Interlude: Edric 2
Morosh, Early Twelfth Moon, 285 A.C., Six weeks later…
I bet Hugo would like this game. I think to myself as I move an onyx elephant piece on the marble board, removing my opponent's ivory crossbowmen. Instead of being fazed, my opponent smirks and moves his ivory dragon to remove my elephant, leaving my king piece open to attack. I scrutinize the board in front of me, before moving a catapult piece to remove his dragon only for his heavy horse to remove my catapult, leaving my king exposed again. This is only the fifth time I've played Cyvasse, a boardgame popular in the Free Cities, but I find myself hooked.
"A man must admit, this is a fine ship. Are you certain a man cannot sell a clipper to this one?" A red-haired Lorathi translator named Vogan stands off to the side of the table, translating the words of the Prince of the Streets, Qarlan Ennarhan in accented Common Tongue. The tall, broad-shouldered, blonde-haired Lorathi prince wearing red woolen robes of his house colors cloaked in a sealskin cloak smiles as his translator speaks before moving a light horse piece near my rabble. The Prince of the Streets is one of three Princes of Lorath, purely ceremonial titles given to Lorathi highborn who are elected to their positions and hold them for life. Prince Qarlan Ennarhan, the Prince of Streets is elected by all the freemen of the city.
"Unfortunately, Prince Qarlan, you and the other princes heard Prince Stannis, the clippers, like the wayfinders, are not to be sold to non-Westerosi." I say diplomatically as I move a trebuchet piece to threaten his king. Prince Vygaro H'ghar, the Fisher Prince elected from all the Lorathi shipowners, frowns at my words, unintentionally revealing he can speak and understand Common Tongue without a translator. He moves a red circular piece on a red and black checkers board over a black piece before removing it from the board. Checkers is a game invented by my brother and like the wardens decks, is popular with the sailors, Sea Wolves, and men-at-arms of Sea Dragon Point. Words in the Lorathi tongue, a bastardized form of High Valyrian, flow from a new voice and I turn Vygaro's opponent to Prince Joran Tor'phal, the Harvest Prince elected from all the Lorathi landowners as Vogan translates.
"If the ship is unavailable for purchase then what about the other items on your ship? The portable stoves and water distiller are finely crafted as are the farming implements." He moves one of his back pieces and captures a red piece as I absorb the translator's words. I contemplate how many we have in storage. We're unable to sell the rocket stove and water distiller because those were the only ones we have on hand, the inventions only being around for a few moons. But I can sell a few of the plows, harnesses, and seed drills and still have some for Ibben.
"I can sell a few farming implements but I can't sell the rocket stove or distiller. I can, however, write to my brother to begin exporting them to Lorath." I respond as Prince Qarlan moves his king to create distance from my trebutchet. Vogan translates for me but the Fisher Prince cuts in, this time speaking accented Common Tongue.
"This one will pay handsomely for the right to import and sell your rocket stoves in Lorath. They are superior to the portable stoves from Yi-Ti." Prince Vygaro mentions the small portable stoves imported by the Essosi elite made of cast iron. The Yi-Tish don't trade directly with Lorath, their traders rarely entering the Narrow Sea, let alone the Shivering Sea, so instead, Lorathi traders sail to Volantis to acquire Yi-Tish goods, which gives me an idea. What if we acquire Yi-Tish goods and sail to places like Lorath to sell them for profit? I contemplate asking my brother as I move my trebuchet to threaten Prince Qarlan's king again. At the same time, a back and forth begins as I negotiate the price of the farming implements with the Harvester Prince. Prince Qarlan captures my trebuchet with his crossbowmen when I reach a settlement the Harvest Prince. Suddenly, I hear Dagwell burst through the door to the captain's quarters with panic on his face.
"Lord Edric, we've arrived at Morosh but look!" We abandon our games and follow Dagwell to the deck of the ship, passing by a group of five off duty Sea Wolves playing Wolfsport Hold'em. When we reach the bow, we gaze out to the gray stone walled city about the size of Wolfsport.
