Seventh Moon of 269
Pyke
The Hour of the Throne (12 P.M.)
Three hours. Three more hours were needed for Alaric's ship to reach Pyke.
"One hour more than it truly needed," Alaric thought, as he finally finished rowing his boat to the shore, together with Andrey, Lyonel, and three other men named Andros, Forley, and Jace. Three more, Burton, Cedric, and Orthell, sat idle because there were no more oars.
[Mission Accomplished: Run to Safety]
[Reward: + 700 XP]
Placing his feet on the sand and breathing deeply, he looked around and watched the other men also reaching the shore. Some disembarked from their ships. Those were the ones who managed to reach Pyke first and did not get stuck behind others. Others, like Alaric, who almost reached the beach, chose to risk it while no Deep One was nearby and used one of the two boats each ship carried to row the last meters to Pyke.
Looking back, Alaric saw the chaotic and desperate sight of more than one hundred ships fighting for space. They risked crashing into their own allies while trying to pass through every narrow gap between ships. Dozens of boats rowed through the water, and some unlucky ones were pulled into the sea by the Deep Ones.
The most desperate men, who were in the rear and still under attack from the Deep Ones, no longer cared. They tried to force a path to Pyke by ramming other ships. Some ships had their wooden hulls shattered by the impact and sank. The boats were completely crushed and destroyed.
In contrast, some ships in the center, such as Alaric's, which did not reach the shore but also were not receiving much attention from the fish men, attempted a different method. Instead of risking themselves or others, they used their boarding planks to create bridges toward the nearest ships. Slowly, they created a safe path toward the beach.
Unfortunately, the desperate ships constantly crashed into them and knocked the planks away. Sometimes, this happened while men were crossing. Men rained down and sometimes fell on top of boats, which flipped from the force of the impact.
All of it, just to reach the safety of the shore.
"Alright, listen well!" Lyonel shouted and drew the attention of Alaric and the others. "Whatever those things that attacked us were—"
"Deep Ones! Like in the legends!" Forley interrupted while shouting. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was uneven. It was clear he was not handling the situation well. "Instruments of the Drowned God, sent to protect his domain."
His words attracted many looks, not only from their group but also from people farther away who were still recovering from what they had just experienced.
With a furious look, Lyonel stepped toward Forley and grabbed his water-soaked shirt. Water dripped over Lyonel's fingers as he shouted at him.
"Shut the fuck up. Did you hear me? Nobody wants or needs to hear that shit. Stop, or keep talking, and I will make sure you spend the rest of this war in the cells of Pyke."
Forley looked at Lyonel with defiance and did not back down. He pushed Lyonel's hands away and kept speaking his mind.
"WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE? Did you not see? If we barely reached here alive, then how will we leave?" Forley shouted into Lyonel's face, while Lyonel stared with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.
Andrey placed his hand on Forley's shoulder and tried to intervene. "Everyone here knows how deep in shit we are. No one denies it. Just—" but Forley shoved his hand away with his elbow.
"You are all blind. Blind. You cannot see it. We are trapped. We either die to the iron men, or we die to those monsters."
This time, Lyonel answered with a punch that knocked Forley into the sand.
Becoming the center of attention again, Lyonel spoke directly.
"Take your weapons and follow me. Anyone who tries or speaks of desertion will fall." Then he began to walk.
They retrieved their weapons from the boat, and Alaric, Andrey, Andros, Jace, Burton, Cedric, and Orthell followed Ser Lyonel Lannett. They left the unconscious Forley behind, together with the boat and the tide water that washed over him. They also left behind the sailors who could not board any of the boats.
Following Lyonel, they walked along the beach until they reached a large mass of men. The men threw complaints and demanded to return to the continent. They gathered around something, or someone.
When they noticed the huge dromond flying a sail marked with the image of a red three-headed dragon, everyone quickly understood they surrounded someone, not something. They also knew who that someone was.
Lyonel pushed forward while shouting.
