Aboard the Fury…
Daveth Baratheon and Robb Stark along with their companions surrounded Victarion Greyjoy. As the ships collided and burned around them, Daveth examined any potential weak spot that could be exploited as Horn Hill archers shot down ironborn raiders attempting to board the Fury; they never got far, though. Both Randyll and Dickon commanded their men to put up a strong defense with shield towers and spears sticking out the gaps to keep the ironborn at bay. Nearby, more royal expeditionary vessels rammed and sunk Iron Fleet vessels after hitting their sides on both ends.
"So, you've finally shown up, boy. Well, come! My axe is thirsty, and it yearns for your blood!" Victarion proclaimed.
Daveth scoffed, already assuming the Knight's Dance fighting style. "You'll find that you won't be so fortunate this time, Victarion."
Not bellowing further bravado, Victarion charged. Daveth and Robb moved to engage the Lord Captain in battle, reinforced by their generals. Together they quickly overwhelmed Victarion before being forced backwards as he spun his axe around to keep himself from getting surrounded. Victarion gripped his axe tightly, giving a small wince which the Young Stag himself noticed.
"Getting tired already? This fight hasn't even lasted at least five minutes yet," he taunted.
"Be silent, boy!"
'And the worm takes the bait,' the Young Stag smirked. "Come give it a try, then."
Victarion lunged, but was forced back by Daveth and Robb's blades. Tried as he might to force his axe downwards, Victarion had to quickly withdraw when Stannis Baratheon and Greatjon Umber moved to outflank him as Rickard Karstark moved to attack from behind. Victarion kicked Rickard in the chest and barely had enough time to halt Stannis' advance before being shoulder tackled by Lord Umber. Victarion stumbled but recovered enough to throw aside Grey Wind as the direwolf lunged and snapped its teeth at him. Lord Karstark seized his moment to take advantage of such distraction to strike Victarion, but only managed to smack his kraken helm. The Lord Captain spun and backhanded the elderly Karstark as Stannis himself moved to stab Victarion's unguarded right flank.
*THRUST!*
*STAB!*
"Gah!" Victarion exclaimed, swinging his battleaxe – narrowly missing Stannis as more and more ships began rammed his fleet from the sides.
Daveth and Robb stood with their generals, ready to close in for the kill. But at that moment, both were temporarily blindsided as Yara Greyjoy intervened and jumped aboard the Fury from her ship Black Wind, kicking at their backs and making them stumbling forward. Victarion used this to his advantage and charged, knocking Greatjon, Rickard and Stannis aside before colliding with both Daveth and Robb – knocking them both backwards and flat onto the deck.
*BAM!*
*THUD!*
"Oof!" both young men grunted.
Victarion panted. "Tired, eh? You boys never learn," he said before noticing his niece. "Go get the prize. And take down as many greenlanders as a token to the Drowned God."
Yara sneered at that last bit, but did as she was told. She had a mission of her own as she threw up grappling hooks to King Robert's Hammer. 'Hold on, Theon. I'm taking you home,' she thought.
Daveth regained his footing and saw Yara climbing aboard his flagship. "Lord Tarly!" he pointed at Yara. "Don't let her get close to the prisoner! Stop her!"
Randyll noticed. "On me, men! Move to intercept!" he began barking orders.
In the cabin of King Robert's Hammer, Theon Greyjoy remained gagged and chained up – unsure of what fate laid in store for him, but he could hear the battle raging on outside. He scooted over to try to get a good look, but the windows were barred and the door closed. But the noise grew louder and closer to the cabin itself, causing Theon to shift and shudder. Once the doors were forcibly kicked open, Theon saw Yara entering the cabin with several of her crew.
"Yara?" he sounded surprised, muffled by the gag.
Yara leaned down to remove the gag from Theon's mouth before struggling to undo the bindings surrounding her brother's hands and legs.
"Hush, now," she calmly replied. "I'm getting you out of here. We're going home."
'Home? Father never wanted me back home, and he didn't listen to me!' Theon thought. As thankful as he felt, he couldn't help but feel very concerned for his sister at the moment. "It's not safe here, Yara," he warned her. "Forget about me! Save yourself! Get out of here! Please!"
