The destruction of the Courageous woke Admiral Willis Dagher from his slumber in Botley's Keep. Startled, the veteran sailor sprung from his bed and looked out a nearby window. At first, he thought the blast might've been caused by an accident. Perhaps some careless sailor had dropped a lantern in the ship's powder magazine. Then he noticed the silhouettes of longships, dozens of them. More ships caught fire as he watched - men of war, mortar ships, frigates, the galley, even longships. Bells tolled rapidly in alarm throughout the fleet. The two Ferenese brigs, moored at the quays, were making an effort to put to sea. Willis then understood what was happening.
The ironborn had come. His fleet was under attack.
Willis hurriedly dressed in his uniform and boots, buckled on his sword belt and pistol, slung his officer's sash, and sprinted downstairs.
"To quarters!" Willis shouted as he ran. "All hands to your stations!"
Officers began emerging from their own bedchambers and rushed to rally the sailors and marines under their command. Most of the garrison's enlisted, having been quartered in the barracks and in tents within the castle's courtyard, were already awake, roused by the explosion. All around sleepy-eyed men dropped the tents and reached for their gear. The sailors made their way up to the makeshift batteries atop the keep and on the perimeter wall's northern ramparts, while the marines formed up in the courtyard.
Willis, nearly out of breath, arrived in the courtyard just as the marines were forming their platoons. He went up to one of the senior marine officers.
"Captain," said Willis in his gruff voice, "send one third of your men into the keep and leave the rest here. We'll need a reserve force in case the outer defenses should fail."
"Aye aye, sir," the Captain dutifully replied. "First platoon! Follow the Admiral to the keep. Second platoon get up on the ramparts. The rest of you form up behind the gate and the breach."
Willis groaned. That breach was a serious weak spot the castle's defense. After taking the keep, he had ordered a log strung up across the breach and lined with sharp objects. The log stood there now, with various swords, axes, spearheads, and bayonets bristling its surface like metal branches. Any force attempting to get through the breach would need to find their way around the giant hazard. That should buy the defenders some time.
"Marines!" Willis barked. "Follow me!"
The Admiral made his way up to the roof of Botley's Keep. The platoon of marines followed behind him, their boots thumping on the keep's stone stairs. They emerged onto the roof, where four heavy naval guns stood at the ready, their barrels aimed northward at the harbor. Their crews - seven sailors to a gun - had finished loading their weapons and awaited further orders. Dagher ordered the marines to make ready by the gaps between the cannons. Once the cannons fired, the marines were to step forward, discharge their muskets at the enemy, then fall back and reload before the cannons fired again.
Willis quickly observed the situation across the darkened battlefield. The ironborn hand landed well over a dozen ships and were putting men ashore, with more vessels on their way. Soon they would have a sizable army on the soil. The Admiral estimated that the ironmen would field about five thousand warriors. By contrast, Dagher had only two hundred men and ten cannons within Botley's Keep. The castle of Pyke was garrisoned with four hundred men and sixteen cannons, but they were too distant to be of any use. And the batteries once used to besiege Pyke had been dismantled, and their guns relocated. With no fleet to provide fire support, or cavalry to harass the enemy's flanks, this fight would have to be won by the garrison.
Down in the harbor, the two Ferenese brigs had given up trying to put to sea and were instead firing their guns at inbound longships. Ironmen already on shore were approaching the stranded brigs. Soon the brigs would be overwhelmed by bloodthirsty ironborn men-at-arms, and the Admiral couldn't do anything to help them. He sighed regretfully at the thought.
More longships were racing southwards for the coast. Willis drew his spyglass and focused on the lead ship. He recognized her right away as the Iron Victory - Victarion Greyjoy's flagship. The Ferenese Admiral suspected that if the Iron Fleet's commander died, the rest might lose their courage and quit the field.
"All guns fire at will!" Willis roared. "Not a single ship gets ashore."
