46: Blood From Stone 1

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  I stood at the edge of the pier in one of the ports that had bent the knee to me after I’d defeated The Bloodhawk in single combat. His men, almost to a man, had surrendered and now served me with the few dozen who refused to do so moved to a port to the south. Those men were in chains – well, rope as I lacked actual chains – and under guard. They would be taken to the Dornish coast and abandoned there, free to do as they pleased. This had been part of the terms of the agreement with The Bloodhawk that any who chose not to bend their knee would not be killed by me but granted their freedom.

  As the Bloodhawk had fought and died with honour, I would grant that request, though the men would not be placed near any settlement I was aware of, nor anywhere that might grant them an easy chance of survival. I would keep my word, but they were pirates after all, and I would not unleash such men on those simply seeking to eke out a living.

  As the boats, one galley along with five longboats unfurled their sails and began moving eastward, I turned my thoughts to everything that had happened since The Bloodhawk’s defeat.

  It had taken five days for all of his men to learn of his death, and the offer to serve in my ranks without reprisal for any action taken while serving under their former lord. Most had taken it, but in the drive to bring men back to the ports so that they could bend the knee, land that had formerly been held in the channel between The Shrouded Isle and Bloodstone – the islands known collectively as The Bone Breakers – had been lost to Aeron Indarys and The Blood Serpent: pirate lords of Bloodstone.

  While plans had been made to retake the lost islands, and then push to take the rest, I had departed to my fleet. The Bloodhawk was gone, his men, ships, and treasures all mine, but one final pirate remained controlling land on The Shrouded Isle. The Ironborn bastard, Garvy Pyke still had two ports on the northern tip of the island, and I wanted them taken out before any assault on Bloodstone could take place, or before he learnt that The Bloodhawk had fallen and decided to take his remaining forces – about four hundred men, three galleys, and six longboats – to work for the pirates on Bloodstone, or attempted to raid my ports.

  Pyke, when faced with a fleet of over a dozen vessels led by the Kraken, quickly bent the knee and his men and ships were now part of my ranks. My fleet was harboured at the most convenient of the Ironborn bastard’s former ports; safe inside a natural harbour at the northern tip of the island that was just outside the Bone Breakers and with reasonably clear waters to Bloodstone when the time came to strike that island.

  The men of Pyke and the Bloodhawk would have been spread throughout the ports and fleets I now had save for the fact that they were the only ones who knew The Bone Breakers. The Bloodhawk had fought for years over the islands, though most of those battles had been minor skirmishes as he had never been willing to throw lives away for land that held little importance other than location. That behaviour was another thing that had me lamenting that Bloodhawk had not survived our duel as he would have made a good captain in my ranks.

  Still, I had moved what men I could around, breaking up groups in the various ports and installing my men – including the Dornish knights and sellswords – to command each location. Every longboat and a handful of galleys had been gathered in the ports that faced The Bone Breakers so that we might start to take the islands and fight our way to Bloodstone, but all of the men who knew the waters told me it would be a hard fight. One that some argued I should avoid and simply move around to strike directly at Bloodstone, and thus cut off The Bone Breakers from support.

  There was logic in that plan, but Daemon, Bronn, and Cayde were against it. Leaving such locations alone while we sailed around them invited attacks in our flanks. Something made even clearer by recon flights in Rian that confirmed that most of the ports on the Bloodstone side of the channel were connected to others, meaning men could move there without any ships tracking their movements.

  Thus, we would fight for each island, no matter how seemingly insignificant, to ensure that we could ensure our flanks were secure, and that we could, once we reached Bloodstone, take out the ports on the island facing the channel first. Which was why this small force was departing the port I’d set up my command centre in; the same one The Bloodhawk had ruled from before his death.

  There were over a hundred islands in The Bone Breakers, though only a quarter were large enough to be worth landing on with four that all sat roughly in a line down the centre of the channel, or any true tactical advantage. The fleet that was departing now, along with others from the two ports to the north, would be striking at some of the larger islands, hopefully working their way towards the four biggest islands in the channel. None of the islands had names, which made discussing them a pain in the arse but taking all four would grant me effective control of the channel. The challenge would be dealing with Aeron Indarys and The Blood Serpent. Particularly if both decided to fight to hold those larger islands.

  Since it had taken time to ensure that every one of The Bloodhawk’s men bent the knee, that Pyke was brought to heel, and to sort out how we were going to strike at the bone Breakers, those two pirate lords on Bloodstone – The Blood King was the third, but he only supposedly held the northeastern tip – had time to prepare. Something, in the case of Aeron, that was even longer as when Cayde had brought half my southern fleet around to blockade The Bloodhawk’s command port before our duel, meant I didn’t expect taking the Bone Breakers to be easy.

  Still, I expected that I would take the channel and the islands inside it before Aeron and The Blood Serpent could gather the majority of their fleet to strike back. Hells, even if I got bogged down on The Bone Breakers, they would gather their fleets. Thanks to Rian’s eyes – the eagle camped out in the mountains at the centre of Bloodstone to allow me to scout further from my location – I knew that even if they gathered every ship they had and crewed them fully, the numbers were about equal. The issue was that, when it came down to it, they were pirates and would choose to run away, hide, and then strike at me later than engage in open battle. At least a battle they couldn’t feel certain of winning.

  I’d yet to come up with plans that I felt would work in decisively deciding naval engagements in my favour, but it was something I considered every evening when the day-to-day business of commander of nearly five thousand men and having squires to train had passed.

  “You think this will work?”

  The question, asked in a variant form of Bastardised Valyrian, snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to face the approaching speaker, noting the guards walking along behind him and the fact he was unarmed. Or at least meant to be. “Those two fuckers are not dumb.”

  I grunted at the comment from Alequo Ryndoon, the pirate lord of Grey Gallows. “No, they are not. However, until they can gather all their men to the west of Bloodstone, I have the advantage in men and ships. Something boosted by your service,” I added with a smirk, trying to draw a reaction from the pirate. Or possibly, the former pirate.

  Not long after I’d made Garvy Pyke bend the knee, Daemon had sent word that ships had arrived at the southern port where he was based along with the fleet he commanded in my name. It had taken me a quarter moon to travel down to the port I was at, meaning over a moon had passed since I had defeated The Bloodhawk and could begin striking at The Bone Breakers, and when I’d reached this port, I’d found Ryndoon secured along with twenty of his men, while another four hundred were stuck on the small fleet of galleys he’d brought with him.

  “Do not think that because I signed your charter, my men are yours to use as you wish. We agreed they would remain under my command,” Ryndoon stated, an irritated snarl slipping onto his face.

  “Aye, we did. However, you are under my command thus they are as well,” I retorted as I moved closer. “Which is why you’re my guest.”

  The man originally from Myr, or so he claimed during the time he’d been my guest and now subordinate, wasn’t as tall as me and was perhaps twice my age. However, he wasn’t slow, weak, or stupid. His appearance at my port had been a surprise, though his reason for being there was far more so.