"I said hush!" Yara scolded, tugging at the bindings. "You were a terrible baby, did you know that? Bawling all the time, never sleeping. And one night you just wouldn't shut up, screaming like a dying pig. I walked over to your crib, I looked down at you. I wanted to strangle you," her face turned from serious to soothing. "And you looked up at me and you stopped screaming. You smiled at me. You're the only brother I've got left, Theon. I'm not leaving you to die here."
Theon felt a pang of guilt, feeling a sense of betrayal on his part for siding with the enemy but also hearing Yara's confession and reasons as to why she's going to dangerous lengths to win back his freedom. But Theon still felt as if Yara had the best chance of survival by leaving him behind. As Yara got one rope undone, one of her 50 ironborn raiders slumped to the ground.
*THUD!*
Yara shot back to her feet and turned around. Randyll and Dickon Tarly stood at the entrance, their archers' bows aimed directly at them.
"The barbarian's taken the bait again," Randyll noted.
"Run, Yara!" Theon repeated his shouts.
Yara shook her head. "I'm not leaving without my brother."
"Then he can mourn for you."
One of the Horn Hill archers let loose an arrow. Stretching the bowstring and nocking point, arrows were being let loose one after another.
*STRETCHING, TWANG!*
*WHIP!*
*THUD!*
The first arrow pierced through Yara's second-in-command's eyes, while more began targeting her men in such a narrow room. Yara and her men dove for cover, assessing the situation while waiting to the opportune moment to launch their counterattack. She could barely catch a glimpse of the Tarly men hailing a barrage of arrows in the cabin. Eventually, the ironborn got over their initial surprise and moved to strike back at their aggressors before they had a chance to get off another shot.
*SLASH!*
*CLASH!*
*THRUST!*
Spinning left and right, Yara killed a few Tarly men. "You killed dozens upon thousands of our countrymen," she hollered, "and you keep my brother captive. Our prince! Everything they've done to him, they've also done to us. As long as you hold our prince captive with impunity, the word 'ironborn' means nothing! You mainlanders will pay for this outrage!"
"Wrong way 'round, bitch!" Dickon retorted. "You ironborn vermin invaded our lands, attacked our homes! You all tore families apart! This is only retaliation for the crimes you committed!"
Theon closed his eyes and looked away, unable to look as Yara and Dickon fought each other in the cabin. Despite the waves crashing against King Robert's Hammer, the crew themselves retained their balance and shifted their positions the direction the waves rocked the vessel to prevent the ironborn from overwhelming them. The ironborn let out their battlecries before their shouts changed to surprise as the military-trained, disciplined Tarly soldiers knocked them out of the chambers and out onto the open deck to allow more room for mobility. Some swapped to a more defensive line, lining up their shields to create an impenetrable wall despite the ironborn's persistence in moving forward.
"Spears armed!" Randyll yelled as Yara's men entered into range.
The Tarly pikemen drop their shields into a fighting position and placed them between their shields before the ironborn could possibly breach their defensive lines. Below them, hundreds of thousands of royal, northern and ironborn forces continued clashing their blades against each other as more longships and war galleys burned in the naval warfare. Yara isn't giving up and rallies the men around her.
"With me, lads! Break their lines!" she hollered.
The ironborn moved close, slashing their blades and bashing their clubs against the shields before the Tarly spears lunged forth, piercing through them like butter. One of Yara's lieutenants was thrown back before being impaled.
Yara screamed and grabbed the wooden shaft of one of the spears, breaking it with her sword and leapt forward before jamming it into one of the Tarly's eyes. Fueled by adrenaline, she yanked off one of the shields and moved around before any of them had a chance to react. Princess Yara slowly picked off the Tarly shieldmen one-by-one, allowing more of her men to plow through the defensive lines. Dickon and Yara faced off again, but they were interrupted when another horn sounded out.
*AHOOOOOOOOO!*
Dickon and Yara looked out the window and watched as ships led the Arbor Queen, sailed by Lord Paxter Redwyne, reinforced the royal forces – unloading a barrage of spitfires and launching fireballs from the deck's trebuchets on the Iron Fleet. Below, Yara could see Daveth Baratheon, Robb Stark and their generals surrounding Victarion Greyjoy as more ironborn warships were crippled and sunk. By then Yara had determined that once the royal forces adapted to their surroundings and the environment around them, the tide would eventually turn.
Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill took advantage of the confusion and carved through the ironborn with his family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword Heartsbane. One of the finest military commanders the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen, and he's in his element. Yara sees this oncoming threat cutting down her crew, and she goes to stop him. Yara spins round and locks eyes with Randyll. Both pause momentarily, staring each other down.
*CLASH!*
*SLASH!*
*CLANG!*
The ironborn princess comes through the crush and welcomes the contest with such ferocity, taking advantage of her youth and stamina. Yara manages to punch Randyll, but seems to piss him off. He grabs her by the hair and yanks her head back, and repeatedly punches her so hard Yara's nose burst open with blood; and then again and again.
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
Randyll utilized his combat experience and knocked Yara to the ground, her face hitting the wooden deck. She regained her balance, her face paled as she watched her men being thrown off the ledge of King Robert's Hammer into the ocean below. A shadow crossed Theon's face and he was filled with regret and conflict. Yara knew her father's second campaign, that hard started off so well before, had once again become a complete and utter failure.
"All this for what… What for, father?" Yara slowly cursed.
"I tried to warn our father what would happen, sister," Theon looked away before indicating Yara to leave. "Just… go. Save yourself."
Yara stared at him for a moment before grabbing a grappling hook to swing from King Robert's Hammer to Black Wind with what remained of her crew. It wasn't worth it. Taking one final glance at the royal flagship, Yara turned to her crew.
"Fall back," she reluctantly ordered. "Fall back to Pyke. Our cause is lost."
Her captain and crew reluctantly raised the Black Wind's sails to leave the naval battlefield with several dozens of remaining ironborn ships that were lucky enough to escape the carnage. A proud ironborn Yara may be, but she was a smart one: she knows the Iron Fleet is falling apart.
Randyll watched as the Black Wind sailed away into the distant fog, fleeing to the Iron Islands with the few ships left. He turned to look at Theon, full of scorn.
"You let her go," he gruffly said.
Theon shook his head. "She's my sister. It's hard to fight your family," he explained offering no resistance. "What does it matter now? It's over."
Randyll glares at Theon, observing the captive carefully. Back down below, Daveth Baratheon and Robb Stark along with their generals were giving Victarion Greyjoy a really hard time. Outnumbered and realizing that some of his once vast ships were being reduced as more of the royal forces rammed and battered his own. Victarion looked over his shoulder, noticing the Black Wind sailing away. The Iron Victory might be able to give chase, but the corvus still kept the Iron Fleet flagship locked onto the Fury. Men were screaming and the ships were engulfed in flames.
"They're retreating! Look!" exclaimed a Dragonstone soldier.
Daveth looked and observed the remaining Iron Fleet ships sailing away, abandoning the rest of their brethren to their fate. Quickly seizing this opportunity, Daveth brought down Stormbringer against Victarion's battleaxe, slamming it repeatedly before Greatjon Umber moved around and smacked it out of his hands. Now utterly disarmed, Victarion concluded that his remaining option now was to retreat. Kicking the corvus loose, the Lord Captain attempted to climb the grappling hook's rope onto the Iron Victory but felt something heavy weighing him down. Looking at his legs, Victarion saw Daveth had leapt from the Fury and clung onto Victarion's waistline.
The Young Stag maintained a firm grip as Victarion kicked him, enduring the pain being inflicted on his right shoulder and torso. He wasn't going to let him get away again. No, this was his only chance for checkmate.
"Cut the rope!" he hollered. "Cut it now!"
A few were reluctant to do so since their King was still hanging onto Victarion, but the only one to carry out the order was Ser Brynden Tully, Robb's great-uncle. Swinging his blade, the Blackfish cut the rope holding the two of them and they both plunged into the water and hit the surface hard.
*SPLASH!*
Both Daveth and Victarion were being pulled down by their armor, the weight of such were intent on dragging them both to a watery grave if neither made it to the surface. Daveth held his breath and swam upwards, but Victarion held him down – intending on taking the Young Stag down with him; one more offering to the Drowned God. Daveth kicked Victarion in the face, despite the current impeding his movements. As flames lit the surface above and hundreds of corpses sank into the depths below, Daveth felt his chest tightening.
'If he keeps me down here, we'll both drown!' he realized. Giving a hard kick to Victarion's face, Daveth momentarily felt himself getting out of his grasp.