The guns atop Botley's Keep opened fire, belching smoke and roaring like monsters. The guns down on the perimeter wall joined in the destructive chorus soon after. The wind pushed the gun smoke back onto the gun crews, irritating their eyes, but the sailors kept reloading and shooting. A furnace had been set up in the courtyard, allowing the lower battery to fire heated shot. Two longships were hit on the bow by cannonballs. Both vessels began to founder, their ironborn crews panicking. Many were dragged under by their own armor. Neither of the sinking ships was the Iron Victory, much to Willis' displeasure. One longship, recently beached, was struck amidships, killing several ironmen as they tried to disembark. Another ship, still in the harbor, went up in flames seconds after being struck by a heated round. Elsewhere three ironmen were ripped apart by the same shot as it rocketed over the beach and into the surf.
More longships came ashore - more than the Ferenese guns could fire upon. Hundreds of ironmen stormed ashore, running south in the direction of Botley's Keep. Some rallied around House banners and charged together. Knowing that the enemy would attempt to storm the castle, Willis sent a runner with orders for the lower guns to refocus their fire on the advancing ironmen, and for the marines to join the fighting once the enemy came in range. He gave these same orders to the upper defenses. The crackle of musket fire soon joined the booming of cannons. And still the ironmen came.
They came as one horde. From the keep, the sight of the charging ironmen reminded Willis of a colony of ants, all surging forward at once. Cannonballs and musket fire tore through their ranks as they charged. Men spat insults and roared with fury, brandishing weapons and issuing challenges. One ironborn warrior insulted the Admiral's wife until a Ferenese musket ball silenced him. An ironborn Captain, toting the orange banner of his house, urged his crewmen forward, promising them wealth and women if they survived. A cannonball stole the man's head and killed nine of his bannerman, rendering his promises null. The lower guns switched to grapeshot as the ironmen drew nearer to the wall. The new ammunition - bags filled with musket balls - sprayed out from the guns in wide, deadly arcs. All amongst the ironborn horde, men fell, screaming pathetically with pain. The ironmen trampled over their own dead and kept up their charge. Some marines lit grenades and lobbed them over the wall, where they burst, shredding flesh and denting armor.
The ironmen reached the castle's main gate and immediately tried to force it open. Days ago, Willis had ordered the gate reinforced with three addition crossbars. Three ironmen, hefting large battleaxes, began hacking away at the wooden gate. Musket fire from overhead hindered their progress. A bowman tried protecting the axemen by loosing arrows up at the marines. One of the axemen fell, bleeding from the neck, but another man picked up the weapon and took his comrade's place. Over at the breach, a large group of ironmen were struggling to climb around the weapons-riddled log while being fired upon by marines down in the courtyard. Willis could faintly hear the marine sergeants yelling out orders. The marines rhythmically fired a volley, reloaded, and fired again. Bodies began piling up in the breach as ironmen died. The marines atop the keep fired volleys upon the attackers outside the walls; but given the ironmen's distance, the Admiral guessed that their shots weren't doing much damage. With their barrels aimed as low as their carriages would permit, the upper cannons continued shooting at the advancing ironmen.
The main gate, weakened by the hammering of battleaxes, gave way, allowing the ironmen to storm in. The lower gun crews ceased shooting and picked up cutlasses. The Ferenese marines in the courtyard turned their weapons in time to fire one last volley. Hastily the marines fixed bayonets mere seconds before the ironmen were upon them. A melee erupted in the courtyard as the ironborn drove into the marines. Blades flashed, bayonets thrusted, shields broke and bodies fell as the marines stubbornly held their ground.
"Fall back to the keep!" the Admiral roared.
Thanks to a brave messenger, Willis' command made its way down into the courtyard. The surviving sailors and marines - only twenty or so men - ran through the keep's open main entrance in a hasty retreat. The door was shut and barred behind them.
"Artillery, cease fire!" Willis barked. He turned to a marine sergeant. "Sergeant, take some men down to the main hall. If the enemy breaks through the door, slaughter them!"
"Sir!"
The sergeant and ten marines departed the roof, leaving Willis with nine marines and twenty-eight sailors. The sailors, with faces blackened from powder, were now armed with cutlasses. The marines fixed bayonets and hefted their muskets, ready for another fight. Together, they were the Ferenese garrison's last line of defense. Willis drew his own shortsword of Valyrian steel.