"Move. Move. Ser Lyonel Lannett commands."
Their group quickly reached the other side of the crowd. Guards formed a wall that prevented the crowd from moving forward.
Unfortunately, that was also the end of the path for them.
Still with his back turned, Lyonel raised his hand and showed the back of his palm.
"Wait here."
He identified himself to the guards.
"I am Ser Lyonel of House Lannett, vassal of House Lannister."
He continued forward and left the crowd behind.
Following his path with his eyes, Alaric found another line of guards farther ahead. It was smaller, and three members wore extravagant white armor. They protected three men who appeared to be arguing with each other.
One of them towered over the other two and wore a black gambeson decorated with a stag head. He had brown hair and a broad build, not from fat but from muscle, which gathered in his arms and chest. He spoke the least and only opened his mouth occasionally. Whenever he did, the silver-haired man seemed to calm the situation. He acted as a mediator.
The other man wore yellow clothing decorated with a golden lion and was the smallest of the three. He argued with the silver-haired man but kept much more control over his emotions. He wore a mask.
The silver-haired man stood between their heights. He wore black armor and a black cloak decorated with a red three-headed dragon. He did not wear his dragon helm, which a white-armored guard held beside him. He was the only one shouting. As mentioned, the brown-haired man had to calm him before he returned to shouting again after exchanging more words with the golden-haired man.
"Steffon Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and Aerys Targaryen," Alaric recognized them. He was not the only one.
"The stag, the lion, and the dragon," Andrey whispered beside him.
"Do not you dare…" Alaric whispered back, without taking his eyes off the three old friends.
"I know, I know. I am not foolish enough to say something provocative so close to His Grace and his guard," Andrey assured him.
"Hey…" he called again.
"What do you think they are talking about? They look a little stressed. I wonder why. This war is going great, don't you think?" he continued with a smile.
For Alaric, the war truly was going great. He helped kill four more Deep Ones on the way there and gained 448 experience. He completed his mission to reach Pyke and gained another 700. He now had 7516 / 6500 experience and was ready to level up. However, he did not want to waste the recovery bonus, so he saved it for a better moment.
Still, he did not wish to encourage Andrey's teasing, so he said nothing. Instead, he looked toward Lyonel, who approached one of the two white-armored guards of the inner line and spoke with him.
The guard answered.
"Gwayne Gaunt, member of the Kingsguard. That is who Lyonel is speaking with," Andrey revealed when he saw Alaric looking at him.
Gwayne Gaunt gave an answer and nodded toward the right, where a small group of six men stood together. Lyonel nodded and walked toward them and joined them.
By studying the adornments of the men's clothes, it was clear the group came from many regions. Nobles from the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and the Iron Islands stood together.
The green turtle of House Estermont. The griffins of House Connington. The silver ships on white of House Farman. The silver seahorse of House Velaryon. Seven white shields on a red third of House Darklyn. The squid of House Greyjoy.
'Quellon Greyjoy…' Alaric concluded.
As time passed, the crowd kept growing and became more anxious. It became harder and harder for the guards to hold the line.
"What are we still doing here?!" one man shouted.
"I did not join to fight demons!" another added.
"We must leave while we still can before the iron men attack us!" another finished.
A few more minutes, and they would trample the guards.
The three old friends finally finished their argument, after one last shout from Aerys, and began walking toward the furious crowd.
Surrounded by guards, who held the pommels of their swords—especially the white-armored guard who held the king's helm and walked beside him—Aerys announced:
"WE WILL NOT RETURN!"
He shouted at the crowd, while spitting in his fury, and his face turned red.
"After we regroup, we will attack Pyke and use it as our base for the rest of the war. Any coward who wants to flee will have to swim, because I will not allow anyone to take MY SHIPS!"
His words had a powerful effect. The crowd erupted in fury and shouted complaints and threats that they would steal a ship if needed. Aerys grew even redder.
"I AM YOUR KING, AND YOU WILL DO AS I COMMAND!"