This move allowed the Young Stag to quickly remove the full set of heavy armor weighing him down, discarding them into the deep, dark water. He couldn't allow anything hindering his movements and, given the current dire circumstances he found himself in, his own armor itself was more of a liability than an asset. Once he felt himself being reasonably lighter, Daveth immediately swam for the surface – his chest tightening even harder and felt as if his throat was being crushed before his vision started to slowly fade.
"Where is he?" Robb searched the Sunset Sea.
Roose Bolton pointed northeast. "There he is! Over there!"
All eyes turned to the direction in time to notice Daveth popping his head out of the water, gasping for air and about thirty feet away from them. Once they breathed a sigh of relief, Stannis silenced them abruptly.
"Bring him aboard," he commanded.
Olyvar Frey, who scrambled about the deck, managed to find a lifeline long enough for Daveth to swim to and reach it. Grabbing the long strand of rope, Olyvar whipped back and threw as hard as he could.
*SPLASH!*
Daveth wiped his eyes and, still gasping for air, noticed the rope just floating in the water ten feet away from him.
"Grab hold, Your Grace!" Olyvar hollered. "Grab the rope! We'll pull you in!"
Moving his arms in a circular motion and kicking his legs, Daveth swam towards the lifeline albeit he was still exhausted from being held under for so long. But as he stretched his right hand outwards, Victarion Greyjoy sprung up from the Sunset Sea and aggressively dragged Daveth under again.
"Your Grace!" Olyvar shouted.
Back underwater, Daveth struggled in the grasp of Victarion as small bubbles of air pockets escaped his lips. Victarion held his breath and intended to finish the fight on his terms: by drowning. It was something most ironborn did to their prisoners and enemies alike, and this was to be no exception. The Lord Captain waved around as Daveth thrashed about with all his might, which occasionally brought them to the surface.
As they both popped up, Victarion wrapped his right arm around Daveth's throat and kept his left arm compressed around his chest. "I told you this place would be your grave, boy!" he growled. "Now drown beneath the waves!"
Onboard the Fury, Robb watched on in horror as his best friend/brother-in-law was fighting for his life in the open water. He wanted to jump in to help, but Roose Bolton and Stannis Baratheon held him back – implying he would only be a burden and falling fiery debris from the Iron Fleet vessels they had sunk would crush him even if he made an attempt.
"Archers! Shoot that Greyjoy!" shouted Rickard.
Before they could, Greatjon Umber waved them down. "Don't do it, ya bloody fools! Ya might hit the King!" he argued. "We need to get around them first!"
"But how?" Robb asked almost desperate. "We won't make it in time!"
"Not yet," Stannis observed.
Robb looked as to what Stannis was talking about and noticed the Seaswift quickly coming into view. A small ship with big sails, the Seaswift's captain claims that she is the fastest ship in the Royal Fleet. Living up to its reputation, the Seaswift sailed around Daveth and Victarion. With Lannister archers at the ready, Ser Kevan Lannister raised his hand up.
"Archers, nock arrows!" he ordered.
"Nock! Draw!"
Victarion heard the orders being shouted behind him, and each time he tried to spin around to hold Daveth in front of him the Young Stag resisted and spun right back around to give his archers a clear shot. The King felt his strength slowly leaving him as Victarion's grip around his throat tightened.
"Do it, Ser Kevan! Shoot the son of a bitch!" his voice strained. "SHOOT HIM!"
Ser Kevan nodded. "Loose!"
In perfect unison, the Lannister archers fired their arrows and nearly each one found its mark.
*STRETCHING, TWANG!*
*WHIP!*
*THUD!*
Victarion roared with pain as Daveth pushed back against the Lord Captain, smacking the back of his head against his nose, followed by repeated elbows and kicks before finally pulling himself free. Daveth slowly slunk beneath the waves before popping up again, coughing and gasping for air.
"Bring His Grace aboard! Take the Greyjoy prisoner!" Kevan ordered.
One by one, strong chains and grappling hooks were thrown around Victarion. Try as he might to resist, it was obvious there were far too many for him to break hold. A small rope was tossed down by Ser Kevan, allowing Daveth to grab onto as Lannister men-at-arms pulled the Young Stag aboard the Seaswift. Rolling onto his side, Daveth spat out seawater and tried to catch his breath.
