Wild Wolf

by Vimesenthusiast

Fed up with life in Nerima, Ranma runs away, only to be followed by Happosai, who has a magic scroll he want to try out. It works but Ranma suddenly finds himself in Westeros replacing the champion chosen by the old gods in a time of great peril for humanity. How will the world change with the Wild Wolf raised in the den of wolves? A lot. Thanks to Naj. P. Jackson for the picture.

14. Chapter 14

I don't own Ranma (would love to 'own' Kasumi though, heh) nor do I own the universe created by George 'Slowmo' Martin.

I know I said the next chapter of ATP would be updated this month, but my WW muse would not let me go, and I ran into some problems with the chapter, specifically, having too many people whose opinions on the last chapter's events I wanted to show, and very little knowledge on Kree warships. If someone who knows anything about the Kree could PM me I would be grateful. I would also like to ask anyone who knows anything about astrology to PM me as well.

Like to thank Antony444 for his work as a sounding board and a beta, though again we're still dealing with an odd 'space is missing' issue. Hope I caught them all, but with so many damn names the system doesn't recognize, it's tough to spot mistakes like that. Also think some commas disappeared somehow...

Now on with the violence!

Chapter 14 Old Problems, New Players a Lion Brought to Bay

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"That was as unpleasant a journey as I had expected father." said Obara Sand. She was standing at the edge of the Bonewayay as the rock and dust of the road, if it could even be called that, wound its way out of the last bit of the mountains towards the ruins of Summerhall, once one of the castles of House Targaryen. In front of her the army continued to move its slow winding way out of the pass.

"It is not called the Boneway for no reason, my dear." Oberyn laughed as he stood his horse to one side, watching with his daughter as his army passed by. One or two of the mercenaries than made up that army looked up at him, and he smiled cheerfully at them, not incidentally hefting his spear in one hand. Those men that looked at him looked away quickly, blanching.

Once again Oberyn wondered if his niece and Viserys understood the nature of the army they had assembled. The dregs of an entire continent, all brought together and given weapons and in some cases even taught how to use them. The boy-king at least should know the real nature of most of the mercenary companies. Arianne I'll give the benefit of the doubt.

Of course, he thought, smirking as more men looked away from him, these people might worship the money they're being paid, but will only follow someone who can speak their own language. And I can speak that language, oh yes. Oberyn had been a mercenary in Essos himself when he was younger, and the lessons he'd learned during those years had stayed with him. By now every man in that column understood that he was not someone they wished to cross, not even the worst of them like the lieutenants of the Company of the Cat. Not after Bloodbeard, their former chief, had tried to remove Oberyn only to die himself.

Thankfully loyalty in the Company of the Cat went to whoever was the nastiest and the toughest. Oberyn had proven he was the toughest by cutting Bloodbeard down within two days of meeting him, and forcing the rest of the company to watch as he died on the sands of the Boneway well before they reached even Castle Wyl.

"Father," said Obara, bringing Oberyn's attention back to her. "Are we…" she paused, "Are we really going to…" she paused again, and Oberyn sighed.

He had hoped that all of his daughters would opt to go with the Princess, but Obara had decided to come with him. Hardened fighter she might be but she had never been on the march, and never took part in a war. "Yes," he said coldly, "we are. These are the Stormlands girl, the lands where The Usurper mustered much of his army, where the two Baratheon brothers have gotten their armies as well." He paused before going on. "Or at least a portion of them. Regardless, they will stand against our new liege Lord, and they stand between us and vengeance!"

At the word vengeance he saw his daughter stiffen her spine slightly and he nodded before leaning forward. "We might have sent out here as some kind of feint, but Viserys is a man with big ideas who has no idea about war. I'll admit that his first few targets will work, but they won't give him anything, oh possibly a stepping stone to more, but not important enough. We need to do some real damage, and that means moving quick and striking hard. We can't be bogged down, we can't let up, and we need to cut a swath that will be remembered for decades! If you don't have the stomach for it, tell me now. You can still be sent back to House Wyl."

"I'll do what needs to be done." Obara muttered.

Oberyn nodded. "Good." With that he turned away began to bark out orders for the army to keep going, it might be later in the day but he wanted to be well away from the pass leading into the Boneway before they made camp. Despite Summerhall having been a ruin for years, there were other threats nearby.

For one, Doran's spies had passed on the fact that House Dondarrion had decided not to take part in the current conflict, since its lord was missing in action. However, their traditional duty to protect pass might force whoever had been left in charge to make the attempt. Worse, they were still close enough to the small pass that led up to Blackhaven from the Boneway to make a sortie from that House deadly to their attempt to get out of the Boneway.

They would camp that night well away from the passage out of the Red Mountains and then they would move on. Oberyn had decided that his initial target would be the lands of House Wagstaff, which was the nearest house that wasn't part of the Dornish marches, then the lands around Grandview, of House Grandison. Wagstaff had a small holdfast, not a true castle, and had sent some of its strength to war in any event. They would fall easily, and their lands would give his army enough food and plunder to boost its morale after the hard march through the Boneway.

Oberyn wasn't going to siege Grandview though, that was too tough a nut to crack without taking severe losses. But the lands around it would be open, since they had sent a third of their armsmen to join Renly's horde, and the smallfolk they captured there would be able to tell them a lot about the events in the Stormlands and Reach. With that information he could decide to turns towards the Reach or stay in the Stormlands. The second option would be his preference, but Oberyn was flexible enough to wait and see.

Keep moving, keep burning the land, keep my army happy, and make everyone else very unhappy. And also stay close enough to the ocean to get back to it quickly if need out and away from the Dornish Marches and stay away from the Reach side entirely. We know that they kept most of their men at home, a force I don't want to tangle with. Summer knights most of them they may be, but they'll be well led, and I can't say the same for my lot, besides myself , unless our prisoners tell us something has occurred elsewhere that makes the heart of the Reach vulnerable it will be best to keep to the Stormlands. At least my orders allow me to do that.

OOOOOOO

Derik Derik Waters was a part of a gang, practically everyone in Flea Bottom was part of some kind of brotherhood or 'house'. It was simply the difference between survival and death, lone wolves didn't last long in Flea Bottom, or even the rest of the city. If you didn't have someone to watch your back, someone you could trust at least a little then you were dead. His gang was called the Bastard's Boys, since they were all bastards who didn't know who their father was, and in some cases their mother too. They were all ages starting from as young as nine to as old as thirty, with seniority denoting status among the gang.

Life in Flea Bottom was hard at the best of times, but since the siege began it had become even worse. Derik didn't really have the vocabulary or knowledge to understand why, food simply wasn't coming in. Nor was anything else. Iron for the smithies, wood for the almost constant construction projects going on everywhere in the city, leather for the leather makers, flour, wheat, charcoal, everything that made the economy of the city go came from outside.

King's Landing sat in the Crownlands like a giant lump of granite on a thin sheet of leather, distorting everything around it. Of course it also created things, but those things needed other things to be created from. So the economy of the city had simply ground to a halt slowly and of course being at the bottom rung Flea Bottom was always going to get the worst of it.

Derik didn't understand any of that, all he knew was he hadn't eaten anything beyond Bowls o' brown for a few weeks now. Worse the bowls were starting to look disturbing even to his Flea Bottom trained eyes. He had also been fired from his job down at the docks, and his woman hadn't been home in two days. When went to the brothel she worked at to see if she was still there for some reason, he'd been told that she had gone home on time two days back. He'd also been told she had a deep, racking cough as she was. A sick person had about as much chance of walking the streets of Flea Bottom as a fish did of flying.

So Derik Waters was angry, one of hundreds of thousands of people in the capital that were becoming angry and looking for targets take their anger out on. That was why he and thousands of others were here listening to a former merchant as he shouted exhortations against the royal family off of the Street of Flour

"This can all be laid on the feet of the Bastard King and his Bitch Mother," said the merchant, which elicited a roar from the crowd. "The Lannisters have always run roughshod over King's Landing! I'm not the only man here who can remember what they did during the Robert's Rebellion, and you all know what happened in the Battle of Two Truths! The Lannisters shit gold, but all we see is the glitter on their blades, never the gold itself!"

That won another roar from the crowd as Derik and all the other men around him shouted and raged. Normally they would never have listened to a merchant, especially one who looked well-off. Now, if you looked close enough you could see that the siege had had an effect on him. His clothing was badly frayed in places and his body was far thinner than it had been judging by how loose it were on him.

"Robert might not 've been a good King, but at least he was someone we could relate to! At least he didn't shit all over us, at least he didn't burn us or butcher our children!"

That won an even louder roar and the crowd began to stir, every man there checking their makeshift weapons. Though makeshift wasn't really the proper word for some of the weapons, billhooks, meat cleaver's, all different kinds of hammers, awls, heavy saws. A lot of people in the city routinely used tools that could be used as weapons all too easily.