The red king shouted, but his voice was drowned by the hundreds in the crowd.
Looking around, Alaric saw more and more people arriving. The beach filled and became an endless sea of people—people who were furious and growing dangerous thoughts against the king.
"It seems the realm will lose a king today!" Andrey shouted to him. He had to shout to be heard.
"It seems so!"
Alaric could not disagree. Watching Aerys continue to exchange shouts with the crowd, and seeing how his guards were becoming restless, gripping the pommels of their swords harder and harder, it was clear that something very bad—something that would enter history—would happen if this continued.
Fortunately for the king, he had competent people who still had much more to gain with him alive.
"LISTEN TO ME!" a voice unknown to Alaric announced.
Turning toward the source, he saw Tywin, who had stepped forward toward the crowd, placing himself in front of Aerys and drawing attention to himself.
"As compensation for the unforeseen situation, everyone will have their wages tripled! And for every head of those monsters presented, thirty gold dragons will be given as reward!"
Money—that was the way to influence them, something the crown and House Lannister had in excess.
Looking at the faces of the people around him, he could see some of them considering it. It was understandable. The smallfolk, the overwhelming majority of Westeros, earned less than a gold dragon per year, which meant that just one head of a Deep One could give them a comfortable life for years, while three or four could sustain them for the rest of their lives.
But Tywin did not stop there.
"And for the first ten men who manage to enter Pyke, I myself will reward each of them with ten thousand gold dragons EACH! As well as the title of knight. And for those who are already knights, their own lands in the Westerlands!"
His new words seemed to convince the crowd even more, making the noise decrease a little as some of those shouting fell silent to think about what that meant.
Even Alaric and Andrey found themselves drawn to the offer.
"Ten thousand... that is a lot," Andrey commented, and Alaric internally agreed.
"That is far more than House Mormont makes in a year. And the title of knight would make me the youngest knight in history, bringing renown to House Mormont, which, combined with the fact that Jorah acquired a second Valyrian steel sword for our house, puts me closer to fulfilling the renown requirement. And those ten thousand would also be very useful to accomplish the requirement of rebuilding Bear Island."
While Alaric considered the implications, the system placed the final point on the matter of whether he should try to be one of the first ten to enter Pyke.
[New Common Quest Received!]
[Title: All or Nothing]
[Description: Be one of the first ten to invade Pyke]
[Reward: 300]
[New Common Quest Received!]
[Title: First in history]
[Description: Help to conquer Pyke]
[Reward: 500 to 1.500]
'Done'
But, with a large majority still unconvinced, the shouting continued, with some furious men saying Tywin could shove his gold up his ass.
Amid the cries that their lives were worth more than gold, Steffon Baratheon stepped forward with a long religious speech. He spoke of how they were not there by chance, that it was no coincidence that, just when the Seven Kingdoms united to finally punish the iron men, monsters from the legends of the Drowned God attacked them.
After laying that foundation, he presented his theory. This was not a common war between men, but a war between gods. He explained with great fervor that the gods, old and new, had clearly gathered Westeros for something greater—to end the Drowned Faith. That they, just like the first Andals who arrived in Westeros, must carry out a second coming of the Andals upon the Iron Islands. He then asked the crowd if they would fail the gods—the Seven: the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Warrior, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger.
Amid shouts of denial, Steffon then ordered them to board the dromond and take the ladders and the ram, because Pyke would fall today.
Through his Insight and GM EYES, which allowed him to see Steffon's charisma of sixteen, Alaric realized it was all nonsense. He did not believe a word he was saying. But it did not matter, because he had won the crowd, which now shouted for the new gods.
"Our king is very lucky to have competent people to clean his mess," Andrey commented, clearly surprised.
Alaric did not answer, but internally agreed, together with the feeling that this idea of holy war would bring problems in the future for Westeros. And, looking at the worried face of Quellon, he was not the only one.
