The galley rocked back and forth with tremendous force. He could feel his breakfast rise to his throat. The wind was powerful and it seemed like a God was punishing them and wanted them to die.
Marlon
They arrived at the gates of Sisterton. 600 strong. He was informed that the siege would begin at sundown and he had that exciting but nervous feeling in his stomach. Sisterton was empty. Dead. The Levy Northmen were tasked with taking the gates off their hinges. The men were unbelievably chatty towards him. "Mornin mi'lord!" For some reason the men had succumb to calling him 'my lord'. He never liked the sound of it. He told his cousin before leaving "I can't do it. I can't lead them. They won't follow me. I simply cannot do it, Wyman.", "You can, Marlon. You're a Manderly of the North and you were born to lead. They will respect you and if they don't then earn it." He snapped back to reality when Ondrew was in his face asking him if he's okay. "I'm fine. Are you ready?" That grin. That unclean grin. The type you know you cannot trust. "Aye we're ready."
The gates opened and out came a Rebel on horseback bearing a white flag. Marlon rode forth to meet him along with Ondrew. "May I know your name, ser?". "Why does it matter what my name is?" replied the Rebel. He was donned in rusting armour and he looked weak. "My name is Aemon Reed and Sisteron is mine. I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement and avoid bloodshed. We will be taking your weapons, that ship and it's supplies or you will die."Marlon snapped back "How dare you. You are outnumbered it seems. Lay down your swords and I promise a merciful death for you and your men. Refuse me and you will suffer." Aemon just smiled. "You will find that men have being trying to kill me for years and they failed. I look forward to hanging you from the gate with your entrails out, or just maybe, I'll send Lord Too Fat your head back." Ondrew piped up, "You die tonight, traitor. You'd be smart not to anger this one. He's notorious for his temper." And it was over.
The men were in position and waited for the call to begin pounding at the gates. The horn blew, a long and eerie sound. The sound of death. The sound of blood, tears and battle. War sounds. "Knock. Draw. LOOSE!" 150 arrows went rippling over the gates and most found their target. The gates were gone and men were pouring through and fighting. Chanting and screaming. Shouts of "The North Remembers" and "White Harbour" went up as steel kissed steel. Horses screamed but mostly men died.
It was over. Sisteron belonged to House Manderly.