"Now Robert's brother is out there! Renly might be too pretty to be real, but at least he's an honest one, one who will speak up for the people! Now I say we open the door for him. Who's with me!?"

The crowd roared surging towards the nearest gate, with the merchant deep in it somewhere holding a very rusty yet still serviceable short sword. Derik found himself near the front of the mob but didn't have a problem with this. His blood was up, he had a cargo-man's hook in one hand and a rage to take on the world.

That emotion began to cool the moment the mob was within sight of the interior defenses that had been thrown up around the gates. Several buildings had been smashed to pieces to create a makeshift barricade shaped in a U around the gate facing outwards into the rest of the city. It was only two stories tall, and if the mob was armed with bows it wouldn't have been a very good position because there was only a smattering of cover on the top created by bits and pieces of rubble sticking out from the rest of the barricade. But they didn't.

"You are ordered to disperse!" Shouted a voice, somehow being heard over this sounds of the mob roaring forward. Derik wasn't the only one to see the dozens of bowmen on up there, who were quickly being joined by others as they climbed up the barricade's back.

Nor was Derik the only one in the crowd to begin to stop moving forward, having second thoughts. But there weren't enough of them to stop the press of bodies from behind, and however unwittingly that first group of rioters found themselves being pressed forward by their fellows.

"I said disperse, Stranger damn you!"Though no one in the mob knew it, the man shouting was Lord Harte. Having been stripped of his command on the wall, he had been given command of the interior defenses of the Old Gate. The bruises Jaime had given him at the Hand's behest for springing their most dangerous defensive trap too soon had healed for the most part. And he had taken to his new task with enthusiasm and creativity…

The crowd jeered, and a few men began to throw cobblestones up trying to hit the archers upon the barricade. They weren't close enough just yet though. One or two smaller stones hit among the archers, but that was all.

It seemed to be enough for the commander up there however who said "Fire!" Bows began to twang, and screams began in the mob as people hit by arrows. Yet that seems to only incense the mob further, and they rushed forward towards the barricades.

The archers fired as quickly as they could not even taking the time to aim, but the mob was simply too large for their arrows to stop. Somehow the gestalt mind of the mob seemed to realize this, and shouts and jeers began again as men all around realized that they would win through if they just kept pressing. They would lose dozens, but that didn't matter, it would always be someone else doing the dying.

That equation changed however when the mob reached the final block that would carry them up to the barricade. There Derik and a few others kicked over or smashed a few small jugs. Then they began to scream and that scream went on for the rest of their shortened lives.

Those small jugs contained wildfire. Wildfire ignited from even the gentlest tap especially if it had been left out in the sun for even a few moments as these had been. Before the mob had been spotted, they had been covered by small tarps, which kept the direct sunlight off them though they had done nothing to prevent the jugs from heating up even with the occasional rain shower. Those tarps had been removed before the mob was in sight, and now the wildfire raged.

It started slowly, the screaming in one portion of the mob rising higher and faster than the others, but it soon spread. There were dozens of those small jugs around, hidden in the nearest side streets towards the barricades all around each of the seven Gates. The wildfire spread so fast and so quickly that most of the mob couldn't even flee. The green fire was everywhere, consuming all in its path.

The Lannisters had once more brought fire to the city, decimating the first large-scale riot.

OOOOOOO

Tytos Blackwood frowned as he stood in one of the guard towers set to one side of Raventree Hall's main gate, watching as a little under half of the besieging army out there pulled out of their camp and began to march away. "What is going on now?"

"Those are Bracken colors there father." His eldest son Brynden muttered. "By the old gods, what could have happened to convince that traitor Jonos to pull his force back from attacking us?"

"Well it's not like the siege was going anywhere." Lucas, Tytos' next oldest son scoffed. "They've only made a few small attempts to storm our walls, simply digging in and trying to batter our main gate down with no success at all."

That was true, Tytos reflected. The attackers had only attempted to try and take the walls by storm twice, taking severe losses in their attacking forces each time. The fact the defenders actually had too many men to man their defenses made any assault like that difficult in the extreme.

"Their siege towers would be a problem if not for our catapult." Brynden reminded his young brother. "After we smashed the first two they seem reluctant to use them further, but that's no reason to get complacent."

"Brynden is right," Tytos said, speaking up for the first time and ending his son's argument. "We can't afford to get complacent. They are starting to tunnel out there, which means we might need to create counter-tunnels soon." That made both his sons nod grimly. Fighting in a tunnel like that would be deadly for both sides, and if the attackers could keep the tunnel open, their numbers would begin to tell.

Really thanks to the size of the castle's walls and his house's preparations prior to the beginning of the siege, that was really the only way the attackers could end the siege in their favor. They certainly didn't have as much food out there as he did in here, thanks to the aid of the smallfolk who were now protected by his castle's walls.

After a moment Tytos spoke up to lighten the mood. "As to what could cause Bracken to pull back like this, only an assault on his land or castle could pull him away from our throats. Somehow I think the wolves have come, and the lions and their allies are feeling the pinch."

OOOOOOO

"How did she get so big?" Bess Bracken asked, rubbing one hand down the side of the massive direwolf that so fascinated her.

Arya smiled at her, but did not stop in her work of grooming Nymeria. Here in the Riverlands all of the direwolves shed somewhat, though not nearly as much as Arya had expected them to. They know winter is coming just as much as we do, she thought before shaking her head. "They're direwolves, not regular wolves this is the size they're supposed to be, I think."

"But she's as large as a warhorse!" exclaimed Bess incredulously. "What would they eat in the wild?"

"Anything they want to." Arya laughed. "Ghost prefers moose, and Fenris has a liking for bear. My Nymeria seems to prefer deer meat accompanied by mushrooms for some reason. She'll eat mushrooms raw, though thankfully she seems to know instinctively which types not to eat."

"Really?" Bess laughed, taking a brush that Arya past to her. "I like chicken myself." Arya laughed and the two of them continued to work on the large direwolf's fur while she lay there grumbling happily at the attention.

Arya had decided to take a page out of her older brother's book: that the children of families that had broken their oaths or fought against them were not to be blamed for the acts of their parents. As such she had made certain that all of the Bracken ladies were treated well and had actually befriended Bess. The younger girl was simply fascinated by Nymeria, and had apparently been bugging her mother for over a year now to get her a hunting dog of her own. Her father wouldn't hear of it, considering hunting to be something only men could do.

The young girl had confided in Arya that she had long chafed at being forced to take lessons about etiquette, sewing and other things that were just uninteresting to her, and had tried her hand at many other things. She'd even gotten the castle's master-of-arms to train her a time or two until her parents found out and put a stop to it. Because of this and her general attitude Arya saw Bess as a kindred spirit and was doing all she could to encourage the girl, as was Dacey.

The two of them continued to talk while taking care of Nymeria, but soon enough it was almost dark out, and Arya escorted Bess back to her rooms in the top floor of the keep. She nodded at the two guards, both Mormont men, who made up a large portion of the northern portion of their men here. The Mormonts all knew how to swim, not well, but enough to get them across a river, something that couldn't be said of House Umber, Hornwood, or Karstark men.

Once inside the noble apartments, she saw Lady Bracken waiting for them. The older woman frowned at her daughter but Bess stared back not giving an inch. "I will speak to you later my girl." Lady Bracken finally said pointing imperiously toward Bess's bedroom. "To bed with you."

Bess growled a little, but nodded and moved off. The moment her daughter was out of earshot the older woman whirled back to face Arya who was still standing there, a faint smirk on her face. "It's bad enough you people took our castle and imprisoned us, now you're filling my daughter's foolish head with these idiotic ideas of yours!"

"How are they idiotic? I would've thought that you'd understand with Dacey and I here that a woman could become a warrior if she tried hard enough, or anything else she wished. The Mormont women have always been warriors as far back as anyone can remember. And winter is coming, you should be happy that your daughter wants to toughen herself up."

"I've heard the words of House Stark before, they didn't impress me then and they don't impress me now." Lady Bracken retorted with a sneer. "Just because you northern barbarians sometimes have to let your women learn the ways of war doesn't mean here in civilized lands that it's something we encourage. I demand you stop encouraging her!"

"My mother thought that same way, until I helped stop an attack that might have taken Winterfell by surprise." Arya said with a shrug. "If one of your older daughters had been strong enough to be a warrior, they might have also been smart enough to see through our disguises before we were inside Stone Hedge. And besides, do you really think you're in a position to make demands of me?"

Lady Bracken scowled but subsided when Nymeria moved up behind Arya, nuzzling into the short girl's hair from behind. Lady Bracken looked away for a moment then back at the young Stark girl. "What will happen to us anyway? You said you wouldn't allow us to be mistreated, and I have to say that you haven't yet, but what will happen to us if your side wins?"