This is the second time I've been to Morosh, a fishing and mining colony of Lorath. My previous time here was to drop off a weapons shipment to the beleaguered defenders before escorting two dozen highborn women and children back to Lorath. This included Prince Qarlan's wife and beautiful daughter, who happened to be my age and was quite eager to show me her appreciation for getting them out of the city. When we sailed into Lorath again, Prince Stannis, his small army of three-and-twenty hundred, and the trade expedition had arrived two days earlier. He met with the Princes of Lorath and the council of magisters led by the Denomys Mestir, the true authority in the Free City, to hash out a war plan. I was tasked with escorting the three princes and their two-and-ten guards in the Thunderbolt to take command of the defense of the colony, creating a bit of a tight fit in the clipper. The Fisher Prince would command the small Lorathi Navy, the Harvest Prince would be charge of the food supply and logistics and the Prince of the Streets would take command of the garrison. The Royal Navy and trade expedition have already set off from Lorath but in their slower cogs and galleys won't arrive for a full two weeks after we do.
I see smoke rising and a city enveloped in chaos as the Dothraki assault the walls by the thousands.
"Look at the western wall!" Dagwell points to the wall closest to the harbor, the princes walk up beside us and curse in their native tongue. The eastern and southern walls facing land were under assault but holding, the western wall, on the other hand, looked to be on the verge of collapse. Qarlan Ennarhan speaks to Vogan in Lorathi, who turns to me.
"Lord Edric, can you spare any men to assist us in the defense. The western wall is on the brink of collapse but the other walls are too busy to aid them!" Vogan translates
"I can spare Dagwell, myself and five-and-twenty Sea Wolves." I gesture to the five-and-twenty Sea Wolves on my ship. Clad in brown leather armor with a large Seastark sigil on their chests and steel helms on their heads. The men, who have gone through weeks of my brother's grueling training regimen of miles long runs, strength training, spars on ships and more, are armed with polearms, boarding axes, and cutlasses and look eager to cross blades with the infamous Dothraki screamers.
"Then we can only pray we are enough." Vogan ominously translates as we disembark the ship. We rush with the princes and their two-and-ten guards towards the western wall to find the Dothraki starting to overwhelm the wall and the morale of the defenders beginning to waver. I'm quick to note that if we act now, we might be able to overwhelm the attackers before their numbers grow too large to contain.
"Dagwell, Sea Wolves with me! Retake the walls! WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOO!" I yell the Seastark house words and howl at the top of my lungs.
"WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOOO!" The Seawolves and Dagwell let out a fierce war cry and charge. As we make our way to the walls, I see the defenders notice us and one begins to shout in their tongue. I can't understand them but they sound relieved to see us, judging from the man's tone. I charge up the stairs with the Seawolves towards to find two dozen defenders being pushed back by more than twice their number of furred clad Dothraki screamers with more being added by the two wooden ladders attached to the wall.
One Dothraki, with three braids, charges at me, screaming with his strange sickle-shaped sword and I parry his blow with the sword my brother gave me, the very first sword forged from steel made in his ingenious steel furnace. I bash the man with my shield, stunning him and giving me the time needed to stab my blade through his chest. The Sea Wolves immediately engage the Dothraki in fierce battle, the Northerners fighting to reach the ladders to tip over or disable them. The Lorathi defenders' morale bolsters at our unexpected aid and they begin to fight harder against the invaders
I move forward and engage another Dothraki, this time with five braids, recalling how in Dothraki custom, a braid with a bell is weaved into the hair of their warriors for each kill. His attacks are fierce and powerful but uncoordinated. I feint a shield bash, drawing an opening when he goes to defend it and I slice his arm just below the elbow. The copper-skinned man bellows in agony before I stab him in the throat and move forward to parry an incoming attack from a sickle-sword. I exchange blades with the Dothraki screamer, who is using both hands to wield his sword as it seems the Dothraki don't believe in shields. I deflect a heavy overhand strike swipe with my shield before running my blade through him.
I step forward again and notice we're closer to the ladders than we were before and that they're were less Dothraki. Dagwell slices the throat of a Dothraki and moves on to another one and the Sea Wolves begin to push back the savages. I send a silent prayer to the Old Gods for my brother's "stamina training", the awful miles long runs around Wolfsport allowing us to outlast the Dothraki in battle. I fight and slay two more screamers before reaching one of the ladders where a massive Dothraki, at least a foot taller than me, slays a defender with ease before turning to me, wielding a sword in each hand.