A grappling hook landed beside one of the cannons. Half a dozen more then came soaring over the ramparts.
"Climbers!" a marine shouted.
"Don't let them up!" Willis shot back.
Seven of the ironborn were using climbing ropes to scale the keep's walls. The sailors and marines shot or stabbed them one by one as they tried to climb over the ramparts. More followed behind. To Willis, it seemed that the Ferenese might be able to defend this position, until he heard the clanking of plate armor behind him...
Willis turned just in time to see an armored warrior charging at him, ax and shield at the ready. Where had he come from?! The bastard must've climbed up another side.
The warrior struck Willis with full force, knocking the Admiral down with his shield. Willis rolled to the right, expecting an attack. The warrior's ax struck the stone where Willis' head was a second ago. The Admiral recovered his sword, jumped back to his feet, and faced his opponent, weapon at the ready. The man was an ironborn captain, wearing full plate armor with a gold cloak. The design of his helmet resembled a squid. Willis recognized the badge emblazoned on the warrior's shield. It was the kraken of House Greyjoy. The man challenging Admiral Willis Dagher was none other than the Iron Captain himself.
"Welcome to Pyke, Victarion Greyjoy," Willis said in a teasing manner. "What tidings to you bring?"
Victarion spat on the ground. "Enough talk," he growled from behind his helm's visor. "You die here."
The Iron Captain charged Willis, who dodged the assault and slashed at Victarion's head. The Iron Captain blocked the blow with his shield. Willis drew a pistol and fired at Victarion. The shot struck Victarion's lower back, where it pierced chainmail and lodged in the warrior's flesh. Victarion groaned at the sudden injury. Willis attacked, hoping to catch Victarion unawares, but the Captain turned and knocked Willis aside with his shield. The two men faced each other again.
"You've got skill, old man," said Victarion. "You would've made a formidable warrior."
"I already am, numbskull." Willis said in turn.
Cannon fire echoed in the distance, causing both men to pause and look out to sea. Dozens more vessels had appeared on the northeastern horizon. They were Ferenese warships. The Admiral's request for reinforcements had gone through!
"See that?" Willis asked his opponent, indicating the new fleet. "Those ships are my salvation... and your doom. Yield now, and they won't have reason to kill you."
Victarion ignored Willis and attacked again. Willis dodged to Victarion's right and swung his blade at the Iron Captain's ax. The sword's razor edge cleaved straight through the axe's haft, severing it. Victarion threw the useless weapon aside and looked around for another. He spotted a bayoneted musket on the ground nearby. Victarion dropped his shield and picked up the musket, wielding the firearm like a spear. He thrust the bayonet at Willis. The Admiral knocked the musket aside with his left arm, charged Victarion, and prepared to stab his opponent in the neck. But his blade stabbed nothing but air. Before the Admiral's attack connected, a wave of humans knocked Victarion to the ground. They were Ferenese sailors and marines rushing to the Admiral's aid. In seconds they had Victarion pinned beneath their combined weight. The defeated Iron Captain roared curses at Willis and his men.
"Bind him," Willis ordered. "He's our hostage now."
"Damn you, swine!" Victarion roared furiously. "May the Others take you and all your kin!"
"...and gag him as well. I can't stand his whining." The Admiral sheathed his sword.
While Victarion was bound in rope, Willis returned to the northern ramparts and surveyed the battlefield once more. The ironmen were falling back to their ships, rushing to meet the threat posed by the Ferenese reinforcements. The newly arrived Ferenese ships were moving to block the harbor entrance, trapping the Iron Fleet in Lordsport. Against the guns of the Ferenese warships, the ironmen stood virtually no chance of escape. What had once been an almost certain defeat was now a guaranteed victory.
Willis then spotted another Ferenese vessel sailing in from the north. Unlike the others, this ship was cruising alone. Willis knew the warship's identity right away, and smiled at the sight of her.
It was Admiral Willis Dagher's personal flagship, the man of war Revenge.
"Ancestors be praised," The Admiral whispered.