantmen, escorts, supply cogs and heavier Manderly vessels built to remain at sea longer than the longships of the Iron Islands. Some were slow compared with Ironborn ships, but they sat higher in the water, carried more archers, and had enough deck space for armored men to fight without tripping over rowers.
His eldest son, Cregard, had understood the merchant side better than anyone. Marriage to Wynafryd Manderly had tied him even more closely to White Harbor, and whatever children came from that union would carry the Manderly name. Harlon, meanwhile, had chosen the road south with Alaric and the rest of that pack of young pups who had grown up together in Winterfell.
Benjicot had not objected.
Someone had to carry the Stark name of their branch forward, and with Cregard bound to the Manderlys, the merchant company, ships and sea-based ventures would eventually fall largely to Harlon.
Assuming the boy came home.
Benjicot pushed the thought away before it settled too deeply, not wishing to dwell on the mortality of his own son. He had already buried a brother due to those damned Lannisters, he would rather die than suffer the pain of burying his own son.
Despite his worries, Benjicot ultimately knew his son was in the best place he could be. All who stand beside Alaric find glory one way or another, it seems, from the ravens and stories they've been hearing of the western campaign as of late.
He then turned his head as the sound of boots on wood came near, spotting Lord Jason Mallister crossing the deck toward him, moving with the easy balance of another man who had spent much of his life aboard ships. The head of House Mallister had joined Benjicot's fleet two days earlier with vessels from Seagard, bringing more experienced sailors, fresh reports from the coast, and a blunt refusal to treat the Ironborn as anything less than a serious enemy.
Benjicot appreciated that.
Too many men who had never fought them spoke as though Ironborn were little more than thieves with axes.
Jason stopped beside him.
"You have been staring west for the better part of an hour. Either you have finally spotted something, or you are trying to will something into appearing, Stark."
"I am considering whether Balon means to strike somewhere specific or simply keep throwing small parties at us until one finds an opening."
Jason rested his hands on the rail. "Both, most likely. He will want us chasing every report until the fleet is divided, but he will also have targets in mind already. Flint's Finger is obvious. Deepwood gives him a foothold farther north. Seagard has always tempted them, though I would be surprised if Balon made that his first serious attempt."
"Because you are ready."
"Indeed, he knows we are ready, and he would be a greater fool than I thought him if he aimed for Seagard first. Balon is many things, but he remembers the last rebellion. He knows exactly which walls broke his men then, along with who it was that slew his beloved heir."
Benjicot glanced toward him. "You think he has learned from it?"
Jason gave a humorless laugh. "I think Victarion learned from it. I think that whoreson, Euro, probably learned more than either of them. All Balon Greyjoy may have learned was that Robert Baratheon had more men."
Benjicot looked back across the water.
The latest letter from Benjen Stark sat folded inside his cabin. Benjen had written from the Twins, where he was coordinating northern logistics and communication with the riverlords. He had advised Benjicot to keep the fleet concentrated, avoid chasing individual raiding parties too far out to sea, and use the Mallisters as a southern anchor while northern coastal houses maintained their own watches.
Benjicot had agreed with almost every word.
"Benjen wrote again before we left the last anchorage," he said. "Four pages explaining why I should not divide the fleet every time a fisherman sees a black sail."
Jason glanced over. "Sensible."
"He is a distant cousin who spends most of his time on land. I reserve the right to resent sensible naval advice from him."
Jason laughed. "Does he know that?"
"He knows enough of our kin to assume it."
Jason laughed for a moment before asking, "What else did he say?"
"That Tallhart has reinforced the western approaches to Torrhen's Square, Deepwood has pulled exposed villagers closer to the castle, and the Flints have men watching every useful landing along their coast. He also says Seagard is prepared to coordinate with us, which I suppose makes this conversation official."
"It was official when my ships joined yours."
"You southron lords do love paperwork."
The two men shared a laugh for a moment before they heard a shout from higher on the mast.
"Signal sail west!"
Benjicot turned immediately.
One of the faster northern scouts was coming toward them under hard sail. A red pennant flew beneath the direwolf banner.
Enemy sighted.
The entire stern deck changed within moments. Men who had been leaning against rails straightened. Officers moved toward their assigned positions. Sailors began checking lines they had checked minutes earlier.
Jason watched the scout approach.
"How many do you think?"
"I would rather hear the man who counted them."
"Still stubborn."
"I was born that way, being a Stark and all."
The scout vessel closed enough for her captain to shout across the water.
"Longships sighted southwest! Twenty-six counted, perhaps more behind! Moving toward the coast!"
Benjicot cupped both hands around his mouth.
"Did they see you?"
"Aye!"
"Did they turn?"
"No, m'lord! The squid bastards kept their course!"
Benjicot lowered his hands and looked toward Jason.
"They do not know the full fleet is here."