His furs are noticeably nicer than the his fellow Dothraki and he has four silver metal bands around his brown mustache, the same brown color as two dozen braids on his head. He points his right arm sword at me and yells something in his savage tongue but I immediately attack and put him on the defensive. He blocks one of my swipes and uses his immense size and strength to push me back and I barely have enough time to block one sword strike with my shield and another with my sword. He feints a swipe to my left before attacking my right and I duck under a horizontal slash that would have taken my head before thrusting my sword forward only for him to jump back and dodge, putting some space between us. I meet his cold brown eyes before we surge forward and cross blades again. Our weapons whirl around us in a blur between each heavy clang before catches me on a feint and punishes me with a slash to the left shoulder, the leather armor fails to stop the blade from cutting into my flesh and I let out a hiss of pain. The Dothraki smirks before continuing his onslaught, focusing on my now weaker left arm holding my shield due to my shoulder wound. I finally get an opening when a particularly heavy strike to my shield knocks me backwards but I exaggerate how much the blow affected me by wobbling more than needed and loudly yelling in pain. My opponent takes the bait and rushes forward to attack, thinking I'm completely open, only for me to quickly recover and parry one of his blades. The other meets my shield in a loud clang that sends a jolt of pain in my left shoulder but I ignore it when I use the opening to run my blade into his chest. The warrior's face freezes, not in agony but in shock, as if him losing wasn't suppose to happen before slumping over as I pull my blade out.
I don't take the moment to savor the hard-fought victory and rush towards the siege ladder.
"KHALAKKA VEKHATJIN! VEZOF!" I hear one of the savages yell out and chaos breaks out amongst their numbers and I spot Dagwell at the ladder trying to dislodge it. I get to the ladder to find a screamer standing at the top about to jump down and attack him. I don't give him the chance when I stab him in the groin with my sword. He bellows in agony, wobbles and falls backwards, but not before his foot catches the man underneath him and pulls him down. The two men plummet towards the ground with one of them catching a third man on the way down. I quickly rush to help Dagwell dislodge the ladder and with the reduced wait and our combined strength we manage to do it. I turn to see a group of three Sea Wolves dislodge the other ladder as the few Dothraki left on the walls were being mopped up by the defenders.
When the last savage is slain by a Sea Wolf, I raise my sword and call out the Seastark house words, only to have two-and-twenty respond. I hiss in pain from my shoulder wound when I hear Dagwell call out.
"Lord Edric, you're injured!" He immediately hands me a rag and I sheath my sword to apply the rag to the wound.
"I'll be good once I get to the ship's healer. He'll clean it with the "woundcleanser" and apply the bandages. Until, collect the bodies of the fallen so their bones may be taken back to the North." I grit my teeth and Dagwell carries out my orders. The woundcleanser is a clear liquid that reeked strongly of alcohol, used to clean wounds and prevent rot from taking hold. Made after my brother started working with one of the local brandy distillers to create it.
When we move to leave, we're stopped by the three princes and Vogan translates.
"A thousand thanks for the assistance of you and your men. We are fortunate you killed the khalakka when you did. It caused the attack to stop before they could overrun us! You and your men will be richly rewarded!" I furrow my brow in confusion at the unfamiliar word. Vogan, witnessing my confusion, explains.
"A khalakka is the heir to a khalasar. The large warrior you slayed was Botho, Khal Motho's second born son!" I'm shocked at the translator's words but nod.
"I remember a tall Dothraki in nicer furs and some silver but I didn't realize I slayed their prince!" I gaze over the walls to the Dothraki siege camps out of arrow range next to the frozen Sarne river delta. I spot thousands of animal hide tents and even a few small structures completely made of ice! In the distance I can see large herds of reindeer and musk oxen as well as their precious horses and warriors and slaves scurry around the camp like ants.
"How would you like to collect your bounty?" Vogan asks, drawing my eyes away from the horde surrounding the city.
"Bounty?" I murmur in confusion and the translator nods.
"Yes, you and your men assisted in the defense of the city and you have slain a khalakka in personal combat! The princes and magisters have placed bounties on Khal Motho and his sons after they killed our messengers of peace so how would you like to be compensated?" The translator asks again but the ache of the wound and the heaviness of my body now that the battle high is gone leaves me wanting to get my wound dealt with and pass out.
"We'll talk compensation after I get patched up and we deal with the three dead." I leave with the five other wounded Sea Wolves, some of whom have to be supported by their comrade back to the Thunderbolt for some woundcleanser, bandages, and shut-eye…
Two weeks later…
"ATHDRIVAR TAT KAZGA VER!" The eastern gate shakes from the force of the battering ram slamming into it. My bandaged shoulder aches as I hear the Dothraki scream the same war cry they've called out the last four times they attacked since we arrived. When asked, Vogan translated it to "Death to the black wolf!" from their tongue and it didn't take a maester to figure out they were referring to me. Apparently the death of his son and heir infuriated Khal Motho and he proclaimed any Dothraki that brings him the head of the "black wolf warrior" will become a new ko in his khalasar.