  It seemed that a ship of men formerly loyal to Allerion had fled to the Grey Gallows, and from that, Ryndoon had learnt of my actions on Redwater. Add in what he knew of the raids I’d carried out on The Whores last year, and he had put two and two together and realised I was the one behind both actions. Now, he didn’t have my name, but he’d realised my intent and then after Cadye and Bronn had returned from The Whores with the men there, including everyone who’d been forced to bend the knee and their ships, had sailed with a small force to The Shrouded Isle.

  Since the southern port that had once been The Bloodhawk’s and the most easterly former port of Lucian Koros were along the same curved section of the coast, he’d understood he could not attack. He also claimed to have understood that because the sails of the various vessels in those ports were not just those of Koros and The Bloodhawk, but of pirates from Redwater and the few that bore my sigil, something big was going on and sought an audience with me to see how he might profit from it.

  At first, the pirate had wanted to ally; intent on claiming some of the riches of the man taking out other pirate lords and then anticipated to exploit the vacuum to grow his powerbase. Things he had all admitted to freely when we’d spoken. However, after learning that I wasn’t just planning to take out the pirates in the name of some foreign lord or noble, but intended to hold and develop that I’d cleansed, he had changed his tack.

  Seeing how the winds were blowing, the man had offered to ally with me, but as the minor player, to take on the pirates on Bloodstone, and then rule Grey Gallows in my name. I had been highly reluctant to accept the offer and mentioned the charter everyone who wished to fight for me had to understand and then sign to acknowledge my terms.

  He had, obviously, not liked the idea of not having slaves, nor enjoying the spoils of war – his words for raping any female, and the odd man, he or his men captured – nor openly targeting every ship that sailed through the Steps. However, after allowing my hospitality under Guest Rites, something I would be incorporating into my new holdings as they developed, for several nights, he had eventually agreed. To help prove the matter, he had released the ten slaves he kept on his flagship – a ship that was fractionally bigger than anything in my fleets – and they had already been sent on a supply convoy to Northpoint.

  Including all the slaves I’d freed from Koros and the Bloodhawk – the one major black mark against the warrior – I’d freed nearly four hundred slaves on The Shrouded Isle. How Phineas would handle those numbers in Northpoint was his issue, but he had access to my treasury, which including what the Bloodhawk had claimed now stood at north of a hundred thousand Dragons if I included the various trade goods that had been liberated.

  Accepting Ryndoon into my ranks had not been well received. Rakakz disliked him heavily even though the pair had never directly engaged, claiming the other former pirate lord was a charlatan and one to not be trusted. Barrian and the Dornish knights disliked having to treat someone of such low moral standard as an equal, which ignored that they had been doing that with Rakakz since joining my ranks and that Crann Snow and Garvy Pyke had bent the knee to me after the Dornish knights had arrived. Now, perhaps there was some Westerosi bias in there, or the fact Snow and Pyke were minor pirates and Ryndoon was a major player, but regardless, I’d decided to accept Ryndoon’s fealty, and they had to accept it.

  Bronn, Cadye, and Daemon were more understanding, accepting that I needed as many men as I could throw into the meat grinder that the assault on The Bone Breaker and Bloodstone was going to be. Still, even they urged caution, which was why Ryndoon remained in my direct service while his ships and men had been split between the commands of Bronn and Daemon.

  Technically, command of the forces that would be targeting The Bone Breakers was Bronn’s, and he would be leading the forces in the attacks. I, however, would be taking overall control, since thanks to my Northern gifts, I could coordinate actions quicker than any runner could. It was just that to do that, I had to rely on gulls.

  Rian was camped out in the mountains of Bloodstone, and while he disliked the heat there, suggesting there might be thermal vents close to the surface, having him camp there allowed me to scout the eastern side of the island more easily. It was because of that that I knew the exact locations of the ports of the trio of pirate lords on Bloodstone, bar any that were hidden, and that both Aeron and The Blood Serpent had forts further inland.

  Well, Aeron had a fort, and The Blood Serpent had something akin to the walled settlement similar to the one Lucian Koros had used as his command centre. Based on my observations, there were several hundred slaves there, perhaps five hundred or more, and the walls were well-maintained and the path to the closest port was wider than any other. Everything about the place suggested The Blood Serpent understood the need for protection, even considering an attack from Aeron’s location to the south. Now, there was a range of mountains between the two command centres, but a well-expected raiding force could move through the passes with, I felt reasonable ease.

  Still, while taking The Blood Serpent’s walled settlement would be a challenge if it were well-manned, Aeron’s fort was going to be a fucking pain even if only a few hundred men manned the defences. Based on the location of Aeron’s fort, and the records I had on the Stepstones, it was entirely possible that that fort was the one once known as Caraxes’ Hold. The former residence of Daemon Targaryen when he ruled the Stepstones for a time before the Dance of Dragons.

  Regardless of whether it was Caraxes’ Hold or not, it was a proper fort, built with stone walls, towers at the corners, and everything else one would expect of a small, but secure hold. Now, there was damage in a handful of places, and while that had been repaired over the years, it was easy to spot those points by the poor repairs carried out by those who came after the castle’s creator. Still, taking it in any sort of siege was going to be a major fucking pain, and the time and effort needed for a siege, specifically one where there was only a single approaching road to move my army in from, wasn’t something I felt I had on my side. Not after the fucking storms that had delayed me dealing with Lucian Koros.

  Based on what I knew of the timeline, Jon Arryn should be dead, or about to die, which ignited the fuse of the chaos in King’s Landing that led to various canon events. Most of which, at least early on, centred around Ned, Sansa, and Arya. I was all but certain that there was fuck all I could do to save Ned. He was far too honourable and civil to be convinced to not become Robert’s Hand, and not then warn Cersei of what he knew of the parentage of her children.

  Still, there was a chance that I could, potentially, save the girls, and while I might not like Sansa – mainly because of her mother – they were family. Add in that ensuring their safety, particularly if I were able to get them out of King’s Landing, and I could easily alter much of the War of the Five Kings. Or so I hoped.

  Joffrey, for all his insanity, was not the real danger to Westeros. However, if there was a way to remove him and avoid the chaos of the coming civil war, I would see what I could do to ensure it without throwing away my life. However, if not, I would do what I could to prepare for the true danger to Westeros. The Others were coming, and I’d do what I could to prepare everyone for the coming Second Long Night or die trying.

  … …

  … …

  (Jon Arryn’s POV)

  “I will certainly do my utmost to ensure the costs for Prince Joffrey’s nameday celebration do not place significant strain on the already depleted royal coffers, but we are all aware how much His Grace enjoys festivities.”

  The comment from the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish, was made as Jon Arryn oversaw another meeting of the Small Council. One that, yet again, Robert had not come to. That was hardly a surprise given Jon could count with his fingers the number of times His Grace had come to a meeting during his reign and have fingers to spare. Still, it would be nice if, just for once Robert listened to his counsel and restrained his willingness to lavish gifts on everyone and anyone.

  When Robert had first ascended the Iron Throne, Jon had been quite happy for Robert to do so. In the aftermath of a costly – in both coin and lives – civil war, the realm needed to heal. That was why he agreed to have Cersei Lannister marry Robert. Yes, Lord Tywin had only chosen to side with the rebellion after Prince Rhaegar had died on the Trident, and yes the actions he had taken in King’s Landing had been grotesque, but that had secured the capital of The Seven Kingdoms with far less bloodshed and death than a long, drawn-out siege would have.

