—The Vale of Arryn—

The Eyrie…

The following morning, Gawain and his men were settling into their temporary barracks in the Eyrie. Everything was vastly different compared to their old quarters – they were so high up in the mountains to the point where all they could see was clouds below one of the Eyrie's four towers.

Before long, a Petyr arrived and pushed the door to the barracks open. "Fall in!" he ordered.

Gawain noticed how his men scurried about trying to assemble in an orderly fashion.

"Captain, you and your men are to accompany me to the main hall. General Samson says he has a mission for you lot."

This was sooner than Gawain had anticipated. Ever since the revolt during the battle of Riverrun he and his fellow captains, though allowed to move freely, had been under close watch. He had managed earlier yesterday to meet up with the seven other captains who had joined him in the mutiny: Lord Edwin Lyberr, Ser Osbert Cordwayner, Ser Esmond Sloane, Lord Kendrick Dunn, Ser Cenric Kellington, Lord Harlan Musgood, and Ser Bryan Tudbury. He had known all of them for years, some back to his childhood or to his time as a cadet at the Academy. They were all good men, who like him had chaffed under the restrictive measures imposed by Gerion Lannister and were disgusted by the blind loyalty so many showed to Argilac.

Yesterday they had gathered in a tavern and toasted their fallen comrades who had died at Riverrun. And it was there that Gawain had dispensed the news.

They were all wanted men now, by order of the military high command in King's Landing, they were considered deserters and each of them had a bounty of 100 silver stags for each head of the 'Caltrop Captains' as they were now called. To lighten the mood, Gawain had quipped "I would have thought we would have been worth more." It had garnered a few laughs. Additional news had indicated that each of them had been attained by the throne, with their titles and lands stripped from them. With arrest warrants issued for their families.

However, they had considered that. In the early stage of their scheming, they had discreetly sent messages to their families. They had managed to smuggle them out through Dorne, which thankfully remained neutral. A ship had then taken them to Essos, and then following their victory at Riverrun had brought them to the Vale. Gawain's mother and sister were currently safe at King's Crag, the home of his maternal grandfather, Lord Loren Egen. Still, Gawain and his men had seen the eyes of a certain Vale officer glaring at him and his comrades. And more than once he had heard some mutter 'turn cloaks' or 'spies.' They were ignored, it was not some random zealous or spiteful individual they needed to prove themselves to.

Gawain, buckling his belt which held his sword and pistol, grabbed his uniform coat, and gave an overconfident grin as he saluted to Petyr, "Lead the way, major."

Petyr dragged Gawain and his men through the halls of the Eyrie. The oldest amongst the Andal nobility, many of Vale nobles often looked down upon them - under orders of their leader, House Arryn, none were to ever speak out of turn amongst the recruits once they passed a thorough background check, though a few couldn't help but sneer at them.

Once in the meeting room, Gawain noticed a somewhat Small Council was formed around a large circular table made of marble with a detailed map of Westeros on the cover.

"You've met our Lord Admiral, Ser Jacaerys Velaryon," Petyr points, "commander of our naval forces and Master of Ships."

Jacaerys noticed. "It was only for a moment, though Samson assures me of the importance for recruits."

"And of course, our... Master of Coin and Lord Treasurer, Baelor Farrin. Bloody colonist—"

"I heard that, major," Baelor refuted. "And it was only because Prince Daemon broke me out of that damned prison do your motherland revolutionaries finally have the money they so desperately needed."

Petyr ignored him. "This is Lady Asha Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands, Mistress of Laws, and Lady Justiciar," he redirected.

"Hmph. Not what I expected from a mainland turncoat," Asha examined the newcomer. "Just know that even the slightest offense in our judicial system amongst any of your companions will be dealt with accordingly."

"Our spymaster and Master of Whisperers... yet another foreigner," Petyr points, "Jaqoros Hestohr. He is from Braavos."

"I'm a very well-informed information broker," Jaqoros reputed. "Information and knowledge are my trade. I have eyes and ears everywhere in the known world. No secrets are hidden from me."

Samson was nearby within sight of Gawain.

Petyr rolled his eyes. He then turned all formal. "And of course," he said politely, "this is my cousin and our liege lady, Sharra of House Arryn; Defender of the Vale and Wardeness of the East."

Sharra bowed politely. "It is nice to finally make your acquaintance, captain," she said. "I bid you and your troops welcome to my castle. As you can see, my position here involves a degree of-"

"She is our ambassador, chief diplomat, and acting Prime Minister," Jaqoros interrupted.

"Yes..." Sharra said with a hint of annoyance at being rudely interrupted, "tactically put, Lord Jaqoros. But only until a permanent one is elected by our new parliamentarians."