"Or they believe twenty-six longships are enough."
"Then I am happy to correct them," Benjicot said, a wolfish grin spreading
Jason studied the coast, then the heavier northern ships farther east, before turning toward his companion. "What are you thinking?" he asked, noticing Benjicot had gone quiet
"The headland will hide most of our center if we move now. Keep the quicker escorts visible with several Mallister ships and draw the Ironborn toward them. When they commit, the heavier ships come back around and cut their retreat." Benjicot replied, laying out his plan
Jason considered it, saying, "The longships will turn faster than anything you have in the heavy line."
"Aye, I'm aware."
"If you show the larger ships too soon, we gain nothing beyond scaring them west. And if you wait too long, the visible ships become a boarding fight before support reaches them."
Benjicot looked at him. "Jason, I have been commanding ships since before some of your younger captains could grow beards. You are welcome to tell me when my plan is foolish, but you need not explain that water remains wet."
Jason laughed.
"Fair enough. I like the plan."
"Much better," Benjicot said, turning toward his signal officer. "Move the heavy ships behind the headland. Keep six northern escorts and three Mallister ships with the Winter Wolf. No one fires until the Ironborn are well inside range, and no captain breaks formation trying to take a prize."
The orders passed by flags and horns and within moments and the ships began to turn. The heavier ships disappeared gradually behind the headland. The remaining vessels spread just enough to look like a patrol that had been caught in the wrong place.
Then they waited. The first Ironborn sail appeared not long afterward. Benjicot counted them as they came into view, numbering twenty-eight in total.
Jason stood beside him again. "Your scout missed two, Stark."
"He was moving away from them while counting. I can forgive him for the slight blunder."
"How generous of you," he chuckled
The longships came forward in a loose line, their sails dark against the grey horizon. Drums began sounding as they approached, giving the rowers a steady rhythm.
Benjicot saw several northern sailors look toward the noise.
He raised his voice without turning. "If those drums frighten anyone, remember the men beating them are rowing toward a larger ship because they think we are too stupid to put up a good fight against them on the sea. Prove them wrong, you bastard!"
A few men laughed while more roared in challenge to the incoming squids, the pounding of drums growing louder.
The Ironborn ships then began to spread wider.
"They mean to come around the flanks," Jason said.
"Aye."
Benjicot ordered two escorts inward before the crescent could close.
The first wave of Ironborn arrows came and fell short while the second volley struck hull and deck, though most did little damage.
Benjicot waited until he could make out faces beneath the shields on the nearest longship. "Archers at the ready," he ordered, as bowstrings tightened along the raised deck. "Wait until they are close enough that even the worst shot aboard can hit something."
One of the archers laughed nervously as the Ironborn ships began growing closer and closer.
Benjicot kept watching the distance, then he lifted his hand. "Loose, send these damned squids to their oh-so beloved drowned god," he ordered, his voice being followed by the twang of dozens of bows releasing missiles
The first northern volley fell hard across the leading longships.
The height difference immediately showed its value. Ironborn shields protected the men standing at the rails, but rowers and fighters packed behind them had less cover. Several men dropped across benches while another pitched over the side.
The crossbows then fired next, many striking true and finding Ironborn throats and piercing through boiled leather and chainmail alike.
It wasn't long before the Ironborn answered with their own arrows as their ships kept coming.
Jason moved closer. "They have committed."
Benjicot nodded toward the signalman. "Three horns," he said, as the sound rolled over the water. For several moments nothing happened. Then the first heavy northern ship cleared the headland.
A Manderly banner snapped above her, followed by another that appeared behind it, followed by two more broad ships carrying Stark colors. The Ironborn noticed almost immediately. Drums changed rhythm. Captains shouted across decks. One longship began turning west before another crossed behind it and forced both to slow.
Benjicot smiled. "They understand now."
Jason drew his sword. "They still need to survive the lesson."
The nearest longship struck the Winter Wolf moments later. The impact threw several men sideways, and grappling hooks came over the rail before the deck stopped shifting beneath them.
Ironborn climbed immediately, and Benjicot drew his sword and moved toward the rail.
He had fought enough engagements atop a ship's deck to know that skill mattered less once twenty men were packed into a space meant for ten. There was no room for elegant sword work. Men shoved, stabbed, slipped, and struck at whatever body came close enough.
The first Ironborn over the side took a northern spear through the chest. The second hacked the spear shaft apart and climbed over his body.
Benjicot met him with his sword and drove the point beneath the man's arm.
Another came behind.
An axe struck Benjicot's blade hard enough to jar his shoulder. He stepped inside the next swing, hit the man across the mouth with his pommel, then thrust through the gap beneath his shield.
Nearby, Jason Mallister fought with two of his household men.
"Cut those hooks!" Benjicot shouted.
"We are trying!" one sailor yelled back.
"Then try before they bring another ship alongside!"
