Pre-Chapter A/N: More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
"Is Tarth the most beautiful island in the Seven Kingdoms?" I found myself wondering as we stared at the island as it revealed itself through the early morning mists. Lord Tarth had not come in person with his ships, but had sent his son and heir, Quentin Tarth, to lead the barges that had been assigned to moving our Stormland force from the mainland over to the island. From there, it would be up to my father to ferry us the rest of the way, and he and his ships were scheduled to arrive any day now.
Back to the island, though. It had a wild look, like it was untouched by man for most of its surface. Sure, there was Evenfall Hall rising above its tallest hills, and several fishing villages that looked to dot the coastline, but beyond that, much of the island seemed to be covered in lush green hilltops and virgin land. And then there were the seas that surrounded it. I knew from my lessons that Tarth suffered storms as terrible as the rest of the Stormlands every so often, but that was difficult to reconcile with what my eyes could see now. Blue seas as far as the eye could see that seemed almost still with how little they moved. Their waters reflected the sky perfectly, giving the entire area a blue glow that was difficult to find unappealing.
"Captivating, isn't it?" I found Borros asking by my side.
"It's something else," I replied. Something otherworldly, I thought but did not say.
"Yes, that is exactly what I thought once I saw it. Now, get your jaw off the floor before the men start laughing at you," he said, giving me a clap along my back that would have made me stumble mere days earlier. I'd gotten used to his sudden touches at this point, and while they were far from acceptable in my opinion, they had become tolerable at the very least.
"Yes, Ser Borros," I said. And then there was something on his face again.
"Is something the matter, Ser Borros?" I asked next.
"No. Nothing. Get going," he said, and that was it. He turned away to talk to some knight or the other about some thing or the other, and I was left to watch the approaching island on my own. As he left, I turned my thoughts to him. To be honest, a lot of the time it felt like there were two versions of Borros. There was Borros who was sarcastic but kind, and the one that was cruel. It just seemed like the version of him I met more often these days was the cruel one.
I still remembered the first days after he returned from hunting Dornish raiders in the marshlands—he hadn't been able to find a single one and got outsmarted at every turn. His father, Boremund, had not even organized an official reception, but still he had shown up to the yard early that morning and helped me out with a few things before Manfred's next chosen opponent for me showed up and I had to leave him. The next day he hadn't shown up, but he'd been nice enough the few times I ran into him in the hallways, and then he had switched up on me like it was a coin being flipped or whatever.
"Are you ready, my lord?" Ser Ben asked, leaving his position at the back of my shoulder to step to my side, ever the watchful shadow.
"To meet Lord Tarth? No offense to him, but I ride a dragon. The question should be if he's ready to meet me," I said so quietly that only the two of us could hear, and he released a quick laugh that died out quickly.
"No. I didn't mean that. Lord Tarth is only a step on the way. From there it's to the Stepstones. To war." He said.
"They're pirates. It's not going to be much of a war," I said, repeating the words I'd heard the Baratheon men-at-arms say to themselves while on a journey to dig themselves into their cups as deep as they could get.
"You're not stupid enough to think that. They might be pirates, but they can kill a man just as surely as a knight could, and trust me when I say they'll shit themselves when they die just like all men do. Are you ready to do that? To look a man in his eyes and know that either you will end his life or he will end yours. To know that a woman somewhere will starve and die without that man to bring food home. To know that a child will grow up without a father because of your actions. Many children, many women. That is the reality of war, young Lord. They will cry, they will beg, they will rage, and you must kill them all the same. It will be unfair. You have been raised since you could walk to be a killer of men. These men turned to piracy for nothing else could sustain them. And you will kill them for it. Not for survival, not for your peace of mind because they do little to yours, but because you want them dead and that is it." He said, giving me a grave look.
"Have you been at war before, Ser Ben? Is the realm not at peace?" I asked, watching him turn to me before he released a harsh laugh that echoed and drew attention towards us.
"The realm is never at peace, young Lord." When he spoke, his laughter died. There was something heavy, both behind his voice and his eyes.
"What do you mean? The realm has not known true war since Maegor slit his wrists against the blades of the Iron Throne. The debacle with the Dornish shouldn't count as you weren't involved in that," I said, and it was true. This was the largest uninterrupted period of peace in Targaryen rule so far. They had brought peace, and thus prosperity to Westeros.
