Seventh Moon of 269
Outskirts of Lannisport
A day after his arrival, the army of the Riverlands arrived, led—from what Alaric had overheard—by the Blackfish, Brynden Tully. By the end of the same day, thirty Dornish ships pulled in, commanded by the Prince Consort Albin Martell.
During the Dornishmen's deployment, as they wandered in search of a campsite, Alaric noticed Andrey vanish from sight for a while, only returning to roam the camp once the Dornish had settled and established their position.
Two days later, ships sporting black sails and red three-headed dragons appeared on the horizon on the following morning. The Royal Fleet, carrying the two most important people in Westeros, had arrived at Lannisport. And it was massive. Easily over a hundred ships, the majority being war caravels and featuring a Dromond, giving Alaric a clear understanding of just how fucked the Ironborn were.
The Royal Fleet was not alone. Accompanying it, bringing a fleet of thirty caravels, were the Stormlands, led by Steffon Baratheon.
Lannisport, prepared for their arrival, had cleared its harbors of the Reach ships to accommodate the Royal Fleet and received them with a grand ceremony, attended by all members of the Great Houses present—Brynden Tully, Albin Martell, Steffon Baratheon, and Luthor Tyrell. All this to welcome Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name, and Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and Warden of the West.
Alaric remained in the camp, so he didn't see the ceremony. However, according to Andrey—who had recovered from his shock and the realization that neither could rat the other out without exposing himself—he had managed to enter Lannisport. He spoke incessantly about how Aerys, wearing flashy armor resembling a dragon, gave a speech to everyone at the port, declaring he would personally lead the Royal Fleet against Pyke and end the rebels, bringing the Iron Islands back under the control of the Iron Throne.
In Andrey's words:
"All of this is so exaggerated and unnecessary. We are nearly at winter; why the hell are they moving over three hundred ships and ten thousand men against the Ironborn? Mark my words, 'Garren,' when this is all over and winter hits, the absence of these men planting the fields and the grain spent to keep them fed will be severely felt. This circus is nothing more than an attempt to use war as a way to bolster his reign in the minds of the people."
Alaric offered no comment on his thoughts, to the lack of surprise from Andrey, who went back to unsuccessfully trying to uncover the story behind Alaric.
The next day, marking five since he arrived and seven since he left Bear Island, the Vale, led by Jon Arryn, arrived with twenty ships—a much smaller number than they could offer, but neither Alaric nor Andrey heard any criticism from the other kingdoms. This led Andrey to remark that it was because everyone knew they could finish off the Ironborn with what they already had.
"But NOOO! Our Hand of the King made it very clear in his letter that the King expected the presence of all kingdoms when they set out against the Iron Islands. What. A. Waste. And now we have to wait another week or two for the NORTH! Who don't even have a decent fleet on their western coast, gods know why... no offense."
Andrey complained again. Loudly, for everyone to hear. While both watched the houses of the Vale set up camp in the distance. And again, Alaric didn't share if he held the same thoughts, but he did give him a piece of his mind:
"If you want to criticize the royal family, do it. But don't do it by my side, especially not out loud."
To the young druid's lack of surprise, the vulture, possessing zero sense of self-preservation, continued—and loudly—forcing the druid to distance himself whenever the comments became too risky.
The vulture's dissatisfaction with the delay lasted until two days later, when the Northern fleet finally arrived. They brought Lord Rickard Stark, who informed the King—news that eventually reached the camps—that they also had a fleet of fifteen on the way that had sailed through the Stepstones.
"So they DO have a western fleet... Did you know about that? Not that it changes anything, since, by the command of our wise King, we still have to wait for the other fifteen ships to arrive. Anyway, here is your bull leather and cat fur you whined so much about."
He hadn't whined; it was a trade. Alaric gave him the money to buy the furs in Lannisport in exchange for Andrey keeping the change, which he used to buy booze—or as he called it, "The medicine for my soul that yearns for the sea."
Andrey also commented on the number of Northern ships, saying he was surprised they had so many, though he realized his assumption was correct when he discovered the vast majority were longships, capable of carrying very few people.
"That explains why they brought so few men: limitation, not common sense," Andrey commented. Once. More.
The following day, the tables turned. Alaric, much like Andrey during the arrival of the Dornish, began hiding from the Stark men. But unlike Andrey's situation, he was actually being actively hunted.