"*cough!* *cough!* *cough!*"
"Easy now, Your Grace," his great-uncle reassured him.
Daveth slowly opened his eyes. "Is it… *cough!* *cough!* Did we win?" he asked.
Ser Kevan nodded. "We did, Your Grace. The ironborn are in full retreat."
The Young Stag wearily nodded his head. "Good," he said simply as he saw his troops dragging Victarion onboard as well who offered heavy resistance. "Bring us back to the Fury, great-uncle. The crimes that man's committed against the realm are too grave to ignore."
Ser Kevan hesitates for a moment, but tells the Seaswift's captain to sail around to the Fury. Once they were brought onboard, Daveth was reunited with his men. The assembled lords and generals stood at the King's side as Victarion Greyjoy was thrown in chains before them. Arrows were still lodged into his back and his kraken helm was knocked off, but Victarion still resisted against his captors who held him down.
Daveth is exhausted, only motivation keeps him standing. Stannis takes a moment to address his fellow lords.
"The influence surrounding the atrocities at Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte continue to be felt," Stannis spoke. "Our enemies have made the kingdom bleed, slowly yet painfully. Like all of you, I have neither forgotten nor forgiven that. The crimes committed by Victarion Greyjoy of Pyke, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, include piracy, pillaging, murder and treason."
Daveth glanced at his uncle. "Such charges are not to be taken lightly, Lord Stannis. We must address them here and now."
"You think you've won, boy? I do not acknowledge the greenlanders' proceedings, nor do I acknowledge your authority to judge me," Victarion spat, still chained up tightly.
"Still so stubborn and defiant, but I suppose that's how you Greyjoys have always been."
"All I ever did, I did so my people would survive! We are ironborn, boy. We're not subjects, we're not slaves. We do not plow the field or toil in the mine. We take what is ours! And if that meant lives had to be taken, then so be it! I've paid the iron price, and have no regrets doing so."
"And yet you've condemned your ironborn brothers and sisters to death. You knew what the repercussions were, but you did it anyway."
Lord Rickard Karstark stepped forward, snarling at Victarion. "My first son, Harrion, died when your axe chopped his head in two. I lost another son, Torrhen, when you strangled him to death and threw him overboard," he turned to Daveth. "Maybe you don't understand what it means for a father to lose both of his sons, lad, but know this: I would carve out my heart and offer it to the Father if he would let my sons wake from their graves."
Daveth looked at Rickard. "I remember your sons, my lord. Both Harrion and Torrhen were the best House Karstark had to offer. The North will not see another like them again."
"I don't want any southern grief, pity or praise. I want my vengeance, the vengeance you promised me!"
Robb stepped in. "Enough! Stand down, Lord Karstark!"
Begrudgingly, Rickard glared at his close of kin before stepping aside. Victarion sneered.
"Sounds like you can't keep your own men in line, boy," he mocked. "What does that say about your character? Your leadership?"
Daveth shook his head. "You seek on goading me by spitting provocations and insults? More's the pity for you that such juvenile attempts like that won't work on me."
"This man raided our shorelines, had his own niece attack Deepwood Motte and seize Moat Cailin when our backs were turned!" bellowed Greatjon Umber. "Only a coward would resort to such tactics."
Galbart Glover stepped forth as well. "My own brother Robett was taken captive by the ironborn. Where is he now, I don't know. But the crimes this man's brethren committed against House Glover cannot go ignored!"
The Young Stag raised his hand up, demanding silence. "You've heard the Northmen's complaints against you, Victarion Greyjoy. Do you deny the charges?"
"I deny nothing!" Victarion stood defiant. "And don't demand I bend the knee, either! Because the Iron Islands will never submit to another again."
'So this is how it's going to be,' Daveth thought. "You are a mere fool if you think I aim to put you in your place again. Thousands of people have died because of you and your brother Balon's second rebellion. Letting you walk free would be an insult to their memory. War forces terrible choices on us, I agree, but justice demands its due and cannot be ignored forever."
The Northmen and royal forces watched on as King Daveth stood tall and firm and spoke with authority in his voice.
"Lord Captain Victarion Greyjoy, I, Daveth of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die."
Several of the Northmen nodded their heads in agreement. As King Daveth Baratheon unsheathed his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer, he stopped midway and stared at the ground for a moment – contemplating on familiar words of the past.
