THE KEEPER
Chapter 4: Sea Keeper
"I can't believe we're wearing these." Podrick's voice was barely above a whisper. "We're wearing the uniform of the Golden Company."
He smoothed down the golden tunic he wore over his clean shirt and breeches, looking bright and freshly scrubbed and far too excited. He skipped to keep up with Brienne. She also looked down at his tunic.
"I can't believe we're wearing them, either." Her tone was distinctly sour. "I don't understand what Serjeant was thinking."
"He was thinking we'd be proud to wear the sign of the bravest, strongest and most disciplined fighting company in Essos." Podrick finally caught sight of her deep scowl. "You're not pleased, my Lady, Ser?"
"How does he expect us to capture pirates when we announce our presence with these ridiculous garments?" Brienne shook her own tunic, as if hoping the bright golden-yellow would fall off the shimmery, silken material.
"He must have a plan. The Golden Company is famous for never breaking a contract and always completing their service," Podrick pointed out. "They wouldn't have their reputation if their word wasn't as good as gold." He paused and the awestruck expression returned. "And now we are a part of them."
Brienne stopped walking, forcing him to skid to a stop. The dock was busy with midday workers, tradesmen and merchants. Even so, everyone gave them a respectful distance, eyeing the obvious golden tunics, careful not to touch or meet the gaze of the most fearsome warriors in Essos. She ignored them to focus on Podrick.
"We are not part of them." Brienne kept her voice low. "We are only working on their ship to get to Tyrosh as quickly as possible. Our goal is to find Arya Stark, not chase glory down the Narrow Sea."
Podrick nodded. "Yes, my Lady, Ser, but isn't it only right we give them fair effort while we're with them?"
She stood very straight. "Of course. It would be dishonorable to fail our side of the bargain."
His grin rivaled the sun. "Then we are part of the Golden Company until we dock in Tyrosh."
She scowled but nodded. They walked on to where Serjeant stood on the dock, his back to them, yelling orders to men wearing the highly visible gold tunics. He turned his head and grunted at them when they stopped beside them.
"You're finally here,' he observed.
"Exactly when ordered to appear," Brienne pointed out.
"Can I be of assistance, Ser Serjeant?" Podrick asked. "I can help carry in supplies."
"Don't call me 'ser', I'm not a knight," Serjeant ordered. "We're all officers in the Company. Serjeant is my rank. My name is Loth but you call me Serjeant, not Ser Serjeant, understood?"
Podrick flushed. "I'm sorry, Serjeant, ser. I meant no disrespect."
"Stand up straight, boy," Serjeant ordered. "You're now part of the most elite brotherhood of exiles in the known world."
"Brotherhood of exiles," Brienne repeated. "Do you still consider yourself Westerosi?"
"Aye," Serjeant agreed. "Some of our men are exiles or sons of exiles. They'd kill for the chance to retrieve the lands and titles they've lost." His eyes narrowed. "Many are descendants of the Stormlands, like you."
Brienne nodded. "Perhaps the day will come when you'll be welcomed back home."
Serjeant turned back to watch the ship. "Until then, we train, fight and maintain our reputation. That's also why we accepted this contract."
"To train your forces to fight at sea?" Brienne questioned.
Serjeant's head turned sharply to look at her. "What do you know about that?"
"I know the Golden Company is the greatest fighting force on land, with men, horses and war elephants. But elephants and horses are useless in the sea." Brienne paused to watch his face flush. "Plus, there are additional enemies on the water, including disease and sickness. It isn't enough that your men are undefeated on land. You must master the seas if you want to build the company to truly be the greatest fighting force in the world."
Serjeant nodded. "Our land force is unbeatable but we don't have a naval presence – yet."
"And you won't with these blindingly bright tunics," Brienne pointed out.
Serjeant scowled. "The gold is our symbol; smooth, clean, with no allegiances to any house or family but the one we chose to join."
'Beneath the gold, the bitter steel'. Brienne recalled their motto. Under the shine of their obvious wealth, the discipline of their perfectly regimented men, and the drama of their war elephants was the unbending steel of the greatest free company in the known world.