Stark men began roaming through all the camps, asking if anyone had seen a boy matching the following description:
"Twelve years of age but could easily pass for fifteen, dark hair, reserved, and skilled with a spear... Fifteen my balls, you're basically a baby. A baby who ran away from home looking for adventure," Andrey teased him after hearing the description given by the Stark men.
Lord Stark must have read the letter Maester Yves certainly sent, which must have been waiting in Lannisport for his arrival, Alaric reasoned.
Regarding Andrey's teasing, Alaric made it very clear that he'd better stop if he didn't want his own presence reported as well.
"Your secret is safe with me... little Cub," Andrey replied, sealing his upward-curving lips with his right index finger.
Four days later, having successfully avoided capture, the second Northern fleet arrived. A day after that, the anti-Iron Islands coalition set sail in the afternoon, heading first west and then north.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seventh Moon of 269
Second Day of the Voyage
Open Sea
The Hour of the Hammer (9 A.M.)
Inside a Lannister caravel, part of a massive coalition of Targaryen, Lannister, and Baratheon fleets sailing toward Pyke to take the island by force... Alaric was scrubbing the floor.
Having no experience handling masts, Ser Lyonel, the ship's captain, had tasked him with keeping the vessel clean. Beside him, Andrey did the same, but with far more anger, forcing the wood of the mop against the deck. The resulting scratches and screeching noises earned him a reprimand from the captain.
Andrey couldn't help himself. He found the work humiliating and far beneath him.
Unlike Alaric, who did his work without care. The nobility of his blood was too recent for him to care about such things. Besides, it wasn't the first time he had cleaned a ship, though it was the first made of wood and lacking proper chemicals, which made the job somewhat frustrating.
Stopping his scrubbing to stretch his aching muscles, Alaric looked toward the northern horizon and observed the sinister black sea. Instead of complaining about the floor, he worried about the water, which took on an increasingly dark hue the closer they got to Pyke.
From the conversations of the other men, he knew this wasn't the sea's normal color. The change led some to make fearful comments about the Drowned God, who supposedly protected the Iron Islands from the depths. These comments were made cautiously, as Lyonel Lannet threatened lashes for anyone repeating them, claiming "sea fantasies" were not welcome on his boat.
Knowing better—that the possibility of the Drowned God being the cause of the black sea wasn't just a fantasy—Alaric wondered, as he stared at the horizon where Pyke would eventually appear, if the Drowned God would do something to protect the Ironborn from their destruction, which would surely involve the suppression of their religion and the "Old Ways."
An immortal god... Surely he is capable of more than just communicating with followers and giving them information. He will do something. I can feel it. Just as I feel that this black sea, which does not sing in the same tone as the blue, is not natural. Alaric drifted in his mind, sensing the difference in the "song" of this sea compared to before.
The blue vastness from before sounded like "the light breath of a baby," while this new sea sounded like the breathing of someone whose lungs were filled with liquid.
Looking at the dozens of other Lannister, Targaryen, and Baratheon ships around him, he wondered if the Northern fleet—sailing for Saltcliffe with the Dornish—had encountered the same black sea, or if it was an event occurring only around Pyke. He wondered the same about the Reach fleet, carrying the Rivermen, and the Vale, sailing for Great Wyk.
OOOHHHH!
An almost inaudible sound of a horn blowing from the front of the fleet was heard.
OOOHHHH!
Another, closer, followed.
OOOHHHH!
A third blast, even closer, sounds out, followed by the kind of shout that pulls the very air from one's lungs: "Land ho!"
Pyke.
Following the lead, scores of people—both on Alaric's ship and those surrounding them—began shouting the same message and sounding their horns.
"Finally!" Andrey yelled, tossing his mop to the deck. "Time to make a name for myse—"
Before he could finish, the ship shuddered and lurched to the side as if it had struck something, throwing several men to the floor, including Andrey, who was doused in the filthy water from the bucket he had been using to scrub the deck.
"What the shit?!"
Having managed to brace himself against the ship's railing, Alaric—still standing—looked down at the water, trying to see what they had hit. But the water was so dark that nothing could be seen. Lifting his gaze to the other ships, however, he realized the same thing was happening to them.
If it were a rock, the ships in the lead would have hit it long ago and warned those of us in the rear. So what is it? Multiple ships being affected at the same time... Something like a school of giant fish? How big would a—
He stopped.
He saw something.
Near the hull of another ship that was still rocking, something black rose from beneath the surface. Rising higher still, Alaric saw one of the culprits.