The once three thousand defenders of the colony now reduced to half that number, spread thin along the walls of the city as more than ten thousand Dothraki swarm the walls and assault the gates. The gate shudders again from another blow, pieces of wood flying off but still holding. I gaze up to the walls to see Dagwell and seven of the remaining four-and-ten Sea Wolves dislodge a wooden ladder before clashing with the Dothraki already on the walls. I grip the spear given by the Lorathi as I stand with the other seven remaining Sea Wolves, the Fisher Prince and several hundred defenders as a loud boom reverberates throughout the area and the broken gates slam wide.
"ATHDRIVAR TAT KAZGA VER!" The invaders call for my head as I see a menacing battering ram with a large iron horse head before dozens of Dothraki horsemen attempt to swarm into the city, charging straight into a shield wall hastily put up by the defenders. The spears stab the horses and Dothraki with their agonized screams echoing in the gatehouse, yet still they charge.
"Lord Edric!" I hear Prince Vygaro call out from atop his white warhorse. "The center is holding but the flanks are being pushed back!" I look and confirm his words. The invaders were slowly pushing outward from the flanks, threatening to envelop the center and crush the defenders of the gates in one fell swoop.
"Take your men and aid the left flank, my men and I will aid the right flank!" The Fisher Prince orders before charging with his men towards the fighting.
"You heard the Lorathi prince, hold the left flank! WINTER'S HOWL! AWOOOO!" I yell out my house words and howl before charging, the Sea Wolves mimicking my actions and following one step behind. Rather than intimidate the savages, our wolf howls send them into a frenzy. The howls alerting them to the presence of the "black wolf" that their khal put a bounty on.
We reach the left flank just as the Dothraki bloodriders were beginning to overwhelm the defenders through sheer mass, numbers, and ferocity moving immediately to engage. I stab a Dothraki with my spear and he falls off his horse, who moves out of the way just for another bloodrider to come screaming at me. I plant my feet and bend my knees slightly before thrusting my spear into the charging horse. I hit in the chest and the momentum of the horse pushes me back and causes the rider to launch forwards headfirst into the cobblestone streets and landing with a sickening crunch. I yank my spear out of the dead horse and rejoin the shield wall.
The Sea Wolves and I fall into a deadly rhythm. Stab, yank, parry, stab, then repeat. We hold the left flank from their relentless charges amidst being pelted by arrows, javelins, and throwing axes. After what feels like hours, I hear a man scream something in Lorathi before the Dothraki break through the center.
The bloodriders spill forth into the city like a flood and with all the fury of one. I spot a throwing axe incoming and side step to avoid it before stabbing my spear into another rider, killing him. I call for the five remaining Sea Wolves to fall back when I hear yells, not in Lorathi but in Common Tongue!
"WE REMEMBER!" "AS STRONG AS STONE!" "HARK THE RAVEN!" "LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS!" I hear the house words of House Royce, Redfort, Corbray, Waxley, and other Vale houses as fresh Westerosi men-at-arms clash with bloodied, exhausted Dothraki.
I yell out my house words and howl with the remaining five Sea Wolves and charge at the invaders. I knock another bloodrider off his horse before finishing him off. I watch a Sea Wolf take a throwing axe to the face and crumple to the ground before I turn around and meet the charge of another Dothraki rider. I stab into his horse, sending the man flying forwards. I attempt to yank the spear out of the dying horse only for the shaft to break. I throw away the useless shaft and as I draw my sword I sense someone behind me.
"LOOK OUT!" I hear a Vale accent call out and turn around in time to see a man in partial plate armor stab a Dothraki with his sword about to swing down on me. His steel breastplate shows what looks like the Titan of Braavos as he pulls his sword from the dead man. Before I can thank him for saving my life, more Dothraki pour through the gates and we continue to battle the invaders.
After what feels like hours, just as I'm on my last legs, I hear the Dothraki yell out something in their tongue and confusion ripples throughout their ranks. Then all hell breaks lose as some Dothraki slit their own throats, others begin attacking each other while most flee out of the gate to their camps with the Lorathi defenders cheering. I glance at the man who saved me and he seems as confused as I am to the sudden change in the Dothraki. The Westerosi knights glance around in confusion before the Fisher Prince walks up bloodied but smiling.