"When my brother wins." Arya said smirking with a hint of teeth which caused the other woman to back away slightly. "When my brother wins, your House will be punished heavily. The precedent's already been set with the Freys. You'll probably be stripped of your Noble status, this castle and everything else. You personally might be sent into exile and your children taken by other houses, or into the Silent Sisters."

Arya was actually wondering if she could get away with taking Bess as a servant. Since she wasn't a knight she couldn't take a squire, but a page, maybe? She liked the younger girl, and encouraging another girl to rebel against what society saw as her role was fun as all get out.

"What if my husband surrenders, would that grant us leniency?" The older woman asked, aghast.

"Maybe, that's not my call. I doubt you'd be allowed to keep Stone Hedge even then, it's too good a castle. Whatever else you won't be in any position to continue this whole Blackwood/Bracken feud. You lot backed the wrong side, that's all there is to it."

"You know my husband will come for us? He'll have no choice but to try to retake the castle. Will you use us as hostages against that?" Actually Lady Bracken was more worried about such a ploy being useless than being used in the first place. The Lannisters were not the sort to care about hostages outside their own family.

"Maybe." Arya replied, shrugging. "It depends on whether or not he's in charge out there. If he is, we might and even if he sieges us we've got enough supplies in here to last us for years, and I doubt that any army trying to besiege us would even have weeks until my brother arrives to destroy them."

"Understand me." Arya went on, stepping forward into the older woman's personal space and staring up at her, her eyes hard. "I'm personally disgusted by the fact that your family sided with the Lannisters after they had imprisoned my uncle, wiped out House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest and a few other houses along their way here. If you had just declared neutrality, or simply acceded to their demands for food in return for them not pillaging your people I would've understood, but your husband didn't do that. Instead tried to settle your old gods-damned petty feud with House Blackwood! I doubt when my grandfather told his lords to act as their own conscience dictates that he had that in mind! Whatever happens to most of your family, I won't give a damn."

Lady Bracken backed away, her eyes wide and fearful for a moment and Arya growled a little at her before turning away abruptly. "But at least my brother and I won't paint your daughters with the same brush as their father and the rest of your house. We're not like the Lannisters, we're not going to wipe out your family, but we will make damn certain that your family is never in a position to ever threaten the peace of the realm again."

With that Arya walked off, leaving lady Bracken staring after her. Later that day Arya and Dacey met with Hathan and Roger. Hathan was still convalescing and would be for weeks yet. Despite their training with Ranma none of the Wolfsworn had the ability to use their ki to enhance their healing ability, not even Jon could do that, and Hathan had taken serious injuries in the battle holding the entrance to the barracks.

Sitting down, Arya took a moment to smirk at Roger, who scowled back at her. Bess wasn't the only Bracken girl attempting to get close with one of her captures. The oldest daughter, Barbara was constantly trying to flirt with Roger whenever she could when the girls were allowed out of their rooms for meals. Roger however knew precisely what his wildling wife would do to him if he cheated on her, and rebuffed her advances at every turn. This strangely enough simply made her more determined rather than make her decide to switch her attempts onto one of the others.

"Any word from Edd?"Roger asked, turning away from Arya purposefully.

Eddy was easily the best of the Wolfsworn in scouting around, not in hunting, just scouting. And he had been sent to watch the road past the point where they had ambushed the convoy during that ambush just in case, and hadn't rejoined them for the actual battle. That way, if things went wrong in the attack he and his men would've still been around to attack the Lannister supply lines. Luckily that hadn't been necessary.

"Not yet, though he should pull back some time tomorrow. I can't imagine it would take longer than five days for word of what happened here to get to the Lannister forces at the Kneeling Ford." Dacey responded before turning to Hathan. "Are you done your survey of the supplies?"

"Yes, and I have to tell you taking Stone Hedge was a magnificent idea Arya. Not only were they using the convoy system up to the Kneeling man's Ford, but they were using it from Wayfarer's Rest to her. Apparently there are still bandits out there that take any opportunity they can to attack their supply chain. In fact the convoy from here to Wayfarer's Rest has to be guarded by at least 400 men at a time and even then is sometimes attacked." Hathan replied.

"We've got enough supplies here for us to last us for more than decades with our numbers, which would be enough for a force the size of the Lannister main army for at least a few weeks. Without this place, and without Wayfarer's Rest…" Roger shrugged. "They'll have to live off the land, and an army that size simply can't do it. Ranma was right about that at least."

"I could wish we could let Edd and his men out there, they could continue to hit any hunting groups or whatever." Hathan mused. "But we'll probably need all the help we can get her."

Dacey nodded agreement, and the conversation turned to the defense of the castle. Each of them would be in command, initially at least, of a different guard shift, so that 200 men were on the walls at all times, though obviously in a pitched battle more could be called up. The rotation would keep their men fresh for the fight.

It was just as well they had rested their men when they could, because early the next day Edd and his men fell back to the keep. As the rest of his men trooped through the gates he yelled up at Dacey, who was standing on the wall. "They're about two hours behind us, you should start seeing them soon! I'd estimate that they sent at least 4 or 5000 men, nearly their entire force from the Kneeling Man's ford! And they've got both grapnels and some makeshift rope ladders. I'd bet anything they'll start to make a makeshift battering ram when they get here too."

Dacey nodded grimly then turned to one of her men. "Get the others up here, I want as many men on the wall as we can get."

A moment later Arya raced out of the keep, pulling on her suit of lizard-lion armor as she went. Growling angrily Nymeria followed her, but remained in the courtyard by one of the towers rather than follow Arya out onto the wall itself. There just wasn't enough room out there for her to move around, and Nymeria wasn't as good as Fenris was at using ki to strengthen her body's durability. "They're coming?"

Dacey nodded, not taking her eyes from the northern vista. "That's what Edd says."

Soon enough the attacking army came into view. Dacey wasn't very good at estimating numbers but the size of the army did seem to point to there being 4 or 5000 men out there. More than enough to wipe out at her force in the open field with minimal effort, considering there was only about six hundred of them. Attacking us inside a castle however, that's a different bard's tale, she thought grimly.

Rather than surround the castle, the attackers kept marching straight up to it, with grapnels and rope ladders at the ready. Archers began to fire immediately as the attackers entered their range, causing the attackers vanguard to fall back and their own archers to come up. Soon an archer duel began at the front of the castle, slowly spreading out as the attackers did. At least a hundred men died in those first few moments, none of whom were among the men on the wall. The attackers didn't have any way to defend their men from high-angle fire while Stone Hedge was a large and well-built castle.

Even so a battering ram was brought forward, one of its ends still showing several dozen small branches covered with leaves. Dozens of men with large shields tried desperately to defend the men carrying it while they raced forward.

"Archers concentrate fire on the battering ram!" Dacey ordered. All around her the men along the wall and in the gatehouse turned their attention from the enemy's archers to firing on the men with the battering ram. Even with the numbers of men around them with shields, the attackers couldn't stand such a weight of fire. Soon enough the battering ram faltered under that fire, many of the men that had carried it going down. The attackers fell back in disarray, unwilling to face that level of fire, and the archers went back to sniping with their opposite numbers.

Elsewhere, men had raced forward with grapnels throwing them up here and there along the wall. The defenders cut these ropes quickly as they could, but they made themselves targets to the opposing archers and two men died doing so. Despite this however, all the ropes were cut quickly, and the attackers were forced to fall back. At the sound of a bugle the army retreated out of the range licking its wounds.

Arya frowned, absentmindedly checking Fang's edge after using it to cut one of the grapnels. "They must not have realized how many of us there were if they thought that would've worked."

"True, but the next time they'll come after us stronger and better prepared." Roger replied from the next to her.

"Who cares?" Arya said scoffing. "They can't take us by siege, they can only take us by assault and we've got more than enough men to make them pay ten to one every time they try. I don't think they'll be able to stomach that kind of exchange."

"That's rather cold of you, but true enough." Edd chuckled grimly, testing his spear's leaf-shaped head with a finger.

Two days later, the besieging army was reinforced further by the arrival of a force nearly as large as the first that had arrived, flying house Bracken colors. While the rest of his army set up camp all around him, the Lord of the castle came forward under flag of truce.

Edd, Roger, Dacey and Arya were all standing on the wall by the gate, watching as the traitor rode up. Edd looked at the others, nudging Arya's bow which was propped up next to the younger girl. "Hmmm?" He asked hopefully.

"I wish," Arya muttered. "I've got no patience for traitors. But he's flying a flag of truce. The old gods would not look on us favorably for breaking such."

Dacey and Roger both rolled their eyes at their friends' bloodthirstiness, waiting silently for Jonos to speak. Soon enough he did so, bellowing out, "I am Lord Jonos Bracken, lord of Stone Hedge. I demand to know if my family is still safe, and what I might do to secure their release."

As the leader of this assault, Dacey took it upon herself to answer. "I am Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. Your family is safe, and will remain such. We have no need or desire to use them as hostages at this time." In an aside she muttered, "Since I doubt you'd be allowed to honor any deal based off that."