  Yet, after five and ten years of Robert sitting on the Iron Throne, what had once been healthy royal coffers with over a million Dragons in reserve, had turned into a potentially crippling debt of over five and a half million. The previous Master of Coin had been removed from his position several years ago, and replaced by Lord Petyr, who had impressed Jon with how he had increased revenue while working in Gulltown. It was on the advice of his wife, Lysa, that Jon Arryn had brought Lord Petyr to King’s landing, and the man had quickly risen to become Master of Coin.

  Yes, the debt of the Crown had grown since that time, but the income the Crown was taking was also increasing significantly. According to Lord Petyr’s projections, the debt could begin to be managed within the next year or two if there were fewer costly celebrations and festivities. Something as much as Jon wished would be the case, he knew was unlikely due to Robert’s excesses, and Queen Cersei’s appreciation for the finer things in life.

  It was that most of the debt, nearly three million Dragons, was owed to Lord Tywin that had for a long time prevented Jon from growing overly concerned about the vastly inflating debt. Lord Tywin would freely back the crown as his grandsons, the Prince’s Joffrey and Tommen, would one day be King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord of Casterly Rock, respectively. Still, the work Lord Petyr was doing in managing the debt, using methods that were far over Jon’s head, was a boon to the realm, and why he was glad to have the minor lord from the Vale on the Small Council.

  Yet, while he still considered Lord Petyr an ally on the Small Council, he was beginning to grow concerned about several activities of the Master of Coin. It had become known to Jon in recent years, through the words of many including Lord Stannis Baratheon, that Lord Petyr owned or ran many of the brothels and other dishonourable businesses within King’s Landing. Now, none of these businesses were illegal, and nothing went on there that was illegal according to the Gold Cloaks, but Jon disliked a man of the Vale being involved in the trade of sex and flesh.

  There was also if the rumours Lord Stannis had brought to him were anything to go by, a suggestion that Lord Petyr was closer to Jon's wife, Lysa, than he perhaps should be. As the two had grown up together in Riverrun where Petyr had been a ward of Lysa’ Father, Lord Hoster Tully, it was hardly a surprise that they had rekindled their friendship once both were in King’s Landing, and it had been Lysa who suggested making Petyr a customs official in Gulltown, and then suggested bringing him to King’s Landing to work for the previous Master of Coin. However, the suggestion that Lysa was closer to Lord Petyr than was appropriate was one that Jon had planned to investigate but had been unable to do as he had been focused on assuring the leaders of various Free Cities that the attacks on pirates in the Stepstones by a bastard from Dorne were not sponsored by the Iron Throne, nor an underhanded attempt by Dorne to extend its reach across the Narrow Sea.

  The actions there of Ser Cregan Sand were to be commended, as removing the threat of piracy on Dustspear would increase trade between Dorne and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and help integrate the last of the sections of Westeros that had backed the Targaryens into the realm under Robert’s rule. That was why he had not sent more than a few ravens to Prince Doran about the actions of the bastard son of Brandon Stark, though most had been at the request of Robert.

  The king had, upon hearing that Ser Cregan Sand, the boy he, Jon and others, had met during the beginnings of the Greyjoy Rebellion, was the one tasked with cleansing the pirate threat, sparked something in Robert. Something that Jon was happy to encourage. For the first time since the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion, Robert now spent time in the yard. More time, in fact, than he did drinking or whoring. Yes, he still enjoyed himself when hosting guests, be they friend or not, and Jon was aware that Robert preferred the beds of whores over his wife, but the fact he was slowly returning to something approaching fighting shape and curtailing, if only slightly, his worst habits, was something Jon was immensely proud of.

  That was why, even though Robert was yet again not present at a meeting of the Small Council, Jon was accepting of it. Even here, in the chamber they used, the occasional sound of steel clashing with steel, and loud, boisterous cursing from His grace as he trained in the yard, reached them. If Robert was not to be a king who ran his kingdom, at least he was slowly changing away from the drinking and whoring king he had been.

  Looking around the table after Lord Petyr’s comment on Robert’s enjoyment of festivities, and the implied cost of Price Joffrey’s two and ten nameday celebrations, Jon took in the faces of the others around the Small Council table.

  The Master of Whispers, Lord Varys, appeared almost bored by concern over coin, which was normal for the bald eunuch from Essos. Jon had never grown to trust the man who often smelled of lilac but could move with more grace and agility than his rotund frame suggested, however, he could not deny that Lord Varys was aware of almost everything that happened in Westeros and much of what occurred across the Narrow Sea. An awareness that had allowed Jon to prune several threats to Robert’s reign before they could flower into something dangerous.

  Grand Maester Pycelle looked, as was normal for the man given his advanced age, either about to sleep or fall over dead. While Jon knew he was getting old, being around the very aged Maester was a reminder that he had many more years of life left in him. Still, the Grand Maester was one Jon did not trust. He had been the one to convince the Mad King to open the gates to Tywin’s army after the Battle of the Trident, and over the years Jon had confirmed without arousing the suspicion that the Grand Maester, that Pycelle, was bought and owned by Lord Tywin.

  The other two members of the Small Council were Robert’s younger brothers: Lords Stannis and Renly Baratheon. The older brother, who was Master of Ships, was the one Jon considered the most dependable on the Council. Like Jon, Lord Stannis only had the best interests of the realm at heart. Something that, given Lord Stannis was made Lord of Dragonstone and not Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands after Robert became king – an insult no matter how Robert or Lord Stannis referred to it – continued to impress Jon to this day. It was why Jon was glad Lord Stannis was on the Small Council, and why he considered him the most dependable member of the Council. It was also why he had not dismissed the rumours Lord Stannis had brought to him about Lysa and Lord Petyr out of hand, though he was more focused on matters of state rather than rumours of potential insult and betrayal. At least for the time being.

  The younger Baratheon and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was, if Jon was to be kind, little better than a popinjay or a peacock. Lord Renly strutted around the Red Keep and King’s Landing as if he were the single most important figure in the city, and was easily led astray by any who paid him the correct amount of attention and adoration. That Robert had appointed his youngest brother Master of Laws, meant that Jon was forced to endure the presence of the only son of Steffon Baratheon that he disliked on an almost daily basis.

  “Yes, my brother does enjoy his proclivities,” Lord Renly with a smirk that was both amused and distracted. “For a great many things.”

  “As you say, Lord Renly,” Lord Petyr replied, lowering his head in acceptance of the remark, and that he was far below the station of a Lord Paramount. “Still, it is for the King to decide how he spends his coin, and the Master of Coin, at the direction of the Lord Hand, to find a way to manage the costs.”

  A grunt slipped from Lord Stannis, but Jon was thankful that the elder Baratheon did not respond. Whether the rumours Lord Stannis had brought to Jon were true or not – something he planned to investigate in the coming moons if matters of state allowed – Lord Stannis had distrusted Lord Petyr almost from the moment he had been appointed to the Small Council. Lord Stannis accepted that Jon trusted Lord Petyr, but he did not, which was why the other rumours Jon and Lord Stannis had been investigating very cautiously regarding the royal children had not been mentioned to Lord Petyr.