The sailor answered with a battle roar, stabbing an Ironborn who made it over the hull, only to fall back into the sea.
It wasn't long before one hook came loose, followed by more, as the northern sailors cut rope after rope.
An Ironborn fighter then climbed over the rail near Jason and swung wildly. Jason caught the blow on his shield, shoved the man backward, and cut across his thigh.
Benjicot finished him before he recovered, sword blade piercing through his throat.
Jason looked at him and grumbled, "I had him."
"So did I." Benjicot shrugged with a cheeky grin
"Then I suppose we both feel cheated."
The final rope parted then, falling with the scream of the Ironborn sailor who was climbing it.
The longship then began drifting away from the Winter Wolf, and the northern archers returned to the rail almost immediately, firing down into its exposed deck.
Benjicot stepped back far enough to see the wider battle.
The trap had worked.
Several Ironborn ships had escaped the first attempt to close around them, but many others found northern heavy vessels between themselves and open water. One longship had been rammed along the side and was taking water, while another burned near the stern with its men jumping overboard.
The Ironborn were indeed dangerous whenever they managed to grapple a ship, but they no longer controlled the engagement, and it was only within an hour that the surviving raiders were breaking west.
Benjicot chose not to pursue, which surprised several of his younger captains when the signal went out.
It did not surprise Jason. "Good," the Mallister lord said as they watched the longships retreat. "Chasing them would scatter us."
"I know, my gracious lord."
"I was agreeing with you, Ser."
"Truly? I am not used to such a notion."
Jason laughed and sheathed his sword.
By sunset, they had captured eleven longships and destroyed another six. The rest had escaped, while the northern fleet had lost one smaller escort and suffered serious damage to three other ships. Fifty-eight men were confirmed dead, with more wounded badly enough that the number would likely rise.
Benjicot walked the deck while the bodies were being gathered. He stopped beside a young archer laid beneath a wool blanket.
He knew the face but not the name. Ser Marlon Manderly came up behind him, having led the Manderly detachment of ships. "Halder Stone. His mother works near the fish market outside the Wolf's Den," he recounted
Benjicot looked down at Halder, and Marlon waited beside him. After a while, Benjicot said, "His mother will not care that we took eleven ships."
"No, I suppose she will not."
"She will want to know why he died."
Marlon looked toward the captured longships. "Because those men sailed east to raid his home."
"And because I chose to fight them here."
"Bah, stow that talk, Benny, you'll sully his service."
Benjicot glanced at him, surprised by his words.
Marlon then continued. "Do not become one of those commanders who believes every dead man belongs entirely to his own fault. My father used to say that sort of guilt becomes vanity if a man is not careful. You gave the order, but the Ironborn chose to come."
"Aye, you're right, I suppose I didn't quite think through the sheer magnitude of war, having grown accustomed to one-sided conflicts against petty pirates and the occasional wildling who learned how to sail. Benjicot gave him a tired smile before grumbling. "You and Mallister have spent this voyage conspiring to lecture me, haven't you?"
"We agreed it was necessary."
"I knew it."
Marlon smiled. "We found a prisoner worth speaking to."
Benjicot nodded as they went toward the man they would speak to. The Ironborn captain called himself Qarl Botley. His wrists were bound, his mail removed, and blood had dried beneath one ear. He looked at the captured longships tied under northern guard and then at Benjicot.
"You hide well for wolves," he spat, his blood and spit barely reaching his boots.
Benjicot simply looked down lazily at the poor attempt, and moved to sit on an overturned barrel while Jason stood nearby. "What can I say, dear squid, you row badly for men supposedly born for it."
Qarl smiled without humor. "We were merely a raiding party."
"I know. That is why I am asking about the fleet behind you."
The man's smile faded slightly as Benjicot continued.
"Balon has been probing our coast for weeks. Fishing vessels vanishing, small parties landing on northern soil, only for them to leave before the levies can arrive. That tells me he wants us stretched thin before he commits real strength. So tell me, where is Victarion gathering?"
Qarl spat once again, this time striking Jason in the face.
"Seriously, you sea-brained bastard, you could've aimed at my boot as you did with Ser Benjicot Jason groaned, wiping the blood off of his face with a cloth.
"You greenlanders think yourselves clever because you won one fight."
Benjicot leaned forward, looking him in the eye and saying, "No. I think we won because you sailed into a trap. Whether I am clever has nothing to do with it. What matters is that twenty-eight longships came toward a coast Balon believes weak, and you just admitted this was only a raiding party. That means the real fleet is somewhere behind you."
Qarl's face tightened as Benjicot asked once again, "Has Victarion sailed already?"
The prisoner said nothing.
"He has then, hasn't he. The old bastards must fancy himself king of the squids once again, too, then"
Qarl laughed. "Seems like you lot don't know shit, silence has made your feeble greenlander minds run wild, huh?"