The others all nodded, with Roger going so far as to reply. "Aye, the Westerlanders have never been shy about sacrificing hostages, especially those not their own. And the first force that arrived outnumbers Bracken's."

Dacey waved him to silence, speaking up to continue her reply. "As to terms to secure their release, that is impossible. You stand accused of treachery against your Lord Paramount and the Riverlands as a whole, aiding the invaders of this country for your own personal gain. Thus the only terms we are allowed to take from you and your family is unconditional surrender."

"Then I will take back my castle and family by force." Jonos bellowed belligerently, not responding to the insults, then wheeled his horse away.

He firmly believed he was on the right side even now, the evidence of Joffrey's bastardy was too thin in his opinion, and Edmure was well known as a hothead, so could have easily been led into some sort of treachery. And more practically, the Tully's power had been waning badly, else how could the Freys have gone so long with their power grabs unchallenged by their Lord Paramount? No, he had seen a chance and took it, there was nothing wrong with that.

"Love your idea of diplomacy Dacey," Edd remarked, smirking at the older woman. "Though I don't remember Ranma ever actually telling us we couldn't offer our own terms to the traitorous Riverlands houses."

"He didn't but I think I offered the terms he and Daenerys would have offered if they were here. Besides I was diplomatic. I didn't call him a son of a bitch, a gold-buggering harlot, or a Lannister whipping boy with rocks for brains." Dacey replied primly, causing the others to laugh, even as the besieging army began to prepare an attack.

OOOOOOO

Stannis pulled himself up over the wall, while behind and in front of him his personal guard had gone, clearing the areas of the wall to allow him access. He pushed one man aside and roared out,"Ours is the fury!" while he brought the Lightbringer around. The sight of the flaming sword frightened his enemies, but a few of them were still brave enough to try and charge towards him along the wall. One died from an arrow to the side of the head from the ground outside the castle of House Stokeworth. Another was engaged briefly with one of his Flame Guard, but the third reached Stannis. The greatsword in Stannis' hands slashed into the short sword of the other man slamming it out of his hand and slicing him open from one side of his stomach to the other.

A kick to the dead body and Stannis was away, leading the assault towards where a corner tower would allow access to the courtyard below and the keep beyond. Behind him, more men came up the ropes, and there was a deep rumble as a siege tower slammed into the side of the wall of the castle. There was another roar as more men came across its wooden bridge, and Stannis smiled grimly.

He had given Ser Balman Birch, who had married into the Stokeworth family and who was the de-facto leader of house given the men they had sent to King's Landing, a chance to surrender, and two days to consider it. After that time passed his army had begun its attack. The castle had held out for four days, but that was only because Stannis wanted the castle to remain standing unlike Rosby, whose outer walls he had ordered pulled down. But Stokeworth was in the center of very decent, well carried for farm land, and he had ordered his men to tread lightly here, something he enforced in as draconian a manner as possible. While Stokeworth would never be able to feed even a tenth part of the capital's population, it would be able to feed his army and its own smallfolk easily enough for a few months.

A moment later he didn't have time to think about such things. There was a group of fifteen men inside the tower, and Stannis was all alone for a moment. Even the fear of his flaming sword wasn't enough to overcome the courage given by numbers and the men charged him. He ducked under one sword blade, while blocking a blow from a flail, before Stannis quickly brought his greatsword slamming into and through one man's arm into his chest piercing both before he pulled it out quickly to block an overhand blow from a mace.

"Clear the door my King!" shouted a voice behind him, and Stannis grunted, pushing hard against the haft of the mace then ducking aside from another blow from the mace before kicking out catching that man in the balls. Stannis grabbed the mace wielder by the head, pulling him up and using his body as a shield towards his friends as he pushed forward allowing another swordsman in behind him. The man in his grip gasped as one of his former comrades tried to shove his longsword through his body to get to Stannis, but it didn't work.

Stannis was able to move to one side of the doorway, still using the other man as a shield for a moment his own blade having fallen to the floor of the guard room as he simply protected himself while more of his men piled into the tower around him. Soon the last defender went down, and he tossed the body of his former shield aside before grabbing up the Lightbringer again. "Forward!"

A moment later Stannis was standing in the courtyard staring up at the keep. It's doors were closed, but that would not last long. Already the main gate was being opened, his men were pouring in. He nodded to Lord Buckler, who had proven himself one of the better men Stannis had in close combat. He didn't know enough about strategy or tactics to make a decent wartime Hand, but as a leader in this kind of battle, he would do well. The two men nodded at one another, then Stannis bellowed. "Bring up the battering ram!"

Two hours later the battle was over, and the prisoners, what there were of them were being dragged out. The men anyway, the women were facing something far worse. Realizing this when he didn't see any maids among the prisoners being brought out of the keep Ser Seaworth scowled. I'll hold my hand up to being a pirate, a scoundrel, even a murderer, but there are some things I won't allow if I can help it. With that thought foremost in his mind, Davos grabbed a few of his House's men and entered the keep determinedly.

He found the women, the maids and other servants of the castle here and there in the keep where they had tried to hide unsuccessfully. Now the soldiers were doing what victorious armies due to the women of their enemies. Davos and his men put a stop to such as the moved through the keep, but they began to run into opposition when they ascended to the second floor.

There in the keep's kitchen they found a man who had just grabbed a young servant girl, who couldn't be more than 15 and threw her to the ground. His fellows all around were already undoing their breaches as the girl screamed beneath the first man.

"Get off her." Davos said, growling the words. When the man didn't obey fast enough, Seaworth bleakly thrust his sword into the man's back and through his stomach. The girl almost screamed again as she was suddenly awash with blood, but her screaming stopped as Davos pulled her would-be rapists body off her and tossed it to the side. Behind Seaworth his men spread out, daring the other men in the room to do anything.

From another room on the far side of the kitchen, which might've been the storeroom or some such, several dozen other soldiers poured out. All of them had their blades out, and their eyes were ugly as they moved toward Davos and his men.

Behind them Davos could see five other maids, two of whom had already been stripped of their clothing while the others looked as if they had been beaten. He glared at the men, and was about to order them to put up their blades in Stannis' name when the would-be rapists stopped suddenly, suddenly looking very worried.

"Is there a problem here?" said a voice from behind Davos and he turned, his eyes widening slightly. In the doorway stood twenty of the Flame Guard their hands on their swords, their shoulders marked with the burning flame that denoted their station.

The soldiers who might've fought Seaworth and his men backed off fearfully. Not only were they now outnumbered, but it was commonly thought among the regular soldiery that the men of the Flame Guard were not right in the head. Fighting them was a losing proposition.

After a moment the leader of this group said simply, "Lord Stannis and the lady have ordered that the womenfolk not be molested. This will happen."

Davos moved to the doorway and looked on in astonishment as the Flame Guard entered the keep purposefully. All of them, and their numbers were now up to 400. But behind them came an even worse force. Melisandre herself strode into the keep glaring around. And if that doesn't do it nothing will he thought, being careful not to meet Melisandre's eyes, better safe than sorry after all. Strange, I wouldn't have thought Melisandre the sort of woman to care what happens to other women, but I suppose I could be wrong, about that at least.

Unknown to Seaworth, Melisandre had plans for those women. Plans which would in time be just as horrifying to the women as what would have happened to them otherwise.

That night Stannis and the rest of his lords and most favored lieutenants slept in the keep. The upper halls hadn't seen much in the way of fighting and were very livable. It was nice to have a bed rather than a cot after so long in the field.

At her Lord's behest Melisandre tried one more time to scry current events without a sacrifice. She was at it for several hours, refusing to come away with nothing, until finally she got a vision. The steel jaws of the wolf, ripping out a lion's guts. The blood from the wound sprayed everywhere, tiny drops of blood each becoming, as the vision changed, a richly armored knight. The next image was of a giant skull rising from a city which she recognized at King's Landing. Then suddenly the skull multiplied, spreading everywhere. Then that too changed, the skulls freezing as a giant hand of snow and ice suddenly appeared, and winter blanketed the land.

She gasped, breaking out of the vision and stumbling away from the fire shaking her head for a moment. The Great Other, his hand is growing stronger his arm longer as winter nears! The rest she didn't understand, but that last piece was easy enough. She hastily grabbed up a robe draping it over her body, her skin glistening with sweat and her breasts heaving for a moment as she composed herself, her hands and legs trembling for a moment. When she was certain she had control of herself Melisandre raced out of her room to find Stannis.

At that moment Stannis was the only one of his lords awake, standing in the castle's study pouring over his map. He wasn't actually thinking about the physical map so much. No, he was wondering about the Reach, and their army, as well as what Melisandre and his own spies had reported about the dangers pressing the Reach from every direction. How loyal were they? How loyal were the Stormlands lords with Renly, surely they had learned by this point that Renly was no Robert reborn? What would the combined army's morale and disposition be? All those things would matter when they clashed, as they inevitably would.