  Knowing this was the last matter concerning the known business of the Small Council, Jon turned to The Spider. “Lord Varys, what news do you have to report of potential threats to the Iron Throne from inside the Seven Kingdoms and without?” Hopefully, the Master of Whispers would have nothing to report, and he could end the meeting and retire to the Tower of the Hand to resume managing affairs of state.

  “Within the realm, there is nothing that needs concern this Council, my Lord Hand,” Lord Varys began with a smile that would seem warm if one did not watch the eyes of the Essosi very carefully. “However, there are several matters beyond our shores that I feel need to be addressed. The first is that I have, after much effort, managed to locate the last children of the Mad King. Viserys Targaryen and his sister have been granted refuge by a Magister in Pentos. I have yet to discern if this Magister is acting for the Prince of Pentos or on his own behalf, but I would suspect that he might be intending to arrange a marriage between a son of his and Daenerys Targaryen.”

  Jon frowned at this news. While a single Magister was powerful, they could not finance an invasion of Westeros alone, and certainly not back the restoration of the Targaryens to the Iron Throne. Still, the location of the last children of the Mad King, and his heir in Viserys Targaryen, was something that Robert would want to know. Jon already knew how His Grace would respond, and while he understood the reasoning for the hatred, he could not find it in himself to agree with it. Children should not be held accountable for the actions of their parents.

  Lord Renly slammed his goblet onto the table, spilling some of the wine within and drawing the attention of the rest of the Small council. “If we know where they are, then we must send assassins after them.” The young Lord had not fought in the Rebellion against the Mad King, nor in the Greyjoy Rebellion as he was but a child at that time, and thus he compensated for it by trying to act aggressively on matters that he felt threatened his brother’s reign. “The last of the dragonspawn need to be removed for my brother’s rule to be secure.”

  Jon’s frown deepened, not just at the removal of the children, but at using assassins to do it. It was a distasteful way to handle such matters. An opinion that Lord Stannis agreed with even if he would not openly, though Jon noted the older Baratheon looking at his brother in disgust, though that might be because Lord Renly had spilt some of his wine. A reminder possibly to Lord Stannis that like his elder brother, the youngest Baratheon was inclined to indulge in proclivities. Ones that Lord Stannis and Jon agreed no man should.

  Whispers of Lord Renly’s preferences for partners floated around the Red Keep and King’s Landing, and the longer the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands delayed in taking a wife, the louder those whispers would grow. To help with the matter, Jon had spoken via raven with Lady Olenna Tyrell over a possible marriage between her granddaughter, Lady Margaery, and Renly.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Such a pairing would secure the Tyrells to the Baratheons and help heal another wound of the war against the Mad King. However, Lady Olenna – the true power in the Reach – was hesitant to accept the suggestion, and it did not take much to understand that she was aiming higher. Prince Joffrey was soon to be ten and two, and would soon be taken as squire by a great knight or lord. He would also be of age to consider a betrothal, and Lady Olenna wanted the title of Queen for her granddaughter. A title Jon knew she would not get if Robert had his way.

  Robert wished to marry his firstborn son and heir to Lord Eddard’s eldest daughter, Sansa. It was, in the eyes of Robert, what should be done to make up for the fact that he and Eddard had not become goodbrothers through the marriage of Robert to Lyanna Stark. While Jon had concerns regarding Prince Joffrey’s behaviour, and the way Queen Cersei doted on the heir, he agreed that Sansa would be a suitable choice of Queen, particularly as she was said to remind all of her mother in beauty and grace and Jon remembered Lady Catelyn well.

  “Is that the wish of the Council?” Lord Varys asked, placing the idea of sending assassins after the Targaryen children before everyone. Jon was against it, as was Stannis, but that might not be enough to ensure the matter died.

  “It is… um,” Grand Maester Pycelle paused as if trying to raise his tired mind from slumber. “It is a dishonourable action, but one that is in the best interests of the realm.” Jon kept his face neutral at the old man’s words. He knew he would back assassins as that was Lord Tywin’s wishes and those of the King and Queen.

  “Better to be done with them now, than let a threat fester into a challenge,” Lord Petyr added dismissively, drawing a nod of agreement from the Spider.

  Jon sighed, knowing the vote was now four to two, and thus settled. Only in the event of a tie would Jon be able to strike a matter down, but even if that had happened today, when he spoke of the vote to Robert Jon knew what the King’s reaction would be. Assassins would be sent after the children, as they had been every time a sighting of them in Essos was reported. “Speak with Lord Baelish after this meeting about arranging the coin for hiring such men,” Jon said as emotionlessly as he could. Yes, it was for the good of the realm, but it was still distasteful to one who valued honour as highly as he did.

  Lord Varys nodded, taking in the order, and then looked at the members of the Council before continuing. “There are several other matters in Essos that might become a concern of this Council; however, I am waiting for more information before I am comfortable discussing them.” Jon nodded, hoping the meeting was about to end. “That said, there is one matter from beyond the shores of the Seven Kingdoms that needs to be addressed. Perhaps urgently.”

  Jon’s brow rose, wondering what this matter might be. “And that would be?”

  Lord Varys fixed his gaze on Jon. “You recall the discussions we have had regarding events in the Stepstones, my Lord Hand?”

  “You are referring to Ser Cregan Sand?” Jon replied, noting the way the other members of the Council, or at least Lords Renly and Stannis reacted to the name. The faintest hint of irritation flashed over Lord Renly’s face as if he disliked the Dornish knight for some reason. Lord Stannis leaned forward, though Jon suspected that was more to do with mention of the Stepstones, and the pirate threat there than the bastard son of Brandon Stark.

  “The name is vaguely familiar to me,” Lord Stannis commented.

  “Ser Cregan Sand is the bastard son of Brandon Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne,” Jon explained slowly. “He was raised by his mother’s husband, Prince Oberyn Martell in Sunspear though you might remember him best from Casterly Rock at the beginning of the Greyjoy Rebellion.”

  “The boy who killed the Ironborn and took Red Rain?”

  “Yes, Lord Stannis,” Lord Varys replied, though Jon’s attention was on Lord Renly. There was another flicker of irritation from the Master of Laws at the mention of the Valyrian Steel blade, and Jon wondered if, for some strange reason, the Lord of Storm’s End was angered by the Dornish bastard. “One and the same.”

  If Lord Renly disliked Ser Cregan, it would be odd, but Jon knew that Lord Renly disliked it when others had the attention and glory instead of him. A bastard he might be, but Ser Cregan was the son of two ancient houses in Westeros. Ones that could trace their lines back to the Age of Heroes and the Long Night. Add in that Ser Cregan had had contact with three of the Great Houses of Westeros, and it seemed as if the young knight had some role to play in whatever game the gods were playing with men.

  “I believe I have met him as well.” Jon’s head turned to Lord Petyr’s, doing what he could to restrain his surprise from showing. “It was before I came to King’s Landing, while I was working in Gulltown. He travelled south with Prince Oberyn Martell if I remember correctly.”