Pitch black eyes; black skin that absorbed the sunlight and camouflaged with the dark sea; and wide.
Not tall, but wide.
Very wide.
Wide and strong enough to rock the ships, which was exactly what the unknown marine being did.
It's him.
"By the Seven! It's just a group of idle whales. Stop being incompetent fools and get below to the oars! The faster we reach Pyke, the further we'll be from them!" Ser Lyonel Lannett shouted as he took hurried, heavy strides toward the scorpion mounted on the prow. "Motherfucking whales. They never learn," he muttered to himself, gripping the scorpion and loading a bolt, bracing his feet against the deck so as not to fall when the ship lurched once more.
Still holding the railing as he moved toward the edge of the ship, Alaric approached Lyonel and spoke:
"Those aren't whales, Ser Lyonel."
Without diverting his gaze from the sea, waiting for one of them to surface, Lyonel asked, "What? How do you know?"
"I saw one of them. They are nothing like the whales that sometimes washed up on the beaches near the Ocean Road. These are much smaller than those, but fatter."
Giving a heavy sigh, Lyonel—still scanning the water for the creatures—replied erratically, "Not all whales are like the dead ones on your beaches, boy. Now get out of here, go row or stop our supplies from being tossed from one side to the other. Do something!"
"Whale or not, they aren't good targets! They aren't big enough. One missed shot and you'll sink a ship!"
"Seven hells!" Shouting and slamming his fist against the scorpion, Lyonel finally turned to Alaric, looking at him as if he might kill him then and there. "I know what I'm fucking doing! Just as I know I'm giving you ten lashes for insubordination after this shit! Now. FUCK OF—"
"AH!"
A cry of pain from someone beside them caught the attention of both Alaric and Lyonel, making them stop and look toward the source of the sound.
Looking at the man responsible for the scream, they saw a man known to them as Lyman turned toward them, likely watching the argument before having his torso pierced by a sword from behind.
Coughing up blood, Lyman tried to step forward, but he was kicked by the assailant first, sending him sprawling to the deck. This gave Alaric and Lyonel a clear view of the culprit.
Dressed in rags, torn by its own hulking frame; skin covered almost entirely in green scales; mouth slightly agape due to a dental arch that resembled a collection of knives; dead fish-eyes that did not reflect the sunlight; and a slightly hunched spine. It was very clear that this thing was not human—but that, at the same time, it might have been once.
Witnessing that being, it was as if all the noise of the surrounding chaos vanished, the realization hitting that they were no longer the main actors on the stage. This applied not only to Alaric and Lyonel, but to everyone still on deck, who stared at the monster in shock.
As the monster slowly raised its gaze from the writhing Lyman and fixed it on the two in front of him, Lyonel didn't waste a second. Quickly unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the monster, he proclaimed:
"You dare board this ship blessed by the Seven, foul beast? Die!" And he charged toward the monster.
Meanwhile, Alaric used his skill [GM EYES]:
-
Name: Kromm (22)
HP: 53 / 53
Sex: Masculine
Race: Transformed Deep One
Class: Fighter
Level: 5
Exp: 8,560 / 14,000
Ability Scores
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 16
Intelligence: 5
Wisdom: 5
Charisma: 0
-
Strong, but very stupid and slow. And since he hadn't awakened a fighter archetype, Lyonel had the advantage:
-
Name: Lyonel Lannett (32)
HP: 93 / 93
Sex: Masculine
Race: Human (Andal)
Class: Fighter
Archetype: [Locked/Hidden]
Level: 10
Exp: 79,980 / 85,000
Ability Scores
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 11
Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 11
Charisma: 10
-
Knowing that his presence there would be useless without his spear, Alaric began to run the moment Lyonel's sword clashed against the monster's.
Successfully balancing himself as the ship lurched once more, Alaric managed to enter the aftcastle where the weapons were stored. Grabbing his spear and a wooden shield, Alaric was about to head back to the deck, but first, he dashed down the stairs of the aftcastle to the hold, where dozens of men were rowing.
With several eyes turning toward him, he explained: "We're under attack! Do not stop rowing, even if you hear screams. The faster we get out of this sea, the better."
Not waiting for a response, Alaric quickly ascended the ladder, skipping several rungs on the way.
Returning to the aftcastle, he ran into Andrey grabbing his own spear. Without exchanging a single word, only a nod, both burst out onto the deck.