He looked up as Melisandre entered, out of breath even from the short distance from her room to his at the end of the hall. The vision had really taken it out of her. Stannis frowned, watching her legs and hands shaking with exhaustion. "What have you seen?" He asked, pushing a chair towards her before he turned to the series of bottles two one side of the room.

Melisandre sat down quickly, and he passed her a cup of good brandy quickly. She gulped down the entire glass then put it down and began to explain the series of images she had seen.

After a moment Stannis sat as well, his face almost ashen. "The first vision is simple enough to understand, the war between the wolves and the lions continues, and the young Stark has apparently won a major victory. But the rest…" He shook his head, his face carved from granite. "Plague, a worst enemy than any army."

"It is not just that!" Melisandre said sharply. "Those bodies, unless they are burned to ash, when winter comes… When the power of the Great Other comes they will come alive! With an army of that size, nothing will stand against it."

Stannis thought that was an exaggeration. Even if he believed in this Great Other, the Wall had withstood the White Walkers several times in ages past, and they had not been able to move around it before. Still, he wasn't about to say that aloud, understanding that that was one of Melisandre's main objectives in helping him gain the throne.

Worse, the problem of the plague was real enough. It was a wonder really that King's Landing hadn't had one before this. Moreover, that danger was something he could grasp. It also forced his hand in a way. I had hoped to let my army gain more training time, then send out overtures to various Stormlands and Reach lords that might be willing to turn their coats after seeing how incompetent my brother is in the field. But not now, I cannot trust Renly to be as ruthless as he needs to be to deal with a plague. I'll still send out various messages, especially to the Florents and others of the Reach, but they won't have nearly as long as I hoped to decide to switch sides…

After several moment's reflection Stannis spoke aloud again. "Tell me Melisandre, how would you make a city burn?"

OOOOOOO

Hearing the call from the lookout indicating he had seen land in the southwest Asha smiled widely, looking forward to the end of this particular journey.

The trip down from the north had been very nervous. Just because the captains decided to follow her initially didn't mean all of them were happy about it later, and it'd taken several more instances of smooth talking to make them keep following her. Even so she had lost two ships when they got to the Cape of Eagles. They had split off to join their fellows attacking that beleaguered land.

Stupid of them she thought now, not for the first time. What prizes do they think to find in that area of fishermen, and farmers, there's nothing of import there! Nothing worth the Iron Price. Still, if I can get Rodrik on my side, this lot can go hang for all I care.

A few hours later she was marching her way up towards Ten Towers, the seat of one of the greatest houses of the Ironborn. She was immediately admitted into Ten Towers, the seat of House Harlaw, since the guards knew her well, she had been here many times before in her youth. The castle was named that because the lord who had commissioned its construction had been a man of mercurial moods, and every single tower that was scattered across the castle looked different.

Asha paused for just a moment before she entered the largest tower, a massive spire that served as the castle's keep, looking around at the other towers. She remembered playing tag and running around here in her youth, up and down steps and all around the towers. Asha often felt more at home here in Ten Towers than back in the castle of Pyke, though that wasn't saying much.

A few minutes later Asha was ushered into the Reader's, as he was known, study. He was of course reading when she was shown inside. This time however he wasn't reading one of the books which lined every inch of the large studies interior, instead he was reading a note of some kind. He looked up as Asha entered, setting aside the note with a small smile. "My watchers said that you returned with ten ships, well done! I thought that you'd only return with three or four at most."

"You knew I'd run into trouble." Asha said, making the question a statement as she looked at the older man.

Rodrik Harlaw was an older man of her father's generation, but that was about all he had in common with Balon Greyjoy. Where Balon simply looked as if he had a certain low cunning, as well as a lot of anger and arrogance, Rodrik looked like a scholar, which matched his voice. He could also make the usually harsh, dark tones of the language of the Iron Islands seem almost flowing. He was somewhat shorter than Balon, his hair was almost completely solid gray, and his beard was neatly trimmed.

For all that he looked like a scholar though Rodrik had and indeed was still a capable captain. His ship, the Sea Song, was well maintained and Asha had served on it under his command when she was younger. His hands, despite the fact that they were stained with ink, were large and strong, and there was a mace hanging from the back of his chair.

"Oh yes, it was obvious. I don't think your father set out to let you fail, but he certainly sent enough older captains, men who knew their own minds, along so he could be certain there would be some kind of assault on the North. Foolish, but if you'll forgive me Balon was never one for deep thinking. "

Rodrik took off the Myrish glass he needed to use to read with, setting it down with care then suddenly leaned forward. The affable old scholar disappeared, replaced by the intelligent and penetrating eyes of an Ironborn warrior who had lead his ship and family to becoming the most powerful House in the Islands despite Balon's Rebellion and everything else life through at them.

"This whole operation, the 'Rise of the Kraken', was an idiotic endeavor from the very beginning." he said bluntly. "If Balon was so determined to attack Westeros we should have attacked Seagard alone with our full forces. Then we might have taken the day, and we could have seen a time to come when the Ironborn might rule a portion of the Riverlands once again if we allied with one of the other powers, the Lannisters for preference. As it is we've not only woken the wolf and the fish but the lion as well, and I've no doubt pricked ourselves on the roses of the Reach."

At her raised eyebrow Rodrik shrugged. "I haven't heard anything from any of the other attacks, what does that tell you?"

Asha groaned slightly. A victory was shouted and lauded about, a loss… if you were the Ironborn there was nobody alive to tell about it. "How long would it take some survivors from Lannisport to get here? I've never been on that route before, I've always gone far out to sea to make certain I didn't see any of their naval galleys."

"If there were survivors of that attack, they'll be in sight of Harlaw within a few days, if they came directly here at any rate. I'd think that they'd be Blacktyde ships. Like myself Baelor was not happy about being forced to join the war. I think he'd take any chance he could to get away."

Rodrik stared at her, and Asha thought quickly. "How many ships can you give me?"

"I could pledge you another two dozen longships, eventually. It would take time to get most of them here of course, I had to hide them so that your father wouldn't find them. Up rivers, here in there all along my island. Why?" Rodrick's tone however showed he already had a shrewd idea.

"I need a victory, a big one, one with lots of reward for our iron price, with that I'll be able to command enough respect from the other captains, and we might be able to do something."

"Like what?" Rodrik pressed, shaking his head. "If Rise of the Kraken was the disaster we both think it is, what can we do? This is a trick question my dear. It only has one answer."

"You mean defend the islands? From who? With everything happening on the mainland, who is going to have enough attention to spare for us?" Asha asked skeptically.

"Everyone we attacked." Rodrik said bluntly. "We ourselves might not be important in the grand scheme of things, but little pinpricks can add up, and as my analogy should have told you, I'm afraid that out attacks succeeded just enough to rouse our enemies, but not enough to destroy their ability to strike back. Never do an enemy a small injury my dear, remember that. However, we need more information about the other attacks and we need you to get your victory before we could decide what to do next. By the way, what captains came with you?"

Asha described them, and watched as Rodrik's eyebrows went up. "Really, the Kennings split? Interesting. I think you might wish to take the time to speak to Lord Kenning about that, it strikes me as odd. For now however, I can promise you several ships in the next several days. Until they arrive, my House is yours. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to finish before dinner."

"Heh, I'll let you to your reading old man." Asha laughed, turning away with much of her humor restored. Over the next few days as Rodrik began to gather his ships, Asha did partake in Ten Tower's hospitality. On the third day she decided to take Rodrik's advice however, and journeyed to Castle Kenning, House Kenning's seat.

It was inland, but a river led up to it from the ocean, allowing her to use Black Wind to get there rather than journey overland on horse, something Asha was thankful for not being a very good rider. In fact she'd rather eat a horse than ride on one.

Letting Qarl in command of the ship Asha jumped out onto the small wharf which allowed access to the small keep of House Kenning. The door was opened for her, and the castellan of the keep, an older man with a fearsome set of facial scars, only one eye and a peg leg, showed her into his lord's sitting room bidding her wait there for him.

The room was much more spartanly furnished than the Reader's, and not just because of the absence of books or book shelves. There were several soft, comfortable chairs, a single desk at one end of the room, a lit fireplace on one wall, and several sconces for lit torches. But what caught Asha's attention was the tapestry hung on the wall directly across from the fireplace. It showed the banner of the house, a hand coming out of some storm clouds, one finger pointed downward sending lightning bolts everywhere.

Asha had seen the banner before, not only in the past month but before that, and yet it's significance had never actually penetrated. The sign was that of the Storm god, the evil god in the Old Way, the enemy of the Drowned God, and the enemy of all those who followed the Old Way. Why didn't I notice that before? Why in the Drowned God's name would anyone put that symbol on their houses' banners?

"Our symbol shocks you don't it?" Said an older male voice from the doorway to the sitting room.