  There was no hint of animosity in Lord Petyr’s tone, but Jon wondered if the Master of Coin might hold some dislike of Ser Cregan given Lord Petyr’s history with Brandon Stark. The scar Lord Petyr wore, one that went almost from neck to waist, was a reminder of his mistake in challenging the then-heir to Winterfell to a duel over the hand of Catelyn Tully.

  The mention of Gulltown had Jon’s mind, for a brief moment, shift to his nephew, Ser Harrold Hardyng. He had, Jon had remembered after Ser Cregan was first mentioned to Jon by Lord Varys last year, also met the Dornish bastard. The pair had fought in a squire’s tourney in the port city in the Vale when both were squires with the Dornish bastard emerging victorious. A defeat that was the last Harold had suffered before being knighted.

  “What has a bastard done that demands the attention of men such as us?”

  Lord Renly’s dismissive tone was another sign that he held some issue with Ser Cregan; something that Jon would have to investigate to determine the source of.

  “As I made aware to the Lord Hand last year, Ser Cregan was tasked by Prince Doran Martell with clearing the island of Dustspear of pirates; men who had been targeting trade along the Broken Arm near Sunspear.” There was a grunt from Lord Stannis, making clear his approval of the task. “We had learnt since then that Ser Cregan had set up a settlement on the island, potentially bringing it under the influence of Sunspear.”

  “Would such an act not draw the ire of the Free Cities of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr?”

  Jon nodded. “It might have, Grand Maester if I had not written to the Archon of Myr, Prince of Pentos, and the Magisters of Lys to assure them that the Iron Throne has no interest in claiming the Stepstones.”

  “It seems that you may have to reassure the Free Cities of that, My Lord Hand. It has taken some time, as my little birds are not as prevalent in Sunspear as they once were, but I have learnt that Ser Cregan has not remained on Dustspear. He has not only raided The Whores, decimating the pirates there that targeted ships moving along the Broken Arm but has wiped clean Redwater and now intends to strike at The Shrouded Isle.”

  Jon inhaled sharply at the sudden escalation of Ser Cregan’s actions. He was irritated that Lord Varys had not informed him of these events sooner, but if the Master of Whispers was being truthful in his remark about lacking spies in Sunspear, then it was perhaps forgivable. But also, a reason to watch Dorne more cautiously in the coming years. “Does he intend to hold the islands as he does Dustspear?” He asked slowly, trying to get an inclination of what the young knight's intentions were.

  “I cannot say for certain, as much of what I have learnt is moons old, but I would suspect he has plans to secure at least some of the Stepstones as his domain.”

  Jon nodded slowly, taking in the information, and processing everything as quickly as he could. The removal of piracy in the Stepstones, even if just around the Dornish coast, was something that would benefit all of Westeros. It had even helped strengthen the bonds between Dorne and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, or at least the North as Jon remembered a report stating that trade between Sunspear and White Harbour had increased over the last few years.

  However, even if Ser Cregan returned to Dustspear after clearing The Shrouded Isle of pirates, there was every chance the Free Cities would not accept a strong military presence in the Stepstones that was loyal to Westeros. Yes, Dorne was isolated from the Iron Throne, but they were still sworn to it and many of the more aggressive figures of power in Essos, Ser Cregan’s moves would be seen as the prelude for the annexation of the Stepstones, as had been done during the reign of Viserys the First.

  He would have to bring this matter to Robert, and Jon knew how his Grace would respond. He would sense the chance at war, to throw himself into battle, and increase his training with Sers Barristan and Jamie. Robert would not care about the politics of the matter. No, he would revel in the chance to test himself in the fires of combat and would back Ser Cregan to the hilt. Hells, he might even attempt to go and directly fight in the Stepstones himself, if not declare war on any Free City that resisted the taking of the Stepstones by the Iron Throne.

  “I fail to see how that is our concern.”

  Jon looked at Lord Renly as if the man had suddenly grown a second head. He could not be as uneducated as such a comment suggested.

  “It concerns us, brother, because it could drag the Seven Kingdoms into a war we are not prepared or unified enough to win!” Lord Stannis’ response to his younger brother was one that Jon had experienced often over his years as Hand of the King, occurring whenever Lord Stannis grew tired of his brother’s flippant, almost uncaring, reactions and comments to various events. “I for one am glad that someone is moving to shatter the growing threat of piracy based in the Stepstones, but this Dornish bastard has connections to two Great Houses. Even if he had not been supported by Prince Doran to take any island beyond Dustspear, many in Essos would consider what he was doing as sanctioned by the Crown, and thus a declaration of war with the Free Cities. As Lord of Storm’s End,” Lord Stannis seemed to almost spit out that title in disgust, “and thus the Lord Paramount closest to the Stepstones and the Free Cities who most often contest control of those damned islands, you should understand the danger such a war would represent to the people of the Stormlands!”

  Lord Stannis had retained his control, his voice cool. Yet the venom in his words and the daggers he glared at his younger brother cowed Lord Renly for the moment. If he had closed his eyes, Jon was sure he would have mistaken Stannis for his father, Lord Steffon Baratheon.

  “While I, along with the rest of this Council, am equally concerned by the threat of war with the Free Cities, my Lord Stannis, I believe it is remote. Ser Cregan is, from what I have learnt, acting without the knowledge or active support of Prince Doran, however, his actions in that bastion of piracy are a growing concern to the security of the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “That it is,” Jon agreed, seeing that Lord Renly had not yet recovered from the verbal beating given to him by his brother. “You say that Prince Doran is not actively supporting Ser Cregan, but how certain are you of this?”

  Lord Varys sighed, perhaps a little overly dramatically in Jon’s opinion. “I regret I cannot confirm my belief with any great certainty, My Lord Hand. Prince Doran and his brother are very guarded about their intentions. More so, it seems since Ser Cregan began his campaign against the pirates. However, since there is no word from my little birds that the Dornish are preparing for war, I have to believe that Ser Cregan’s actions are not directly backed by House Martell.”

  Jon nodded as Varys answered, understanding that he meant his spies – which at least in King’s Landing, Jon believed were seemingly random street urchins – were not as prevalent in Sunspear as they were in other places of power in Westeros. That was a slight concern, but one that had become clear over the last four or so years as Lord Varys was unable to report on actions taken by Prince Doran as quickly as he had on the moves and possible alliances created by the other Great Houses of Westeros.

  “There is, perhaps, one morsel of information that I had learnt that might be of some use.”

  “Which is?” Lord Stannis asked, impatient as always with Lord Varys’ need to dance around a subject.

  “While it is known that Ser Cregan is, or was, the paramour of Princess Arianne Martell, it is Lady Asha Greyjoy who has borne the bastard a child. A daughter according to the whispers spoken by my little birds.”

  Jon blinked, his mind having to replay that small morsel of information to fully process it. He had known of Ser Cregan’s relationship with Princess Arianne from Varys, and that as they were young and Dornish, others shared their bed. However, to hear that the daughter of the traitor Lord Balon Greyjoy – who was there as a hostage to ensure her uncle, Lord Rodrik Harlaw, the new Lord of the Iron Islands did not rebel against the crown as his goodbrother had – had borne a child was a shock. More so in that, the bastard of Brandon Stark was the father.