"If you do this now, you will never be free of them."
"Prove you are above what you say you are. Only then can you truly let go."
The Northmen looked on in confusion. What was going through his mind? Why the hesitation? But all that ceased when Daveth handed one of them Stormbringer.
"Lord Rickard of House Karstark," he announced, "you need this more than I do. You want justice against the man responsible for the deaths of your sons Harrion and Torrhen? Take it. Avenge them, and any debt between us is paid."
Rickard nodded and forcibly pushed his way to the front. "With pleasure," he growled.
Snatching the handle of Stormbringer, Rickard Karstark stood above Victarion Greyjoy with sword in hand and raised it high in the air. Victarion smiled wickedly. "Should've known you'd have someone do your beheadings for you, boy. You don't have what it takes to get the job done yourself."
'You are wrong. Go to the deepest, darkest corners of the Seven hells,' thought the Young Stag.
*SWING!*
*CHOP!*
In one fell swoop, Lord Rickard brought Stormbringer down on the nape of Victarion's neck; the Valyrian steel sword cut through flesh with relative ease. As the head rolled across the Fury's deck, Rickard watched as the headless body of Victarion Greyjoy continued to spurt blood and twitch for the next 30 seconds before any movement finally ceased. Rickard stared morosely at Victarion's severed head, lost in his memories of his sons Harrion and Torrhen. His hands gripped tight, balled into fists. Slowly, with visible effort, he relaxes his hands and returns Stormbringer to Daveth.
The Young Stag catches Rickard's eye and gesture towards the Wolfsbane. "And so it is done…" he mused quietly.
Olyvar approached. "So what do we do now?" he asked.
"Have the men get some rest and repair any holes our ships might have," Daveth stared across the distance, gazing across the Sunset Sea. "Come sunrise, they'll be given their instructions from me. The Iron Islands is ours for the taking."
######
Author's Note: Well, this concludes part 2 of the naval battle at the Sunset Sea. Yara escapes, but Victarion is beheaded. "A man who passes the sentence should swing the sword" normally doesn't sit well with Daveth, considering his past histories with the Greyjoys. If he carried out the execution himself, he'd never be psychologically free of them. And he did make a promise to one of the northern lords. What do you guys think of it? Was that fair or cowardice? You be the judge. Thoughts? Let me know.
C.E.W: I'm sure Daveth knew that of Quellon Greyjoy's sons, Euron was the brains but not sure Daveth thought that Balon was that stupid to invade the mainland. I have a question, did Balon Greyjoy have a hand in Daveth's torture when he was held prisoner in the Iron Islands during the First Greyjoy Rebellion? Because if so, then I recommend that when the time goes comes for Daveth to kill Balon, and it will. I recommend that Daveth doesn't use a weapon, he will use his hands because he wants Balon to feel the pain he suffered at Euron's hands, because if not for Balon, Euron would not have captured him.
―Mostly it was Euron Greyjoy who inflicted serious torture on Daveth for almost an entire year during the First Greyjoy Rebellion, though I'm sure Balon did have a role in authorizing it as well. All the pain he's had to endure and living with the memory of it for so long, Daveth will be expected to return the pain ten fold for every torment his captors did to him.
BioHazard82: Another great chapter.
―Thanks.
Alistair Lannister: So, Victarion's dead and Yara has escaped. Honestly thought she would die or something. Maybe she could go and start a sellsword company in Essos considering her family's pretty much gone now. The Ironborn are now finished at this point. Balon, you stupid fool. You're brother Euron was right, you were leading your people nowhere. I'm curious though, where are the Knights of the Vale? Daveth could really use those reinforcements. So long as Littlefinger doesn't try to kill him while he's fighting like he ordered for Ned Stark. Still can't wait for the next chapter. Great Job!
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter like always and its fair he did kill two of Rickards sons and a Lannister even a part Lannister pays his debts.
―Thanks. A Lannister always pays his debts, and the Oathkeeper always keeps his word.
Patty 4577: Don't give Balon the glory of a last stand. Just bombard Pyke until it is in ruin.
―Daveth's got no intention of giving Balon a fighting chance, but there's also the fate of Robett Glover to consider. Remember he's still being held prisoner at Ten Towers.
ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful! :)
Update immediately, please!
―Thanks.