Quickly Asha turned, almost unconsciously letting one hand fall to her cutlass's hilt almost drawing it before she stopped herself. The man in front of her was old, older than Rodrik's generation, older even than The Sparr, and almost as heavily scarred as his castellan. He was missing one arm, and his remaining hand was missing a finger, his face also bore several scars, and though he had both eyes still they were rheumy with age.

The man cackled for a second. "Hah, a pretty thing ain't I? Hah, the Old Way's all about da glory of payin' the Iron Price, of fightin' and plundering, but the damned Drowned Men don't e'er tell who really pays the Iron Price do they? Ironborn don't grow old, we just turn ta flotsam. I be Lord Kenning girl, and ye be Asha Greyjoy, daughter of the Fool King and niece of Aeron Wethair, the madman who eggs 'im on in his foolery."

"I didn't come here to listen to you attack the Drowned Men." Asha retorted, quickly getting her balance back. "I came to ask you why two of your ships decided to follow me rather than Ralf Kenning. He was an experienced and well-known captain of the Iron Fleet, and your House usually moves in step, just like the Harlaws."

Lord Kenning cackled again, moving to stand so his back was to the tapestry, forcing Asha to look at it if she wanted to keep talking to him. "Ralf be a good youngster suppose, but not fer deep thinkin' nor were he high in the family, despite bein' a Iron Fleet captain. Or because of it, if truth ye want. Ralf not be knowing what's the rest of us know, he don't believe in anythin' he can't be seein' with his own two eyes."

Asha kept one hand on her cutlass, something about this whole situation was putting her on edge, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "What doesn't he know?"

"That magic becomin' back into the world." Lord Kenning replied bluntly, leaning against the wall right under his House's banner. "The Drowned Men, they beclaimin' it be the Drowned God's will, favorin' your father's action. The Drowned God not be the only one showing his power. The tales say the Stark pup be the Old Gods' champion, there be dragons again, whispers of shadows movin'." His tone was disparaging as he spoke of the Drowned Men, almost contemptuous.

Asha frowned, not at the man's tone, like most Ironborn she didn't care one way or another about the Drowned Men. Most Ironborn only gave lip service to the Drowned God and its priests, but didn't truly believe in anything but the Iron Price. That was especially true since the last rebellion ended so badly. What made Asha frown was that Kenning was speaking of all this as if it was fact. "How do you know all this?"

"Longships go as far as Essos girl. That means word be getting back to us 'bout lots of things, slow but certain. Me son were in Qarth a month back, he hear of and even see some of their mages in action. Driving men mad wit' a glance, castin' illusions ta turn friend 'gainst friend, turning water into poison in the cup between one sip and the next. Before this, the Warlocks belosin' more power and influence every year, but now…" Lord Kenning shuddered, actually looking troubled for a moment. "Now they be on the rise, and the whole city be fearin' their power."

"What does this have to do with two of your longships following me instead of Ralf Kenning?" Asha asked, getting back to the main topic. The concept of magic returning was interesting, but she wasn't a magic user, and she wasn't about to go and ask for aid from the Drowned Men.

"History be written by the winners, as friends of the Reader ye know this." Kenning responded. Asha was struck by the fact he used Rodrik's nickname without any of the contempt habitually shown it, but the old man went on quickly. "That was true eons ago as it is now. Now, with magic on the rise and yer father's blunder, it might be we have the chance to reverse things, but only if we can husband our strength, pay the Iron Price fer as high a trade as we can."

Asha frowned at the words not understanding them, but then she stared, her face frozen in shock as she understood, glancing between the man and the banner hung above him. The banner that showed the hand of the Storm God. She backed away her eyes wide as she gripped her cutlass' hilt. "You, you don't, that, you… you worship the Storm God!?"

In the religion called the Old Way, the Drowned God was the center of belief, the creator of the Ironborn who made them to reave and rape their way across the ocean, who had created the idea of the Iron Price, of taking what you wanted through iron and blood rather than paying the gold. It was the Drowned God who, when a man drowned at sea or died during battle on the sea, welcomed him into his halls beneath the ocean.

On Ranma's old world three of the world's most prominent religions made space in their theology for a source of evil like the Anti-Christ, Shaitan or Satan depending on who was doing the speaking. The Storm God was that figure to the followers of the Drowned God. The creator of storms, the bringer of lightning and the fury that sent ships to the bottom outside of battle and honorable death, he who snuffed out the living fire that warmed the Grey King, the first king of the Ironborn.

It was only the fact that Asha wasn't a firm believer in the Drowned God in the first place that was keeping her from going for Kenning's throat right now.

Yet instead of taking umbrage at Asha's words Lord Kenning laughed. "Kakakaka, that's right girl, but think of what I said the winner rights the history! The followers of the Drowned God won, and they wrote the history, o'course they'd make their enemy as black as they could! Use that brain of yours!"

Asha frowned, her cutlass half off as she realized what the man was saying, before slamming it back into it's sheathe. "That, that still doesn't… do you have any proof of that?"

"Hah, none you'd believe, not if yer as bright as the Reader has always said. And truth be told, yer like Ralf in that, ye don't really believe in magic, despite me words about that do ye?"

Lord Kenning watched as Asha, rather reluctantly shook her head then laughed again. "Kakakaka! The truth might come to ye eventually, if ye be worth it. The Storm God be as much a god of battle as the Drowned God, but he be givin' favor where it due rather than just revelin' in death and giving naught but what the believers already have within 'em."

Kenning had not heard of the powers the Drowned Men had used to aid Balon in taking the Arbor, but even if he had Kenning wouldn't have cared. After all those powers came from death, the death by drowning for the penitents, or the vitality of the Drowned Men, and as such would have proven his point: that the Drowned God did not care about his believers only that it was fed by death. Of course in this it was not alone amongst the spiritual powers in the world.

It took a moment, but Asha was able to control herself. "You're right, any proof of that you could show me I wouldn't believe, and really it doesn't matter to me what the fuck you believe, so long as it doesn't cause division among the fleet, and your ships follow my orders. You say you're conserving your strength, what does that mean to me?"

"Bah, we've been keepin' the secret for millennia, hidin' in plain sight and only sharin' the truth with few even of our own family, and none who marry inta it neither. Kakakaka, most believe our banner be's a challenge, and that fittin' the As to what it means, our ships be followin' you so long as ye don't lead them into unwinnable battles. And specially if yer be fightin' to defend the isles. We be sending three more ships with ye when ye leave Harlaw."

"Fine." Asha barked, now wanting nothing more than to get away from this man and his insanity. She might not really believe in the Drowned God, but that didn't mean she was immune to being in the presence of a self-possessed Storm God worshiper. "Since defending the isles is one of my aims, that's fine. I'll see your ships when they arrive in the port."

With that she turned, hastening away. It occurred to her as she did that she could share the secret she's just been told with the rest of the Ironborn. Discovering a Storm God worshipper would probably win me a lot of points with the Drowned Men, and the Ironborn don't really need even that little a reason to turn on one another. After a moment though Asha rejected the idea. Not only would that weaken her fleet, but she had no respect for the Drowned Men in any event, since as a group they had backed her father's idiotic rebellion. No, best to ignore this frankly, it just doesn't matter now. By the time Black Wind had reached the ocean she almost believed that too.

Back in his castle, Lord Kenning sighed faintly, standing on the castle's parapet as a storm moved in, feeling the wind picking up. "A storm be comin', all ye can do is ride it as best ye can, Asha Greyjoy, if ye be worthy."

OOOOOOO

Ranma had recalled the heavy and light cavalry, wary of Tywin trying to set up a trap for them in the hours after the initial battle, not liking the fact he'd been able to keep his reserve intact and under control. The old lion was a cagey animal, and Ranma did not want to allow him any kind of victory to rally his men with.

As it was, the battle had been almost entirely one-sided. Going by initial reports Ranma and his men had thus far suffered a little under a thousand men dead, with only two dozen or so from the pike regiments. Those losses were mostly in the light cavalry under Lord Shawney that had shorn up the left side of the battle, and among his irregular infantry before they had fallen back through the pikes. The archers had taken some casualties against their fellows but not nearly as many as they had caused thanks to their longer-range and better armor.

Indeed, the incredibly low death toll among the northerners was at least partly because of the far better armor that House Stark had provided all of the northern infantry with. Even most of the archers had what Ranma's old world called brigandine armor. The trained armsmen who made up the irregular infantry had good chain mail and excellent helmets, while the pikes had chest plates over chain mail and equally good helmets. It made them even slower than they were made by their weapons, but it had served them well in battle. In comparison, the levy forces of the Westerlands were lucky to have leather armor or cheap scale mail. The armsmen's armor varied widely in quality, with House Lannister's men-at-arms armor matching that of the North, but many of them did not have helmets.