  He allowed a small chuckle to slip from his lips, wondering how Lord Balon was enjoying learning about the father of his grandchild while he burnt in the Seven Hells for his treachery. “While interesting, I do not believe such knowledge will in any way alter how we handle Ser Cregan’s actions. Nor ensure he does as we request.” Jon took a moment and looked at the rest of the Small Council, trying to gauge their options. “That said, we cannot allow Ser Cregan to continue his actions in the Stepstones without explaining himself to the Iron Throne. I will not have us dragged into a war because of the actions of one bastard seeking to earn fame and fortune in some attempt to impress a Princess.”

  “Agreed,” Lord Stannis added with a firm nod. “I applaud his actions in clearing pirates from the Stepstones, but we must be sure of what he will do after to avoid a challenge to His Grace from across the Narrow Sea. Particularly with the Mad King’s last son now in Pentos.”

  “I concur as well, My Lord Hand, though I would also add other small fragments of information that might be of use before we reach a decision. It seems that Ser Daemon Sand, the sworn shield of Princess Arianne Martell, travels with Ser Cregan at the behest of the Princess, as do perhaps a dozen other knights from Dorne seeking glory in battle.”

  “Ah.” Jon took a moment to consider the additional information. While it was still unlikely Prince Doran was invested in Ser Cregan’s actions, it seemed his heir was, which further complicated matters. “We must summon Ser Cregan to court so that he can explain his actions and intent.” He looked around the table seeing nods of agreement from everyone bar Lord Renly who looked away instead of offering some snide remark about the bastard.

  Jon turned his focus back to Lord Varys. “It would be wise to assume that there is no direct method with which we could contact Ser Cregan while he is in the Stepstones?”

  “We cannot, my Lord Hand.”

  “Then I propose that we send a raven to Prince Doran. He might not be actively supporting Ser Cregan, but it was he who had the bastard raised in his keep, and he who backed the attack on Dustspear. The missive, which I shall write personally, Grand Master,” Pycelle nodded in acceptance of the decision, “will command House Martell to collect Ser Cregan Sand and escort him to King’s Landing so that he might explain his actions to His Grace and ourselves.”

  Bar Lord Renly, the rest of the Small Council gave signs of agreement, and Jon returned his gaze to Lord Varys. “Is there anything else that might be of potential concern to the Crown?”

  “Not at this time, my Lord Hand,” the rotund Master of Whispers replied gently.

  “Then I end this meeting of the Council and record that we shall reconvene three days hence unless something pressing is brought before us.”

  With that, the meeting ended, and the various members stood and began leaving the chamber where they met. Jon remained seated, his mind wandering. Even before today, Ser Cregan had taken more of his thoughts than any bastard should, but it seemed that the Bloody Wolf of Dorne – as Robert had named him all those years ago at Casterly Rock – had yet more chaos to unleash on the realm. All Jon could hope was that the chaos, in some strange way, benefited Robert’s reign.

  … …

  … …

  (Cregan’s POV)

  I bit back a growl as I walked to the building I’d taken over from The Bloodhawk as my command centre along the eastern shore of The Shrouded Isle, the missive in my hand crumbled inside my fist. My men had been forced from one of the four larger islands in the Bone Breakers; islands that served as the middle line in the channel between where I currently was and where I wanted to be, on the shores of Bloodstone.

  It had been about three-quarters of a moon since we’d managed to take the first of those major Bone Breaker isles, and while we held the middle two, the ones at the north and south of the channel were proving harder to take. Or more accurately, hold.

  Both islands and the smaller outcroppings around them had been struck and taken, but each time my men had been driven back. One knight had also fallen in those counters; their armour not saving them from the numbers that attacked or the danger that came when one lost their footing on soft ground and was overwhelmed by an enemy. That meant that whichever pirate lord on Bloodstone the men who killed Ser Jargar served now had access to armour superior to what they and their men might’ve used before. Something that only heightened my fury at the loss of the southern island in the Bone Breakers as was reported in the missive from Daemon that I was struggling to not reduce to ash as I walked.

  Beyond The Blood Serpent and Aeron Indarys fighting harder for the Bone Breakers than I had anticipated, it seemed the dearly in taking the islands in the channel, and the one needed to bring The Bloodhawk’s men under my command and force Garvy Pyke to his knees had granted the pair time to move against the other pirate lord of the island. The Blood King was minor by comparison to even those on Redwater that I’d killed or, in the case of Rakakz, brought into my ranks, and had been losing ground to the other pair regularly. Add in that Jaerenys Tarlarys – a man believed to be in the employ of Tyrosh – on Obsidian Sands was suspected to be targeting the Blood King’s ships, and the smallest pirate lord of Bloodstone was on borrowed time. A fact that, thanks to Rian, I knew was true.

  While not major fleets, both The Blood Serpent and Aeron had sent vessels from their ports towards those controlled by The Blood King. Two of the pirate’s three ports had fallen with the two fleets moving to converge on the final port. I didn’t know if these attacks were coordinated, in response to my attempts to take the Bone Breakers or both, but the fact they were using this moment to strengthen their forces while forcing mine to grind to a halt only added to my rage.

  Perhaps the only upside was that, based on what I’d scouted via Rian, even if the pirates on Bloodstone gathered all their ships together, I would still outnumber them. And that was before considering that I had five galleys from Alequo Ryndoon at my disposal as well, though I remained uncertain if I could trust the pirate lord of Grey Gallows and his men.

  So far, he had yet to step out of line, snap back whenever I or others shut down his suggestions, or complain that I was using his men – along with those of Garvy Pyke and Lucian Koros – as the vanguard of most of my assaults in The Bone Breakers, but I remained reluctant to believe he was genuine in his servitude. Something that Rakakz and Bronn were keen to agree with whenever we spoke. Daemon was more accepting of Ryndoon’s presence, though purely from a position of the extra manpower than liking the pirate while Cayde couldn’t comment.

  That was because I had dispatched him, along with four galleys, around two hundred men, and some of the higher quality trade coins, jewellery and gems that had been secured from The Bloodhawk’s stores to King’s Landing. I had reasoned that sending all my captured goods to Sunspear would soon, if it had not already, devalue them in the local market that would be slowly overflowing with goods and the like. As such, I’d sent two trade groups out, one bound for Storm’s End and the other, commanded by Cayde, to King’s Landing.

  While both locations would allow me to sell my goods for better prices, and grant access to, I hoped, higher quality weapons and armour for my men. Particularly those who were on a Lieutenant’s pay or better. Not only would it ensure that those men were better protected in combat, but it would also work to help further secure their loyalty by granting them better equipment.

  Now, I could’ve sent all eight galleys to Storm’s End, or the second fleet to somewhere closer than King’s Landing, but I wanted ships to go there, and needed someone I trusted implicitly to lead the mission. Hence why Cadye had been given command of the small force. Not only would more weapons and armour be available in King’s Landing, and of a higher quality still, but there were a few rather unusual items that I wished to acquire. I was uncertain if Cayde would be able to purchase them in the time allotted for him to remain in the capital – I didn’t want him lingering too long in case word of what I wished for him to purchase reached the ears of the Gold Cloaks or Baelish and Varys – but if he could, then I’d have a few surprises to use against the pirate fleets and Aeron’s fort.