"And yet, nary a year ago, your knight rode at the head of a column a hundred strong to put down bandits in the Eastern Stormlands. You think Cracklaw Point has any fewer? I assure you we have more. Why do you think your Lord Father patrols his island with such vigor and thoroughness? Not because he enjoys spending the gold on men-at-arms, but because there is no shortage of men willing to kill for their own aims. To kill for bread, or for meat, or for a groat. Is there peace where men and women get slaughtered in their homes by the dozens? Where merchants need pay for protection to ply the roads? No. There can never be peace in the realm. Just smaller wars. Wars between dozens of men and not thousands. That is the best we could hope for," he said, resolute. I looked at him again, and it was clear that he truly did believe what he was saying, and that made it all the more worrying.
"It's not much of a society if you've got people falling into banditry out of desperation so often." His laughter this time was less harsh, more thoroughly amused.
"And what would you do? That is the nature of the smallfolk. Some of them will till the land for their daily bread, and some of them would kill another man to snatch his from his belly before his body cools. That is their nature, and it is why the Seven have given us, the nobility, the right to rule over them. We are a higher breed of man who aspire to more than bread and war year after year. We rule them because left to their own devices, they would see themselves destroyed by their own nature," he said. I gave him a doubtful look but did not say anything further.
This was neither the time nor the place to be expressing my disagreement with the prevalent theology. Especially since I was so little informed about the finer points of it. I attended the Sept as every good young Lord ought, and paid enough attention to my Septons to avoid being called out for it, but the truth was religion had just never interested me much. If there were gods, then they probably had better things to worry about than what we were doing down here. Besides, if any gods were real, it would probably be a set from my old life, and not the fictional creation of George Martin's deviant mind.
We arrived at Tarth in no time, and then were promptly informed that Corlys' ships had been sighted and it was only a few hours until he would arrive by their calculations. Of course, I knew it would be faster. Especially if they'd started using any of the newer designs I'd "dreamt up." Indeed, I was right and in an hour and change, my father arrived at the head of a fleet. His ship was a smooth thing that was carved at an angle. A caravel—Westeros' first caravel, I was certain. He was the kind of man that would either sail at the helm of the first or the best. Behind him were dozens of ships, stretching out as far as I could see into the horizon.
Some of them were the same make as the Laena Velaryon, refitted and rejigged from pleasure ships into troop carriers, I knew. The others were the more traditional warships made for naval battles. Strong bows for ramming, scorpions aboard for shooting other ships and rupturing their own hulls—that had been a choice here. Bring better scorpion technology into this world ran the risk of those scorpions being used against our dragons at some point, but that was a concern for the future as my attention returned to the man at the flagship. I used Lord Tarth's far eye to look at him, only to notice he was using one of his own to scout the coast.
I watched him as he stared at the coast. I noted how his eyes spanned the coast like he was searching for something before they found me and they stopped. We met even from this distance, and I knew that smile that grew over his face was only for me.
Still, he disembarked his ship, did all the rites, and we did not speak until near half an hour after we first saw each other.
"My son," he said, grabbing hold of both my shoulders.
"Father," I said with a breath. And shockingly, I found myself feeling the urge to shed tears. What in the puberty was this?
"You've grown so much. I knew the Baratheons would make you strong, but I never anticipated they would turn my son into a giant," he said, and it was only then that I noticed the angle of his hands as they reached for my shoulder. They were slanted upwards. It was very slight. Barely enough to be noticeable, but I was taller than Corlys now. Somehow, that made me want to cry even more. Fuck.
"I'm so proud of you," he said before his hands clenched and he pulled me into his embrace.
"I've missed you, father," I said, and then I could not stop myself from sniffling into his shoulder. Fucking Puberty. I tried to pull back to get myself back in order, but Corlys maintained his hold on me, not even letting go. It was only then that I noticed his body was shaking as well. He was crying too?
The war planning took place in Lord Tarth's solar. At least the first session of it. I stood at Borros' back even as much as I wished to sit next to Corlys instead. But that was the nature of squireship. Some would argue that Borros had more authority over me than Corlys did right now, and they would be partly right. It wasn't unusual for knights to do things like arrange marriages for their squires, something that was usually the sole duty and power of parents.
"From here, we split into two bands," Corlys said, beginning to lay out his plan. He took two carved ships and placed them against the map he'd brought with him from his flagship. Few houses bothered to have detailed maps that covered more than their holdings, so it was no surprise that the Tarths did not have one, and it was no surprise that Corlys had thought of this fact in his own plan-making and organizing.