Worse, very few Houses emphasized the need to work together in battle when training their armsmen. Every Northman in the army had been drilled to work with his fellows, to guard one another's backs and to form a very damn good shield wall. Not up to the level of group training the pikes wielded, but still well above the training of their fellows. Tywin should have realized that given the battle of Two Truths, but Ranma was happy to have given him another lesson in training overcoming numbers.

Another 400 or so had been reported so far as injured though that number would likely go up in the next few hours. Merry had already fallen back to the army's camp and was dealing with the worst of it.

Despite the massively one-sided victory Ranma stared bleakly out over the battlefield, seeing the windrows of dead bodies out there as the crows and other battlefield vultures flew out of the sky. Who was it in my old world who said that it was a good thing war was so terrible lest humanity become too fond of it? I think I understand that phrase better with every day this war lasts. Those crows out there are the only real winners here.

With a sigh he turned to House Wayn's field commander, a middle-aged knight named Ser Dormer. He had been rather sheepish and seemingly ashamed at the fact that his men had been forced to remain back at the base camp but he had come forward quickly as soon as the battle was won. "I want survivors," he said staring at the other man. "Anyone out there who has survived is to be taken into custody, any injured whose injury isn't life-threatening is to be transported to princess Myrcella's hospital. Otherwise, give them mercy."

"Mercy?" The older knight asked, looking confused.

"Yes mercy. If a man is dying from a gut wound, or has had his spine severed or lungs punctured, then yes, it is a mercy to kill them quickly." Ranma said bleakly.

As Dormer turned and raced off to his horse, Greatjon had pulled his own horse up beside Ranma in time to hear that and laughed harshly. "Don't know why you care so much about the soldiers of the enemy. Better to kill them all and have done with it."

"And after that none would ever surrender to us, or would ever give quarter to us in turn." Ranma said turning to him with a faint frown on his face. "You're not thinking Greatjon. Those men out there were simply following orders, or were simply forced into joining up. The armsmen swore to follow their Lords, can we fault them for that? No, I want justice, not vengeance. We'll give them a chance, which is more than they gave the smallfolk of the Riverlands, before making them stand trial. They will serve Westeros more in paying for their crimes than dying today."

Back in Fairmarket, Daenerys had ordered the injured that were staying there after that battle to speak to the refugees who had flooded the town to learn all they could about the atrocities committed on the other side of the Red Fork. Ranma hadn't seen anything from them before they left, but he was gravely certain that when Daryn linked up with them again they would have enough reports to start figuring out which Lords and their men were most involved in the depredations on the smallfolk.

He explained that to Greatjon and then stared hard at the older man. "Do not mistake my penchant for mercy for weakness, Greatjon. Tywin and his family will pay dearly for their men's actions here in the Riverlands, for their treason to the throne and for starting this damn war."

Greatjon stared into the younger man's eyes than laughed, thumping Ranma on the shoulder hard enough to send most men to their knees. Ranma merely took it, as solid as a boulder. "You Starks, no give in any of you! Hah! I understand your point lad, it's just not the way anyone else has ever made war."

"Hah, then that already puts me one up on all of our enemies." Ranma laughed then went on seriously. "Could I ask you for a favor my friend? I'd like you to pick out one of your best men and assign him to following Myrcella around. I know I can't stop her from working on the enemy injured taken to her hospital, but I want to make certain she's safe. I've already assigned one of my family's men to it, but another guard wouldn't go amiss."

Greatjon nodded understanding this was a sign of the Young Wolf's trust in him. It had been obvious for months that both Daenerys and Ranma treasured Myrcella, regardless of her family or status. He turned to bellow orders to one of his commanders, who raced off in search of a man Greatjon had thought of immediately. By this time all the other lords and their troops commanders had arrived, and Ranma motioned to where Cley was waiting along with a few other pages with several jugs of wine and mugs.

When they had all been served Ranma raised his glass in congratulations. "Well done." He said simply, nodding at them each in turn though he did not nod at those lords that had not taken part in the battle, letting that simple difference serve as a warning to them in the future that trying to waffle in their loyalty would be noted and would not be tolerated. These lords were Lord Roote and Lord Ryger, who had kept all of their men back from the battle even after the outcome was no longer in doubt, just like Lord Wayn had ordered his men to do.

Both men looked suitably chastened, though Ryger also looked proud when Ranma did nod at his sons. Both younger men had fought with the irregular infantry alongside Smalljon, and according to him did fairly well.

"You all fought and led your men well today, however one of you has done that time and time again over the last few weeks. Patrek Mallister, come forward." Ranma went on, smiling faintly as he drew Ice from it's sheathe, which Patrek had returned to him when Ranma had fallen back from the pike regiments.

Patrek did so, his arm in a sling. He winced occasionally, but looked game despite his wounds. "Your Grace?"

With a faint smile on her face Daenerys moved from where she had been controlling her dragons to stand with her husband, laying her hands on the hilt of Ice over his as she spoke. The two of them had talked about this in the days preceding the battle, and she wholeheartedly agreed with this. "Patrek Mallister, you have proven yourself an able warrior, a intelligent commander, a man of good heart and courage."

Ranma took over then, his eyes flashing with humor, even though his voice was still formal. "I ask you now in my name and the name of my wife Daenerys Targaryen, will you become the first of our River Blades?"

"Your majesties, I would be honored." Patrek said, going down on one knee, bowing his head.

Nearby Jason blinked and was about to object but Ranma turned to him, smirking slightly. "Don't worry Jason, he's still your heir, nothing in the oath's Patrek's going to take will offset that and when you call him home to take up his Lordship, or to marry, that's still up to you too. This is just a way for me to keep him close, and to train him as well."

In front of Ranma Patrek smiled staring at the ground of the tent. He'd seen what the Wolfsworn could do in battle and had learned that all of them had been trained by Ranma before this campaign. No, there was no downside to becoming the first of the River blades.

His father nodded, consoled and actually feeling proud now. To have his son be the first of the River Blades, the Riverlands equivalent of the Wolfsworn was a massive honor. The fact that it was also a shrewd political move was not lost on him either. It further tied his family to the new royal house like the creation of the Wolfsworn had, however indirectly, tied nearly the entirety of the North together.

Daenerys began the oaths this time, beginning them after she and Ranma laid the flat of Ice on the young Mallister shoulder. "Do you, Patrek Mallister, swear to uphold the law and customs of the land? To always be true to the crown, so long as it remains true to defending the people it is charged to protect?"

"I do." The young man replied, raising his head to stare into her violet eyes for a moment before looking over at Ranma.

"Will you defend the innocent and the weak against those who would oppress them? Will you both offer and keep our council, fight by our side in these troubled times and beyond, in the pursuit of fairness and the rule of law?" Ranma asked.

"I will." Patrek replied for the second time, his grey eyes now locked on Ranma's ocean blue ones.

"Will you show mercy to those who deserve it, generosity to those who need it, and bring justice down upon those who break the Crown's peace?" Daenerys asked.

"I will."

"Will you defend the realm against the forces of darkness and other dangers, both foreign and domestic?" Ranma said, once again taking up the string of oaths.

Patrek smiled grimly, shifting his wounded arm slightly then answered with the same words Ser Barristan had used to reply to that question. "I so swear to do."

"Then rise Patrek Mallister, River Blade!" Ranma and Daenerys intoned together, removing Ice from Patrek's uninjured shoulder.

With that everyone who understood the importance of this, congratulated Patrek who pushed himself to his feet and moved to one side of the tent taking up a small glass of wine from Cley. Daenerys and Ranma both noticed that Ryger however looked angry, while Shawney and Blanetree both looked wistful. We'll have to think of something for the older lords who don't have sons we can add to the River Blades in the future, Daenerys thought filing that away for now.

After a moment however Ranma turned back to more important matters. "The first stage of this campaign is over. Tywin's army is bleeding and lamed, and I doubt he even knows it yet."

"We should get after them now." Greatjon growled getting down to business. He understood Ranma's point about the treatment of their enemies, and in fact respected him more for it. If it got about that Ranma and Daenerys treated their enemies' men with such respect, or at least in such an evenhanded manner, it could only bolster his reputation. But he didn't understand why Ranma had called off the pursuit entirely.

The others agreed, especially Ser Blanetree, Brynden and most of the Riverlands lords and unit commanders. Yet those who stayed quiet is telling, Daenerys thought, amused. It seemed as if the Lords who had been with him during his game of lion baiting were all willing to follow his orders now without question.

"We could go after them now, and we might be able to catch them up, I'm not certain of that considering they actually number slightly less than us now, and will be going hell for leather. Portions of our army could certainly catch them up, but would those units have enough punch to finish them off?" Ranma said shaking his head. "Yet think about this my lords, what is the objective of this campaign? It isn't just to smash the Lannister's main army, or even kill Tywin. Indeed, killing Tywin in battle may well serve to make him a martyr, at least at this point."