"Khal Motho is dead! His bloodriders kill themselves out of shame and his kos are abandoning the siege to start their own khalasars! Morosh is saved!" Prince Vygaro calls out in Common Tongue. I and the Westerosi within earshot let out cheers of jubilation before disposing of the few remaining Dothraki on the walls.
After the battle ends, I regroup with a bloodied Dagwell and ten remaining Sea Wolves.
"Lord Edric of House Seastark?" I hear my name and see Ser Robar Royce, Ser Jasper Redfort, and Ser Lyn Corbray walking up to us.
"Aye, that's me." I say with an exhausted voice, the last two weeks having taken their toll on me.
"Lord Edric, I see you've survived the Dothraki savages. We're currently securing the city but tell us of the siege!" Ser Robar says and I tell them of slaying Khalakka Jotho on my first day here, the four following attacks on the city that I aided in repelling, including this one. Their eyes widen at what we had to endure and I see respect in their eyes, albeit begrudgingly from Ser Lyn. Ser Robar explains that Prince Stannis led the Stormlanders and Crownlanders to the southern gate while Ser Wendel Manderly led the Northerners to defend the western gate. Our conversation shifts to Cyvasse when Ser Lyn brings up the Essosi boardgame and it turns out the three knights shared my newfound love for the game along with Prince Stannis. I suddenly remember to ask about the knight who saved me.
"By the way, a Vale knight saved my life in the final part of the battle. I didn't recognize his house sigil but it looked like the head of the Titan of Braavos. Do you know who and where he is so I can express my gratitude." I say and see their faces light up in surprise and recognition.
"Yes, that's Lord Petyr of House Baelish! He's not a knight but he's over there by Ser Benedar of House Elesham." Ser Jasper points to a thin, brown-haired man who looks four or five years older than me. Lord Petyr has taken his helm off but I recognize the house sigil on his breastplate. I thank the Vale knights and head over to the man who saved my life, despite being surprised he isn't a knight.
"Lord Petyr?" I inquire and the man turns and looks surprised at my presence before excusing himself from Ser Benedar.
"I am him. What do you wish to discuss Lord Edric?" Lord Petyr smirks and I'm put on edge by the slimy nature of it.
"Lord Petyr, you saved my life when you slayed that Dothraki screamer while my back was turned." I say solemnly and his smirk widens.
"Oh, it was nothing Lord Edric! I am no warrior! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time!" Lord Petyr responds.
"I don't know about you southerners, but we Northmen take this kind of thing seriously. I owe you a blood debt." I say and his face flashes with intrigue.
"A blood debt?" He repeats the words inquisitively.
"Aye. For saving my life, I owe you what we Northerners call a 'blood debt'. It means I owe you a favor. You can call it in at any time and I will do almost anything. Someone who owes a blood debt can refuse a favor if it, let's say, involves kinslaying." I explain.
"Oh, I would never ask you to do something so heinous as kinslaying!" He says in grave offense but I get the impression he's putting on a mummer's act. We talk, him about working for the Royal Trade Company collecting customs duties implementing the New Royal Standard, the new standard or weights and measurements proclaimed by the King. It mixes the King's Landing, Storm's End, and Eyrie standards into one similar to how the Common standard is a mix of multiple standards into one. I talk about my journey here and the battles I fought. Despite him seeming a bit smarmy, I find him to be a good conversation partner Eventually the conversation winds down and he goes to part ways.
"It has been an honor to meet you, Lord Edric! It's good to know that the brother of 'Hugo the Inventor' owes me a favor. I won't use it now, but rest assured you'll hear from me." He gives me one last smirk as he mentions the nickname my brother has been given by the Southroners before leaving. Ser Robar calls out to the Westerosi that all highborn are to meet with Prince Stannis is the city palace, home to the magister that runs Morosh, while the men-at-arms hold the walls and gates against any unexpected Dothraki attack. I let out a tired sign and head with the knights and lords deeper into the city to meet with the prince…
A/N: The siege of Morosh is finished! Edric gets his chance to shine and Petyr Baelish makes his debut! The defeat of the Dothraki due to Westerosi intervention is going to have impacts in the immediate neighborhood and eventually, elsewhere.
In the books, Cyvasse is just starting to make it to Westeros and becoming popular with the highborn. Here, the Westerosi are introduced to it by the Lorathi earlier and it's going to cross the Narrow Sea a good decade and half earlier than canon. Cyvasse is going to take the place of chess, but don't worry, Hugo's already invented checkers! Enjoy