Samson turned. "Captain Gawain Thayne here was one of the deciding factors in the Battle of Riverrun," he began. "Once that happened, we received reports of a growing number of volunteers willing to join us."

"Despite the risks they put themselves in," Asha hinted.

"We're all technically a band of traitors now," Jacaerys replied. "Though it's been a long time coming. I only regret my nephew was not disciplined enough back then as a boy; he now threatens to tear our realm asunder."

Samson turned to Gawain. "For a long time, we remained on the defense. Before we proceed further, I called to inform you that after our decisive victory at Riverrun, we are now able to finally lay the groundwork for our counterattack."

Hearing it finally gave the men some good news. It is about time they took the fight to the enemy!

"My men and I are ready to fight. All of us were front-line infantry, we survived as long as we have for two reasons—skill and a lot of luck. Give us a mission and we will get it done," Gawain said with a bit of pride. When he had been in the academy, he had studied for the Engineer Corps. But, when he learned that most of his friends were going into the Infantry Corp, he joined them, with no regrets. They had bled, fought, and chewed dirt together.

"Hold on to that courage, captain," Samson remarked. "Because you're being sent deep into enemy territory."

"But it also limits our options," Jacaerys mentioned. "While our fleets move south, the army will be left largely on their own."

Asha chimed in. "My brother Harwyn decimated the Lannister fleet and currently holds Lannisport, but the Iron Fleet itself will be preparing to engage the Redwyne Fleet soon enough."

"But can they hold out, I wonder?"

"My people are more than ready this time. We learned our lessons this time. Just focus on the east coast; we have the west."

Samson turned to Gawain. "Eyewitnesses have seen your actions on the battlefield near Loreon's main camp. It has been compared to the Battle of the Blackwater three centuries ago."

"Even if we tried to stop such a rumor from spreading—" Sharra tried to speak.

"Which we have not," Jaqoros interrupted.

"The point is, captain, your methods have not gone unnoticed. People are desperate for a sign of hope for change. For some, you are that sign."

"And for others, a sign of everything dangerous."

"Will Argilac's men attack us?" Kay asked.

"With what?" Baelor deflected. "They're still licking the wounds we gave them."

"But they will retaliate," Samson said. "Our scouts report an enemy envoy is preparing to transport a large contingent of supplies from the Reach to the Stormlands. Lord Jason Tarly of Horn Hill is leading them."

"I remember him," Petyr mentioned. "He's one the realm's best generals. His actions in repelling a Tyroshi invasion are still regarded as legendary. He is also the Royal Military Academy's head of the Randyll Tarly Institute for the Study of War."

"Which nearly makes him just as dangerous as Loreon Lannister," Samson stated. "Your assignment is to sabotage the railway system connecting the Reach to the Stormlands and Westerlands at these locations," he points to the map. "Disrupt their operations, grab whatever rations you can for our men, and get out."

"While you do that," Asha spoke up, "the Iron Fleet's 34th Flotilla will provide cover fire from the shoreline and keep them distracted long enough to get the job done."

"If we destroy that one, they would be forced to take longer routes or even travel using rolling stock. A few well-placed barrels of black powder could destroy that depot and keep it out of use for months."

"It won't be easy," Jacaerys warned. "Our enemy will most likely know you're coming. And with our armies pressing south to try to retake Harrenhal, our eastern front will be bogged down trying to secure Darry and Sow's Horn if we are to open a path along the kingsroad. But leave that part to us. House Velaryon still maintains support amongst the noble houses around Blackwater Bay."

"Be sure to keep your ships relatively intact, Admiral," Samson warned. "We'll need them if we're to force a final confrontation with Argilac."

"We'll do what we can, General. The same could be said of your men."

"They'll get the job done... or die trying."

Sharra turned to Gawain. "There is a secondary mission you can do. A wandering septon by the name of Father Lucien has asked to speak to us. He is close to your main objective and knows those involved in the Reach. His assistance could be invaluable."

"Why should we bother with a clergyman when there is a war to fight?" Asha irritatingly inquired.

"Because the Faith of the Seven remains the dominant religion in southern Westeros. From what I could gather, Father Lucien is a reasonable man and is a contender for a Most Devout council seat in this year's election. And the fact the Faith does not take sides or has not denounced us yet should speak volume. He was last seen in a small encampment north of Bitterbridge tending to refugees fleeing the war."

"Look for other opportunities to expand the Winged Stags' influence while you're there," Samson recommended.

"But be warned," Jaqoros said, "once you're in the Reach, you're on your own."