  Unlike on the other islands in the Stepstones, I doubted I’d be able to simply sweep through the ports of The Blood Serpent and Aeron. I would thus need to crush their fleets, or at least a sizable portion of them, in combat. Yes, I held the numerical advantage, but pirates would not attack a fleet much larger than theirs, and tricking galleys, war galleys, and a few other larger vessels the pair seemed to have into traps on the open sea was going to be difficult at best to arrange.

  I entered the building I was currently based out of, and moved to the room that had once been The Bloodhawk’s but was now my acting solar. As with each time I entered, I missed the desk I had back in Northpoint and knew that once the campaign was over, that would be transported to wherever I set up my capital as the first item of furniture in my hold. Yes, that desk was not the greatest, but it was the best one I had seen so far in my expeditions and held sentimental value as a mark of how and where my rise had begun.

  The missive from Bronn was turned to ash with magic the moment the door to my solar closed; the safety of the room granted me the assurance that my action wouldn’t be seen by others, and I tossed the remains into the unlit fireplace. In the corner of the room, Kaa lifted his head from the empty bookshelf that along with a large potted plant – an unexpected find – he had taken over and made his nest in the solar. Another corner was given over to rugs for Ymir to rest upon, but the direwolf was currently somewhere to the southwest, hunting for game. So far, the island and sea around it had provided meat for my men, but I knew that feeding them was going to become an issue the longer it took to break through The Bone Breakers, to say nothing of developing the islands once Bloodstone was mine.

  I had only just sat down at the desk and pulled out a map for this section of the Stepstones, one I had added details to from my aerial reconnaissance when there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” I said after sliding another map, one lacking much of the extra detail, over the top.

  Trystane pushed the door open and stepped inside. “My Lord, men have arrived in the port from the South along with a letter from Ser Daemon.” My brow rose at hearing that. I had not seen any ships approaching my ports that should not have been sailing there. Yes, there were various vessels, most trading but several not, that I had seen through the eyes of Rian or one of the gulls, but outside of the returning transport fleet for Northpoint, none had appeared to be approaching The Shrouded Isle. At least not along the coast where my ships were based and certainly not from the south where Daemon commanded from.

  The only small group of ships that had stood out was one I’d seen moving between The Whores and The Shrouded Isle towards the Dornish coast. Those ships had borne the sigil of one of those Lucian Koros had agreements with to ignore so they could engage in slavery and other acts without fear of pirate attacks. I intended to send a missive via gull to Jaeronos about them but had not yet done so.

  “From where do they hail?” I asked as I stood.

  “Westeros, My Lord, at least three from the Vale based on their sigils. I do not know much more as I came to find you as soon as they arrived at the southern gate, and I was tasked with alerting you.”

  I nodded, giving my squire a look over. He was coming along nicely with his magic, perhaps outpacing Arianne with how easily he was learning to control water. However, he lacked the stamina that she or my father had, which given Trystane’s age, was not unexpected. Still, that enhanced growth, one perhaps outpacing Oberyn’s as well though I couldn’t be sure as he had studied by himself at first and was much older once I’d offered advice, suggesting he had the potential to be a stronger water mage than his sister. At least if he continued to train as diligently as he has so far.

  There were questions I had about how to determine how strong someone’s potential with magic was if gender and being trueborn or a bastard mattered, and if it mattered if both parents were of noble or First Men blood, but I lacked a large enough sample size to make any assumptions. It would be, I suspected, years at best before I had any sort of guide. Not unless I met someone from Essos who was better versed in the rules of magic, and they were willing to explain such things to me.

  “Then let us greet our guests,” I said as I moved towards Kaa’s corner. Since he was present, he would help in ensuring a suitably awe-inducing and potentially terrifying response was drawn when I first met these possible men from the Vale.

  Kaa lifted his head slowly, irritation at being roused from his slumber easy for me to sense via our bond. “Come on you lazy serpent,” I muttered to him as I held out my arm towards his face. “time for your daily trip into the sun.”

  Now, Kaa went out when he wanted, but I made sure someone was always present. The men in the fort were generally those who had once served The Bloodhawk, and I didn’t want anyone reacting to the sight of the massive viper – one that seemed around a metre seventy or about five and a half feet – before them.

  A small grunt slipped from me as he slowly moved up my arm, and I braced it against a shelf as he reached my neck. At his length, he needed to loop around my shoulders three times to get all his bulk rested there, and once he had, he placed his head near to my ear, hissing gently as his tongue flicked out to taste the air.

  With Kaa settled, I followed Trystane out of the building. Four guards fell into step to my sides and behind, making me smirk. I didn’t feel a need for guards, but the display was a reminder that I was the one in command here and that if any tried to attack me, I had some extra protection to use in my defence.

  As I moved southwards through the port, the men nearby often glanced my way. Some lowered their heads, a mark of respect that gave a hint at how long or how loyal they were, while others bowed. I would prefer they didn’t do such things, as it was unnecessary currently, but I wasn’t going to stop them. Between the length some had served with me, my success in battles before today, and defeating The Bloodhawk in single combat, I had earned the respect and allegiance of most of my men, or so I believed. It was, after all, hard to be sure with men who had once been pirates, and they were all bound to me by coin.

  Nearing the southern gate, I saw a large group of men, perhaps around a hundred, there speaking with some of my men. Knights, both those under my command and leading this new group, were easy to make out by the armour, but I couldn’t clearly see any sigils to determine who these newcomers were. Still, the fact the interactions taking place were friendly suggested this was a boon for me.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked as the first of my men sensed my approach and started moving back to let me pass. Others did the same, and I stopped mid-stride as I saw the men at the front of the group. The sigils of Houses Royce and Waynwood, altered for personal use, were on two of the trio that stood at the front of the group, but it was the sigil of the middle knight, and the familiar if older face of the central figure that had caught me unawares. “Harrold?” I said, unable to keep the disbelief out of my tone.

  “It is Ser Harold, now Ser Cregan,” Harrold Hardyng replied as I moved closer and extended my forearm. His eyes, like many of the men with him, darted to Kaa who was already bored of this and wanted to slither away. Harrold’s face had, as one would expect, matured. There was some blonde fuzz on his chin marking both how long it had been since he’d had a shave and his age. For a moment, I wished to raise my hand to my chin and amuse myself that my stubble was thicker and longer than his even though he was the elder of the two of us, but resisted. I also noted that his face, along with those of the two beside him, lacked the wear and tear of one who’d spent moons fighting on and off.

  “What are all of you doing here?” I asked as I broke the clasp and turned to his right, realising the Royce there was Donovar; another I had met in The Vale during a squire’s tourney.

  “You think we would hear of your battles in the Steps and not wish to come and join the fun?” Donovar replied as we clasped arms. “Harry has kept me and others aware of your adventures, and after learning of your intent to cleanse these isles of pirates, we decided to gather men to join us in helping you.”

  “How many?” I inquired as we broke the clasp, my spirits lifting as I noted at least a dozen knights among the men behind the lead trio.