Returning to the fray, this time ready for combat—with Alaric wielding a spear and shield and Andrey just a spear—they were faced with three more monsters, Deep Ones that had boarded the ship and were already fighting.
-
[New Common Quest Received!]
Title: Run to Safety
Description: Reach Pyke safely.
Reward: 700 Exp
-
As Andrey moved to their left, thrusting his spear into a fish-man's ribs, Alaric did something similar, but advanced toward the Deep One still trading blows with Lyonel. The knight was finding it difficult to fight the monster while the ship continued to rock—a disadvantage his opponent did not share.
Alaric took the monster from behind, driving the tip of his spear into its right leg. The creature let out a scream unlike anything the witnesses had ever heard and buckled, creating an opening that Lyonel seized by slashing its throat, spraying blood across the deck.
-
[System Notification]
Level 5 Enemy Eliminated.
Participation Reward: +290 Exp.
6,275 / 6,500
-
More than a human would give me, Alaric instantly realized.
"Go help the others, and don't let a SINGLE one of those monsters reach the hold. Do you hear me?!" Lyonel barked as he moved past Alaric toward another Deep One that was driving its sword into a man. He didn't even give Alaric time to speak, had he wanted to.
But he didn't.
Running toward one of the three new Deep Ones that had boarded, he found it nearly killing a man who was desperately trying to protect another bleeding on the floor.
Tossing his shield at the monster's head, Alaric managed to draw its attention to himself, saving the man. The survivor took advantage of the monster's stupidity in staring at Alaric and ignoring him to plunge his sword into its chest.
The sword didn't go very deep. From what Alaric had felt when cutting the legs of the first one, it wasn't due to a lack of strength from the desperate man, but rather the monsters' muscles, which were incredibly dense.
Regardless, the monster hadn't fallen, and now it turned back to the man with intensified rage, reflected in its next attack—a full-body swinging strike.
The man, seeing the sword coming from his left but unable to wrench his own blade from the creature's chest, abandoned his weapon and ducked, narrowly dodging the blow.
The monster, again showing its low intelligence and inability to focus on two people at once—perhaps a natural trait of theirs, Alaric thought—had its neck pierced by the tip of a spear.
And since the neck muscles weren't as thick as those of the torso, the metal managed to go all the way through, despite meeting some resistance.
Now aware of the monster's high resilience, the desperate man scrambled away.
Alaric, also aware of not just its resilience but the resistance he might face when pulling his weapon out, braced his left leg against the creature's waist and pushed while simultaneously yanking the spear back, successfully retrieving it.
Staring at the Deep One, Alaric noticed that despite likely drowning in its own blood, it still tried to fight, seemingly unconscious of the severity of its wound.
But blood loss, being much more powerful than its willpower, took its toll. It collapsed, dropping its sword, yet still clawed at the deck with its hands, trying to rise.
Alaric didn't let it. He drove the spear into the back of the monster's head, making it stop for good.
-
[System Notification]
Level 3 Enemy Eliminated.
Participation Reward: +93 Exp.
6,368 / 6,500
-
With the enemy eliminated, he turned to the desperate man and pointed to the one fallen on the floor.
"Take him inside and try to stop the bleeding. If I'm available, I'll stitch him up myself later," Alaric commanded in a calm voice, as if he hadn't just killed a creature out of a nightmare.
With a nod, the man dragged his companion away, leaving Alaric behind, who finally let his mask slip a little.
Fuck. Does the Drowned God know I'm here? Is that why he sent these fish-men? Or is it just a coincidence?
Trying to stop his hand from shaking, he looked across the deck and saw Lyonel and Andrey killing another Deep One together.
Turning his head toward the other ships, he saw the reality of the situation:
Total war.
Every boat he set eyes on was either being scaled by monsters or had already been boarded, with crews desperately trying to repel them.
"I was wrong," Andrey said behind him, making him turn. "In the end, we actually did need this many ships and men. Fish-men, ha..." He trailed off with a humorless laugh.
But looking at the ships at war, Alaric could see a flame igniting in Andrey's eyes. "We are witnessing history being made. With so many witnesses to tell the tale, Westeros will never be the same… haha." He laughed, this time in a genuine, whimsical manner.
Turning to Alaric and looking him in the eye, he finished, "This is far better than anything I could have ever dreamed."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
For 6 advanced chapter, you can go to my patreon: Patreon.com/Keiondir