Gawain was silent as he studied the map, it was clear that his mind was working. Destroying the railroad junctions and depots would not be a problem, he already had a plan in mind for that. But ensuring that he and his men returned alive and potentially managed to get a hold of this Septon was another thing. Bitterbridge was near the main train depot that served as a junction between the Westerlands, Reach, Crownlands, and Stormlands. It would be difficult to locate and extract the Septon, but it was still deep in enemy territory, and the longer they remained meant more time for the enemy to gather troops and block their escape. "I only have one question: when do we leave?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Immediately," Samson responded. He tapped his cane on the floor – signaling the guards to bring in twelve royalists in chains. "These men we've captured after the Battle of Ashmark. Strip into their uniforms and use them to blend in to not arouse suspicion. Once you arrive at your destination, wait until nightfall. Disable the watchtowers, subdue nearby patrols, and commence Operation Shadowhand."

"And more importantly," Jacaerys mentioned, "do not engage Lord Jason Tarly. If he sees you, it's the end of the line."

Gawain frowned slightly at that, there was some history between himself and Lord Tarly. Upon graduation from the Royal Military Academy, most of the graduates received the rank of lieutenant before being placed on active duty. Though Gawain had graduated third in his class, he had been made a simple sergeant. They had used Gawain's extensive list of disciplinary infractions and general reputation as a reason he had been denied the customary rank of lieutenant. Lord Tarly had been one of several academy officials who said that Gawain would never rise above the rank of sergeant. Out of spite, he had decided to prove the naysayers wrong. He was lieutenant for two years and achieved the rank of captain in less time. Still, this was a covert military operation, and he was not going to get his men killed for the sake of his pride. "Understood, general, we will be gone as quick as shadows with the coming of dawn."

"In the meantime," Sharra spoke, "I'll meet with our allies in the renewed parliament. We will need more recognition at home and abroad."

"And we'll keep fighting," Samson replied. "It's time we took the fight to them."

It was then that the doors to the council chamber suddenly burst open. A messenger frantically looked around; he was clutching several papers in his hand. When he spotted Samson, he immediately ran over, giving a brief salute. "General, forgive this intrusion but we just got this message from the intelligence network, and…" he offered the documents to Samson who took them with a nod of thanks.

The old war horse began to read the papers, but as he did, the color slowly began to drain from his face and his hands started to shake, this was noticed by the council. The papers dropped to the floor.

"Professor? What is wrong?" Sharra asked as she moved quickly, yet gracefully over to Samson to steady him.

Petyr picked up some of the papers and began to read them, as he did his face changed, but it was a look of disgust and anger rather than shock and sadness. "Numerous members of the officer corps, both active and retired, were taken into custody by Argalic's secret police." He scanned some of the names, he recognized, but others were unknown. Some of the names on the list had been officers who served during the War against the Band of Twelve and others were retired soldiers serving at the academy. He knew that some of the names on this list had been comrades and friends of Samson, but who had not joined the rebellion.

"These officers were charged with treason to the crown due to having affiliation or connections to our cause. They were given a summary trial overseen by the Hand of the King. After which…" Petyr paused "After which they were hanged, drawn, and quartered. Their bodies were displayed before a jeering crowd with a sign 'traitor' placed around their necks." He then read off some of the names, everyone in the room recognizing at least one.

When he heard the names of several naval officers, Jacaerys slammed his fist into the table. "To think… that a man as good and honorable as my brother could have produced a monster like Argilac. And Gerion… what kind of monster does that to his men?"

"I knew those men," Samson said. His tone was frighteningly calm and collected. His posture remained composed, but his grip on his cane was tight. And those who served under him were aware that this was not a good sign. It was only reserved when something—or someone—pissed him off. "I knew those men. Their grandfathers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons, and daughters... from Bronze Gate to Blackhaven, Ashford, Wyl, Brightwater Keep, Barrowton, Crakehall, and Greenstone, I knew them all. Every one of them was a hero. They served on the field with distinction. I trained half of them myself." He tapped his cane, the tip of his cane cracking under the strain. Then, Samson limped over to the map. "Have our men stationed here," he points at Sow's Horn, "here," he moves a piece towards Acorn Hall, "and here," he moves another to the Golden Tooth. "Lady Greyjoy, Admiral Jacaerys, you know what to do."

Petyr turned to Gawain. "What are you lot still standing around here?" he questioned. "You have your mission, now get on with it." He turned to General Rupert Royce. "General, my men in the Brotherhood of Winged Knights are ready to move."

"Have your people men ready then, major," Rupert recommended. "While the main force of our brotherhood will remain in the Vale to guard Lady Arryn, you'll lead the 27th Cavalry Unit towards the ruins of Harrenhal."

Kay turned to Gawain. "Captain...? We are... we are ready to move."