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After the siege ladders and the ram were unloaded, it did not take long for the march of four thousand men to begin. There were many more men who had not joined them, more than five thousand, but the command was that they had to move quickly before the iron men decided to begin hit-and-run tactics with archers.
Tywin then ordered those who stayed behind to arrange the ships around all of Pyke, placing them in shallow water, far from the monsters, and in easy access for later.
After more than thirty minutes, Alaric, who was in the vanguard of the army, holding a siege ladder with several other men, ready to be one of the first to invade Pyke, finally saw it.
On three different tall stone towers that rose from the sea, three great fortresses stood at the top of each one, connected by a series of bridges.
Pyke easily took the first place as the most fantastic place Alaric had ever witnessed.
"Like almost all fortresses of Westeros, Pyke must exist for hundreds of years, and it still has not collapsed under its own weight. Perhaps there is magic involved," Alaric thought while looking at the holes in the stone tower that supported the castle.
Approaching the small fortress that defended the entrance of the stone bridge connecting the mainland to the first tower, Aerys shouted:
"Halt!"
Turning toward the king, who rode a horse, Alaric saw he was not only surrounded by his guard, Tywin, and Steffon, but also by Quellon Greyjoy, who were all riding their own horses. Quellon spoke something to him, which made Aerys grimace.
Quellon had said something the king disapproved of. Fortunately for Quellon, Tywin said something that made Aerys think and nod. In the next moment, Quellon kicked his horse and rode alone toward the fort.
"He will try to make them surrender," Andrey, who stood behind, also holding the ladder, explained.
"I know."
"He will fail," Andrey bet with an eager tone.
"Maybe."
"I hope he fails," Andrey revealed his wish.
"... I hope so."
After reaching the fortress gate, Quellon began speaking with a man who appeared at the top of the wall. After a few exchanged words, the man above, as if hearing Andrey's wish, ended the conversation with his former liege by raising a bow, aiming an arrow at him, and shooting.
"Fuck yeah!" Andrey let out a suppressed shout when he saw the scene.
To the shooter's misfortune, Quellon managed to dodge and turned his horse, riding back toward the army.
Not waiting for Quellon to return, Steffon, who was now wearing armor with elk horns on the helmet, began moving the army.
"Prepare the rams and ladders! We advance now!"
That was the signal for Alaric, Andrey, and the others holding the massive ladder. They raised it to shoulder height and began marching toward the fortress.
They were not alone. Beside them, on the right end of the vanguard, another group of men carried another ladder, while on the other end, two more groups carried two more ladders. Between both ends, there was a ram slowly being pushed.
As they marched, Steffon rode along the vanguard on his black horse, continuing his motivational speech, saying that this was only the first castle of the war, but not the last.
Meanwhile, Alaric cast a spell. Lowering his voice while speaking in the druidic language, sounding like the silent steps of a cat, he, with his left hand—since the right was holding the ladder—touched his heart, casting the spell Enhance Ability, which he had prepared earlier using cat fur days ago, which increased his dexterity by two, reaching fourteen.
—
Enhance Ability
Range: Touch
Components: V, S, M (fur or a feather from a beast)
Duration: Concentration, up to 1 hour + WIS modifier
Description: You touch a creature and bestow upon it a magical enhancement of +2 that depends on the animal fur or feather used to prepare the spell.
Bear's: +2 Endurance
Bull's: +2 Strength
Cat's: +2 Dexterity
Eagle's: +2 Charisma
Fox's: +2 Intelligence
Owl's: +2 Wisdom
At Higher Levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 3rd level or higher, you can target one additional creature for each slot level above 2nd.
—
"House Greyjoy is fucked. It will never be the same again," Andrey commented while looking at Quellon, who rode in a depressed manner. "How the hell did he let the situation reach this point?"
"The iron men believe they are following the will of the Drowned God. It is difficult to do something when the revolt of the population comes from religious motivation," Alaric explained. "Even more when proof, like those monsters, is so clear."
"So… he was doomed to get fucked from the start?"
"He was doomed to get fucked from the start."
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