  “Over a score of knights, and ten times that in sellswords along with the crew of the vessels we hired,” Ser Harrold, or Harry as he preferred with his friends, answered. “All the men were paid for half a year by the mayor of Northpoint.” The smile on his face was irritating. As if he knew he was handsome and enjoyed rubbing it in the face of others. However, I knew that I was just as handsome as him due to my various traits. Hells, since I’d taken Blood of the Dragon’s Flames, my looks might have changed beyond my eyes becoming wholly purple. I did, after all, now have something akin to the blood of Old Valyria running through my veins.

  “It was a little strange that he did that. At least until we spoke to the smallfolk there,” The Waynwood knight to Harry’s left added as he moved to clasp my arm. “Ser Donnel Waynwood, Ser Cregan,” He added as we shook. Ser Donnel was, from what I remembered, the second son of Lady Waynwood. The one who had raised Harry as her ward.

  “It seems that you have been more successful than we knew in the time since I last received a letter from you and moved to gather men to your cause,” Harry said, taking back over the conversation as I broke the clasp with Ser Donnel. “That said, given the company you keep, not counting those with us now and those like Ser Daemon, it seems you require the help of a few good men of the Vale.”

  That comment, with the last part said louder so that his voice would carry, drew a roar of approval from the men behind Harry, Ser Donovar, and Ser Donnel.

  “As I recall, I defeated many of the men of Vale, including yourself and Ser Donovar, in the tourney in Gulltown,” I countered, drawing chuckles from the Dornish men at my side. “Still, it is good that you and the others are here. Mayor Phenias explained the terms of service in my forces?” I asked, shifting the topic there while mention of Northpoint was still fresh in the air.

  “He did, and while some of the terms were unexpected, we cannot find fault with them. Nor should any true knight,” Harry responded with a smile, drawing nods from the pair at his sides and several behind him. Those men, from what I could see of their various sigils, were more hedge knights than trueborn, but that was fine. Unlike the trio I was speaking with, they would know of the challenges that could only come in real battle. “He, and Ser Daemon, also told us of your unusual companions, though until I saw that creature, I was uncertain how truthful they were.”

  “This is Kaa,” I said as I lifted my hand to my shoulder, and the massive bloodflower viper leaned into my touch. He turned his head so that I could scratch him at that one spot on the top of his skull that he could never reach easily.

  “He is defanged?”

  “He is not,” I answered Ser Donnel with a chuckle; the remark drawing a few concerned gasps from the Valemen, with a few even moving their hands to the hilts of their blades. “Any man that raises his blade to Kaa, or my other companions, will taste my steel,” I added with some of my fury before the matter could escalate. “Kaa was a gift from the Sealord of Braavos, and I trust him and the others, more than I do any man here.”

  “We meant Kaa, nor any of your other companions, any harm,” Harry said gently, the men behind him still tense as those around me had reacted to their behaviour. “We are just… surprised that such a creature can be so close to a man without concern for the danger it represents.”

  “You should see Ymir when he’s angry,” Trystane muttered, drawing the attention of the Valemen while causing those aware of who Ymir was to chuckle nervously.

  “I see your squire is from House Martell,” Ser Donovar said slowly, taking the opportunity to change the topic away from Kaa. Potentially because he was uncomfortable with the idea I was close to beasts as it violated some part of his beliefs.

  “Aye. Trystane is the youngest son of Prince Doran Martell, while my other squire is the heir of Starfall,” I added with a hint of pride.

  As expected, many of the Valemen shifted back to me in surprise. It was uncommon but not unheard of for a knight of power and influence to have two squires simultaneously. Since, to them, I was neither of those, the fact I had two, and that both came from prominent Dornish Houses, should, I hoped, make clear that I was not one to trifle with.

  Harry chuckled to end the odd silence that had fallen over us. “Ah. That does explain why we were given a chest of letters from Prince Doran for you and your men.” Trystane’s eyes lit up, understandably so as like me he liked to hear of what was happening at home.

  Letters had come with Ser Barrian when he and the Dornish knights had joined my ranks, and letters had been sent back by myself and others to Dorne on one of the transport and trade convoys. It seemed that to reach me, Harry and the others had headed to Sunspear first and then made their way to Dustspear, and then to The Shrouded Isle.

  Ser Donovar turned and gestured to the men behind him, and I watched as two came forward carrying a small chest with them. “We were tasked by Prince Doran with ensuring the contents reached you safely, Ser Cregan. A duty we can now complete.”

  “For that you have my thanks,” I said as the chest came closer. It wasn’t large, but seemingly full enough that two men were needed to carry it. “And while this is not Westeros, I offer you bread and salt at my table,” I added, invoking guest rites for the newcomers.

  If I had not been so distracted by their arrival it would’ve been something I would’ve done after greeting them at the gate to the port. However, I had forgotten because of my shock at their appearance.

  The custom was one I intended to bring into effect once I had taken Bloodstone and began work on developing my holdings. It was used across the Narrow Sea, though in the Free Cities, little emphasis was placed on breaking the rites. While I might not have been raised in the North, I placed great importance on the honour of one’s word and protection of a host for their guests, while the guests obeyed the rules of their host.

  Harry, Ser Donovar, and Ser Donnel all lowered their heads. “We thank you for the offering of food and safe harbour, and are pleased to see honour is being brought to the Stepstones,” Ser Donnel replied with a wide smile. “I for one, am famished and look forward to something other than the rations we had to endure on our voyage.”

  I chuckled. “We are not much better here, but I’m sure we can find food and drink to satisfy your bellies,” I said as I moved slightly, gesturing for them to join me in marching into the port. The trio of Vale knights did so, my guards falling into place around all of us as we moved. “Trystane, why don’t you escort the chest to my solar and then after finding Edric, work on sorting who each letter is from and for.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” My squire nodded excitedly and moved off to one side. I noticed that two of the Dornish hedge knights moved with him, pleased to see them obeying my orders even with our guests here and the promise of food and drink dangling before them. Trystane and Edric were my squires, and there was a danger to them wherever we went, however, I would not place them in undue danger around men that I might not trust.

  Most of the time over the recent days, when not training with me, they sparred with the various squires that came for the Dornish knights. At least those assigned to my command here. In the coming days, it seemed that they, like myself and others, would have new opponents to train against.

  “How was your voyage here?” I asked after my squire, his guards, and the men carrying the chest headed towards my command post.

  “Uneventful.”

  “He means it was boring as fuck,” Ser Donovar added, correcting Harry’s reply. “Not a single attempt by pirates to board us. Given where we now stand, and what we learnt from Ser Daemon, at least now we know why that was.”

  “I would say I was sorry for denying you the fun, but I’m not.”

  My comment drew chuckles from the men of the Vale.

  “It is okay, my friend. I am sure in the coming moons we will all have the chance to test our blades in battle.”

  I nodded at Harry’s comment, my mind abuzz with how I could use this boon of skilled and armoured men to my advantage. Twenty knights and four times that in sellswords created a good new core of a crack assault force to strike at pirate positions in the Bone Breakers. Still, I would need to be careful how and where I used them as while a knight was a match for dozens of pirates, the ground of many of the islands in the Bone Breakers did not favour those who fought in heavy armour. A fact Ser Jargar had learnt the hard way.

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