The private sounded anxious. They were practically given a suicide mission in the Reach.

Gawain smiled and placed his hand on Kay's shoulder "You're a good lad, but you are not coming" he looked at his assembled officers of sergeants and lieutenants. "None of you are coming. This is a covert mission, and I only have a dozen enemy uniforms to work with. You lot will have to wait here until I get back." He was already making a mental list of men who would be coming with him.

—The Reach—

Somewhere near Golden Grove and Cyder Hall…

The long trek from the Eyrie to the border connecting the Riverlands to the Reach was a long, dangerous one. With the civil war intensifying, places to hide were becoming increasingly scarce. With royalist forces setting each town to the torch, people were either fighting or fleeing. Refugees began flocking to areas that had not been affected by the war just to stay safe – others, however, were not able to make it.

The sun was beginning to set... as was exhaustion. The travel to their destination on foot took approximately 1.41 months.

"Captain," Sergeant Edgar said. "According to this map," he held up a map of Westeros, "we should be nearing Golden Grove and Cyder Hall. Which means-"

"Captain! Look! Off in the distance!" a private pointed.

Gawain looked and saw a small encampment nearby. And further from that, they could see a large convoy train with a seemed to be over 80,000 troops loading and unloading food to feed their forces. Twelve up against 80,000...? That is WAY too many! And the torches were lit, guard towers were scanning the area, patrols were on high alert... It seemed like they were expecting trouble.

"Quick! Get down!" Edgar hurried.

All quickly ducked behind a sizeable hill as a routine patrol strolled past them. They each had to be careful not to make a sound.

"Nothing here," an officer huffed. "Keep to your routes, men! Word has it some rebel scums are en route to our location."

"Should we inform Lord Tarly, ser?" a guard inquired.

"If I want your opinion, corporal, I will ask it! Until then, keep your eyes peeled and your eyes open."

"Aye, ser!"

Once they passed them over, Gawain and his men snuck out of their hiding place.

"Seven hells," Edgar panted, "that was too close!"

"Hey," a private pointed, "isn't that the septon Lady Arryn spoke about? Father Lucien, or something?"

Off in the distance, a small camp was hidden away from the sight of royalist forces – many refugees had fled to that location, with many displaced, wounded or starving. Some had volunteered to tend to the refugees, where an old man dressed wears a simple white wool tunic that goes to his ankles and a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star around his neck.

"Easy now, child," Father Lucien hushed. "Let me ease your pain."

"It hurts!" whined a small child, who could not be more than 8 years old. "It hurts, Father! It hurts...~"

"Shh, shh. I know, child," he applied medicinal ointment and wrapped the mauled limb in gauze. "Rest now and try not to scratch it. If the pain returns, I will come back to see you well again. Seven blessings, child."

The child whined in agony and rolled onto their side.

It did not take long for Father Lucien to notice new arrivals. "You come bearing weapons in a place of healing and salvation," he spoke. "But you lack the aggression of those who've strayed from the Faith's teachings. I assume that means Lady Arryn has received my letter and sent you to me?"

Gawain gestured for sergeant Edgar to keep his eyes peeled for any unwelcome guests before sizing up the septon, who was certainly not what he had been expecting. He was not a particularly religious man; if all-powerful gods existed, why was there so much suffering and pain in the world? And he had known many septons and septas who were hypocrites that abused their positions. And yet, as he looked at this old man, he did not see that. Gawain nodded his head to the septon's question and spoke in a low tone so that no one could overhear "She did, we were sent to get you while we accomplished another mission. But…" he looked around at the various refugees, "Something tells me you won't leave these people behind to suffer."

Father Lucien nodded grimly. "Many have lost their homes, their loved ones... their whole livelihood," he replied. "I have written my pleas to the Most Devout, but none of my holy brothers and sisters have yet to answer. Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…"

"Father Lucien," a peasant coughed. "We're running low on medicine."

"And we are down to our last bit of food. Can you help us?"

"It is as I dreaded," Father Lucien said. He turned to Gawain. "I understand your soldiers need supplies to feed your armies, but these poor souls are the ones who suffer the most. Without medicine, the sickness will claim them. And without food, many will starve. Please? I have appealed to Lord Tarly, but he turned me away."

Gawain felt the pressure of taking on such a mission weighing him down. A suicide mission, for starters; infiltrate the Reach, sabotage the Royal Army's logistical railway system with guerilla-style hit-and-run tactics, and quickly evacuate the area… but on the other hand, his moral consciousness shifted when he saw these refugees—sick, injured, and without a home any longer.

What were his options?

Chapter End

Author's Note: This concludes part one of the mission deep into enemy territory. What awaits our rebel protagonists as more pathways are laid before them? Find out in part two.