"A fearsome sight indeed," Brienne agreed, "when you're charging an oncoming army but utterly useless when you're trying to trap serpents and eels."
Serjeant straightened. "What?"
"How many pirate ships have you crushed, how many pirates have you captured while flashing your ridiculous warning signal?" Brienne straightened to try to match his considerable height.
Serjeant scowled. "Their ships are smaller, lighter and faster than the ones we protect. But," he loomed over her again, "the ones we do protect haven't suffered a single attack. Our master-of-ships, a former Lyseni pirate, is developing a strategy for taking down pirates."
"So, until then you'll allow your men to be guards instead of warriors? How will they learn to fight at sea if they don't engage the enemy?" she asked calmly, refusing to be intimidated.
"Do you have a plan to engage pirates?" he demanded. "Better than a former Lyseni pirate?"
"What does a pirate know about taking out other pirates?" she demanded. "I lived on an island all of my life. Pirate attacks are common. We had to learn how to stop them, quickly and immediately, as we didn't have a full company of the greatest fighters in the world to save us."
"Our way will be better; efficient and clean." Serjeant insisted.
"But your way doesn't exist yet. Until it does, your master-of-ship's plans are just words." Her mouth curled. "And words are wind."
He stood tall, hands on hips. "What do you propose?"
"Do you have a ram ship?" she shot back.
He blinked. "What?"
"Can you get a ship that will hold one hundred men, weapons and supplies? One that looks like a good target for pirates?"
Serjeant nodded slowly. "Yes."
She nodded in return. "And do you have a good blacksmith who will build a weapon without asking questions?"
He snorted. "Of course."
"Take me to him." She pulled off the golden tunic. "And take this. We won't warn anyone of our approach. The men need to look like ordinary workers, not fighters."
He took the tunic. "Have you done this before?"
Her smile was savage with anticipation. "Many, many times."
Two days later, Brienne stood on the deck of the Sea Keeper, watching the calm seas around them. Griff and Podrick stood beside her at the ship's rail.
"How long before we reach Tyrosh?" she asked Griff.
"Three days. We have calm waters and good headwind today." He also looked around. "But no pirates."
"Yesterday wasn't a good day, the waters were rough and choppy," she pointed out. "They won't attack when they can't board the ship they want to raid."
"I can understand that." Podrick held the rail with both hands, his complexion pale and a bit green.
"Pod, why don't you lie down below deck?" Griff suggested.
"I'm better today," the squire insisted. "The calm waters and fresh air help."
"Ships on starboard port!" the lookout called.
"How many?" Griff shouted up.
"Three," the lookout reported. "One main ship and two small boats with oars."
"The small boats are their lookouts," Brienne explained. "They'll check to see if we have protection and to determine if our ship is worth attacking."
Serjeant came to join them, dressed in the same dull shirt and breeches as they wore. "So how do we convince them to attack us?"
Brienne smiled. "By using our secret weapon."
She nodded to Podrick, who was dressed in a handsome blue jacket, black breeches and shiny boots. Podrick turned a shade greener.
"Do you remember what to do, Pod?" Griff asked him.
Podrick grimaced. "Stand near the captain and look terrified? Yes, I can do that."
"Good man." Griff patted him on the back. "Off you go."
"Alert the rest of the men," Serjeant ordered Griff.
"But quietly!" Brienne hissed the reminder to him.
Griff nodded to indicate he had heard her.
"Now, remember to wait for my command." Brienne watched the approaching boats as they came closer. "No one should leave their positions until we capture the main ship. The boats don't have enough men to board us. Once they see Podrick and decide we're helpless, they'll go back to the ship. That contains their fighters. We'll disable them on my signal."
"Aye," Serjeant nodded. "The battering ram is ready. But we need perfect timing to lock it in place just before we crash into their ship."
"Yes." She glanced down then away from the modification in the Sea Keeper's bow.
A hole large enough to fit a man's head had been cut into the wood. Currently it was covered with a matching wood door to disguise it and control water influx. They couldn't open it until it was too late for the pirate ship to retreat from them.
"The ram men are ready," Griff returned. "Everyone is moving into place."