Benjicot looked at him again, lazily saying, "I have questioned merchants who lie better than you." He waited a moment, then continued. "Does Asha support the invasion?"
That drew a clearer reaction, something he wasn't completely sure would matter, but it seemed their intel about a growing divide within the house of the squids was true.
"She opposed it, didn't she?"
"You know nothing of Balon's daughter."
"I know she has more sense than her father, although that can't be said for much."
Qarl lunged forward before the guards stopped him. "The kraken will take what the wolf left undefended. Your king took his strength south to fight lions while your western coast sits open."
Benjicot nodded, all serious like before, but he couldn't keep up the facade any longer, breaking out into a small fit of laughter at the idiocy of Balon Greyjoy.
Qarl frowned at that, no doubt confused as to why the northerner in front of him was laughing at the mention of his lands being plundered.
"Balon truly believes the North is empty, that is priceless, truly."
"He knows that your wolf pup king marched south in strength."
"He knows the number Alaric marched with, now does he, hah. Now it's all but confirmed, he hasn't a clue what remained behind. Truly, this has been a good laugh, squid."
Qarl sneered. "Old men, boys and farmers, nothing more, no one left of worth, I reckon."
"Aye, but he also left behind ships, and tell me, just how do you think we sail those ships if he left behind only those who were of no worth?"
The prisoner looked toward the captured longships, realization dawning on him.
Then Benjicot asked a question that had been on his mind ever since the first Ironborn sighting had been reported, "Theon Greyjoy is still at Winterfell. Does Balon not care what happens to him?"
Qarl shrugged.
The gesture was casual, far too casual for discussing the likely execution of his lords only living son and heir.
Jason looked at Benjicot as the two understood what that meant immediately.
"Apparently not," he grimly chuckled
"Theon chose wolves, if he truly was of Ironborn stock, he would've carved your wolf-king's heart out and escaped back to the islands."
"He was but a child when Balon surrendered him," Benjicot said with disgust
"That matters little to us, he is no Ironborn now."
Benjicot stared at him for several seconds before sighing and motioning for the guards. "Take him below. Keep him apart from the other prisoners."
As the guards turned him away, Qarl called back. "Victarion will find you soon enough, Stark. When the real fleet comes, you will wish you had stayed in White Harbor counting coins."
Benjicot looked toward him. "Tell Victarion that when we release you."
Qarl laughed.
Benjicot added, "If he lives long enough to release you, that is."
That ended the laughter.
The guards then took him below, and Jason waited until the hatch closed to speak. "Asha Greyjoy objected, Victarion has sailed, and Balon considers Theon expendable. Not bad for a man determined to tell us nothing."
A lookout called from above before either could continue. "Sails spotted to the west!"
Benjicot turned, and at first, all he saw was the darkening water, but then the sails began to appear.
One grew into five, and five grew into a dozen, as their number kept increasing
The lookout called again.v"More than thirty already, Ser! Still counting!"
Jason stepped to the rail. "That would likely be Victarion."
Benjicot watched the line continue spreading across the western horizon.
His own fleet had wounded aboard, damaged rigging, and three ships that needed protection if another battle began soon.
He also had the fleet together, sitting in prime position for an encirclement.
"If that is Victarion, he knows a fight happened here. Some of the raiders escaped, and he will have seen smoke. He may try to draw us west instead of coming straight on. He may also send part of his force north while keeping enough in front of us to hold our attention."
Jason gave him a sideways look. "Then I assume you are not planning to chase the first ship that turns away."
Benjicot smiled. "Benjen would write another four pages of letters admonishing me."
"That alone should stop you."
Benjicot laughed, then turned toward the signal officer. "Close the fleet. Damaged vessels to the center, stronger ships around them. Nobody chases anything once darkness falls, and I do not care if Victarion himself sails close enough to wave at us."
The officer nodded and moved.
"Send one fast ship north," Benjicot continued. "Get word to the nearest raven tower and from there to Winterfell. Tell them the probing is finished and a major Ironborn fleet is now at sea. Send another south to Seagard with the same message, and make certain the coastal houses understand that any small raid from this point forward may be meant to draw men away from the main attack."
The first signal horns sounded across the northern fleet. Ships began drawing closer as evening settled over the sea. Benjicot remained at the rail, watching more Ironborn sails appear in the distance. The raids were over. Balon had finally committed enough strength to make his intentions plain.
Benjicot had spent weeks waiting for that, and now he knew where at least part of the enemy fleet was, and he had no intention of throwing away that advantage simply because Victarion Greyjoy wanted him to bite on an obvious trap.
Author's Note:
Hey guys, in my opinion this wasn't one of my best chapters, but I needed to get the ball rolling on the Ironborn side of the conflict. But fret not, next chapter will see us back with Lucion and Alaric in the west!