One of the model ships, he slid straight to one of the marked islands on the Stepstones. The other ship, he moved at a slower pace towards Bloodstone.
"Bloodstone is the most important of the islands of the Stepstones. Grey Gallows, for all its notoriety, still comes second to Bloodstone when it comes to size, importance, and prominence. That is why Bloodstone will be the first step in this invasion. In truth, the second, but I'll get to that," he said, lifting his head to nod at both Lord Tarth and Borros, before he continued.
"The Stormland's forces will be needed in taking Bloodstone. The pirates don't stand a chance of contesting your landing and your sweep of the entire island, so that is where you will go. You will go as the second fleet, made of our special troop carrier class ships as well as a few of our newer model carracks in the unlikely event you face naval engagement."
"Why is that unlikely?" Tarth cut in. Corlys nodded like he did not mind the interruption.
"Because you will be the second fleet. The first fleet, made of our new caravel models and several carracks, as well as my son's special invention, the Dragon Carriers, will make a naval base here, and from here will begin to patrol and strangle the pirates across the islands. As our ships are faster, we should have established naval superiority in time for your ships to arrive and proceed unmolested to Bloodstone."
"I assume you shall have charge of this naval battle team," Borros said, rather than asked. Before he asked his next question.
"And who will have the command of this second group to take Bloodstone?"
"Daemon Targaryen," Corlys said, looking like he was trying to hide a smirk. The Baratheons could protest being under Corlys' command, but not Daemon's. For one, he was a Prince of the Blood. For the other, even now he was a well-known cantankerous arsehole.
At that name, no one said anything further, and they began planning the specifics of the attacks themselves. The troop carriers were already here, while the carracks that would form part of the offensive against the pirates at sea were already on their way to the Stepstones. Corlys would join them on a fleet made of caravels to catch them thanks to their superior speed and make both the landing and the first assault together.
"So that's the plan, gentlemen," Corlys said at the end once he had laid down the proper troop divisions.
"And resources? Once we take Bloodstone and begin to expand into the other islands, it is a possibility that we end up staying long enough to exhaust our present supplies," Lord Tarth asked, looking down at the map with narrowed eyes like he could see that exact thing happening.
"Lord Hightower was kind enough to negotiate an agreement with Lords Redwyne and Tyrell. Redwyne troops will transport food and supplies to us at the Stepstones once we secure a corridor for them to do so," Corlys said, and I nodded with some shock on my face. Why the hell would the Hightowers help us? I wondered. Wouldn't it be for their own good if we lost to the Pirates and exhausted both our resources and men in a failed pacification?
"If that will be all then?" Borros asked, ending the meeting after a few more questions had been asked.
"Yes. Lord Tarth, if you would not mind, I need to discuss some things with Ser Baratheon and my son," Corlys said, and Tarth nodded, leaving us the room and ushering everyone else out.
"What do you want from me?" Borros asked, doing a good job of selling that he was every bit the senseless brute people took him for. Of course, I doubted that most of it was even a facade.
"Your squire."
"Pardon me?"
"We need a dragon to guarantee that we can clear the seas of the pirates quickly enough to ensure that we can secure safe passage for the troops to Bloodstone."
"And what does that have to do with me? A knight is not so easily separated from his squire." He asked.
"Laenor already has some familiarity with naval combat with his dragon. Daemon has refused the role, and I am sure we can agree that war is no place for women so both my wife and my daughter are out of the picture. Laenor is the only choice," Corlys said.
"You would separate a knight from his squire?"
"Never, my lord. I would seek for both you and Laenor to join us."
"Pah, and then I don't get to crack any skulls on solid ground? Where's the glory in that?" He asked then. It was a standoff between both men before I walked forward.
"Father, you said the bulk of the naval fighting will be to contain the pirates on the islands, yes?"
"Yes."
"So we should be done by the time the Stormlanders arrive for their storming of Bloodstone. So why not do both? Ser Borros, you get to compete in both stages of the battle. Is there any role with more glory than that one?" I asked, offering the easy compromise to both men. Corlys looked skeptical and so did Borros, but both men still nodded regardless, accord struck.
A/N:And so we get Corlys making the plan (or at least relaying it) that will shape the war to come. Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.