Brienne looked over her shoulder as the men moved into positions, dressed as simply as she was, their gleaming swords held under their legs as they knelt, out of sight of the oncoming boats. Ropes had been stretched across the deck and tied down at each end, to give the men hand holds to brace them at impact. Other men filled the steps leading below quarters, tense but controlled, as they waited for their turns.
She, Griff and Serjeant watched the boats coming closer. Podrick, resplendent and sickly beside the simply dressed captain, held the rail with both hands and visibly shuddered. The pirates below laughed and shifted their course to return to the main ship.
"Excellent work, Pod," Griff called up softly.
Podrick nodded weakly, still holding the rail for dear life.
They waited, tense and expectant, as the small boats were hauled into the main ship. The pirates shifted their sails, allowing the ship to steer towards them. Brienne kept her breathing deep and even with effort. Sweat and anticipation soured the air around her. Still, the company men moved calmly and carefully, too disciplined and experienced to give away the game.
"The ship is approaching," the lookout called.
More men came up on deck, crawling on their knees, sliding their swords across the wood, to keep them out of the pirates' sights. An officer nodded to Brienne, taking his position at the top of the steps. She knew another officer was positioned at the bottom of the stairs, ready to call to the men on the lower deck holding the metal ramming pole, waiting for the command to shove it through the hole and lock it into place.
Serjeant went to the captain and patted Podrick on the shoulder. Griff moved closer to a barrel near them, where they'd hidden their swords after their morning practice. She been surprised when Griff, and all the other men, willingly practiced with her, even gave her tips and praised her swordplay. The knights in Renly's Kingsguard barely spoke to her, considered it an insult that Renly had allowed her to join them. They never helped her sharpen her skills and possibly improve further beyond them.
The pirate ship was now close enough that Brienne could see the men, the sun gleaming on their uncovered blades. The scavengers made no attempt to hide them. The blood rushed in her ears; the heat of upcoming battle flushed her cheeks.
"Captain!" Podrick screeched dramatically. "They have weapons!"
The ship was close enough that Brienne could hear their laughter. They wouldn't be laughing for long. Just another moment more and they'd be in catch range. Almost, almost, almost…
"Now!" Brienne called.
The officers echoed her command down to the hull of the ship. She heard a dull thud as the ramming pole was shoved out the opening and the screech of metal on metal as it was locked into place.
"Rope holds!" The captain called as he turned the wheel.
The men grabbed the ropes strung out across the deck as the ships collided and the rammer tore into the pirate ship's hull, locking it against their ship. The reverberation shuddered through the Sea Keeper but the men held tight. Brienne, her grip on the railing white-knuckled, looked over to the pirates' ship. The impact had knocked them all off their feet, some even looked dazed.
"Take them!" she yelled.
Then Oathkeeper was in her hand and Griff was at her side. They leapt across to the pirate ship, swords out and slashing even as the pirates scrambled to their feet. The rest of the company swarmed over behind them, their battle cries and singing steel drowning out the screams of their opponents.
The battle was ridiculously short. The Golden Company was too organized and disciplined to be challenged by the sea looters. Brienne had barely even lost her breath before the fighting ended, their adversaries on their knees or on their backs, their blood slick pools decorating the deck. The men whooped, raised their blood-soaked swords and looked to her.
"Brienne, raise your sword," Griff ordered.
She looked around. "What?"
"You led the raid, raise your sword," he urged her. "Over your head."
Brienne frowned but raised her sword high. Griff touched his sword to hers then the other men swarmed around them, trying to touch their swords to hers, too. They looked at her expectantly. Griff leaned close and whispered the words into her ear. She stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. He nodded in encouragement.
Emotions played across her face, nearly causing it to crumple. But it didn't, she didn't. Her voice was strong and sure.
"Beneath the gold, the bitter steel!"
The men roared with approval. They repeated the chant. Suddenly, Tristan and another giant of a man raised her on their shoulders. She laughed and held her sword up to the sky, glowing and triumphant. The men cheered again. She had to turn her face to the sun to hide the sudden wash of tears.
She was a member of the Golden Company; accepted, appreciated, victorious.
She was a warrior.