"No, the main thrust of this campaign is to either force the Westerlanders out of the Riverlands entirely, or wipe out their army entirely. I've been told that he has several garrisons elsewhere on the south of the Red Fork, and a reserve force at the Kneeling Man's Ford. Those forces would still have to be dealt with, along with their allies."

"That may be, but certainly dealing with them would be much easier after the news of their main force being destroyed reaches them?" said Lord Roote, who knew one of those garrisons was in his town of Harroway.

"Not so, my Lord." Daenerys said shaking her head. "They would become desperate, and desperate men would lash out. The smallfolk on the other side of the Red Fork have suffered enough without the depredations that desperate men would foist upon them."

Ranma nodded towards her. "Exactly. We want Tywin to get back to the Kneeling Man's Ford, then have enough time to call in those men to rebuild his numbers before we attack him there. With the Wolfsworn attacking his supply lines and facing the threat of dragons attacking his camp, he might well surrender or even face a revolt among his men if we're lucky. If not, with the dragons we can burn his camp down around his ears before assaulting him over the Ford. Or he might be forced to retreat back to the Westerlands, which would allow us to try and pin him down at Wayfarer's Rest."

Many of the lords, particularly those who hadn't learned about Jon being sent off to take Wayfarer's Rest looked surprised at that before being filled in by their fellows. Most of their Riverlands lords still looked skeptical, but Shawney and Patrek did not, having seen what the wolfsworn could do.

"By the way, how bad is it on the other side of the Red Fork? I haven't seen any reports about that since we left Fairmarket, and those were mostly rumors." To one side Alayaya and Domeric stood. They looked at one another while Lord Roote and the others looked concerned. "How bad is it?" Ranma asked again.

"In certain areas your highness it's very bad," answered Ser Blanetree bluntly. "Not as bad as it could have been, at least in some areas, those whose lords bent the knee, but very bad in others. They've ravaged the land in some areas, wiped out entire villages, settlements, farmsteads, even towns. Mummer's Ford is gone, though Lord Piper evacuated most of its inhabitants into Pinkmaiden and has kept them there since."

Ranma hummed thoughtfully. He'd heard that Piper had capitulated, but if they'd done that, there was obviously more to that story that hadn't crossed the Red Fork. That was good, the rest of what he was hearing that was very bad indeed especially with winter coming. That made it more imperative than ever that he force the Lannister forces or at least large portions of them to surrender rather than be destroyed. He'd need the manpower in the fields, let alone the other projects that could possibly spell the difference between life and death for thousands.

"Lord Blackwood probably did the same thing on his land, though I doubt the land itself will be in any condition to be worked for months. House Smallwood and its lands were ravaged, and the land around the River Road between Harroway and the Kneeling Man's Ford especially has faced extreme depredation." Lord Roote actually smiled a little as he shared this information, but the rest of his face began to try to run away from it when faced with the icy stare Ranma pierced him with.

Daenerys took his hand in hers for a moment, squeezing. Ranma squeezed back then looked around at the gathered lords and unit commanders. "We have a lot of decisions to make my lords, and we need this army ready to move soon regardless. Please see to the disposition of the army, then return here this evening. We'll have decided our next move then. For now, I'm going to go and see the wounded."

OOOOOOO

Even before Ranma and his men arrived Daenerys had followed the policy Ranma had sent in creating camps for his army, which included necessities such as having a designated food preparation area well away from the latrines which were in turn away from the rest of the camp, and of course a hospital area. This was now controlled by Merry, and she had made certain it was ready for the influx of injured from the battle.

To aid her Merry had helpers, over fifty of them now, though only seven were trained. She also had another maesters healer, who had apparently been in the town Salt Pans before coming west to do what he could for the Riverlands army that had set up camp on the other side of the Ruby Ford. Only a few hours after the battle the two of them had saved dozens of lives.

But in the hours to come, as more Westerlanders were brought in, that number would pale to the number of lives that they couldn't save. The amount of people Merry and her helpers had to turn away after seeing their wounds numbered in the hundreds. Worse were the men who would be crippled for life, having lost limbs, hands or a combination of both. Pikes caused horrendous wounds, and the broadswords favored by many of the Northerners were even worse.

"Myrcella, how is it going, are you good for supplies?" Daenerys said, entering the tent that Myrcella was in currently from behind her.

Myrcella turned to look at her, nodding her head politely at the older girl. Woman dummy she thought to herself, still wondering when exactly that changeover happened. "For now, we are," Myrcella she replied before turning back to her work, finishing up the stitching on the side of a northern soldier's arm. "The number of injured we're taking in from the opposing army's survivors is going to put a major dent in them before the days done though."

The Targaryen queen frowned but nodded. Most other lords would've immediately told Myrcella to stop using valuable supplies on enemy soldiers, but Ranma and Daenerys had long talks about that in the past. Daenerys agreed with Ranma that the common-born soldiers should only be blamed for the acts they committed off the battlefield rather than on it. Besides, they'd need the manpower.

Myrcella went on, not following Daenerys's thoughts but her own. "Luckily the numbers of our own wounded is much lighter than we expected. I think we're only going to lose four of the wounded that we're currently treating, and our side's injured have already stopped coming in." Since it was barely afternoon and the battle had begun in the morning that was actually pretty damned good.

"You're not going to work yourself into collapse are you?" Daenerys asked.

"I'll try not to." Merry replied, not looking at her as she moved on to her next patient, one of the first Westerlander men to be brought in. He had taken an arrow to his shoulder and another to his thigh. Swiftly Myrcella went to work, cutting out the remains of the arrows that had been let in so as to not make the bleeding worsen then quickly stitched the wounds closed, making certain to use fire wine to clean the wound on his thigh thoroughly as well as on his shoulder after first was finished.

The man looked at Myrcella in shock as she patted his good shoulder before moving off to help one of her aides with a man who had taken a wound to his head. The armsmen she had left of course knew who the young girl had to be, he'd heard her name and the looks would've given it away in any case. But why in the world would Myrcella Baratheon be working as a healer? And how'd such a young girl become so good at it? He would not be the first prisoner to ask that question.

Ranma came into the tent at that point, nodding politely at the guards who were following Myrcella along. They both nodded back and Ranma took a moment to take in their appearances. Greatjon certainly found exactly the sort of soldier I wanted. He thought to himself, chuckling evilly inside at the idea of anyone running into either of these men.

The man Ranma had chosen to watch Myrcella as she went about her work was almost large enough to pass for one of the Umber men, though he wasn't as broad across the shoulders. He was an older man whose hair had streaks of gray in it and whose face looked as if it had been used as a punching bag in the distant past then cut up some more. His name was Grege Stenren, and he had served among the armsmen of Winterfell for longer than Ranma could remember.

He was also known to dote on his four children, two sets of twins two boys and two girls and was equally known for being wrapped around his wife's little finger. Appearances can be deceiving.

The man Greatjon had chosen was actually a little below normal height, but he moved lightly on his feet, almost like one of the Wolfsworn though not quite with that mix of unstoppable confidence and gracefulness that marked them. He also had about a dozen knives scattered around his person, and a wicked scar running from right above one eye down over his nose which finished right above his mouth. It changed what could have been a darkly handsome face into one to make grown men afraid. The fact that his eyes looked permanently slitted added to the effect.

His name was Eric Proudthenn. In times of peace he served House Umber as one of their chief thief-taker and one of the family's best scouts in times of war. He'd fought to put down the rebellion of one of the former minor house that had looked to House Bolton, which was where he got that scar from. In his case looks were not deceiving: he was every bit as dangerous, and some would say plain mean, as Grege was not. He did however have a soft spot for animals, particularly foxes for some reason.

Turning from his appraisal of the two guards Ranma put his arm around Merry's shoulder. "Do you have everything you need Merry?"

Myrcella smiled up at him wanly. "Can you make me have another few thousand hands? Or better yet, train me to sleep standing up and get a full hours rest in a few minutes? Otherwise yes, I've got all I can truly ask for."

"Sorry Merry," Ranma said laughing ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'm not a miracle worker, I can teach you some mental exercises I suppose that could help your tiredness, but they'd take weeks to master, and I'm not even going to comment on the thousands hands thing."

"Best not to bother with it then." Myrcella said moving quickly to another one of her helpers who had just brought in another Westerlander armsmen on a stretcher with the aid of a House Wayn armsmen. This prisoner actually wore the colors of her family. Currently he was looking at her in shock and then from her to Ranma in confusion. Hostages, even 'honored guests' should not be talked to like they were friends like that, and certainly shouldn't be working as a healer around so many men! But the northern dog didn't seem to understand that. And the Princess didn't look as if she cared about it either.

To say that man and the rest of the Westerlands armsmen in the tent, were confused was an understatement. This was made even worse by the fact that there were two guards on the tent door, and their job was not to guard the Princess like the two decidedly evil looking men who were following her around inside of the tent. No, they were expressly out there to protect the Westerlands armsmen from their enemies, in case some of them took it in into their heads to get some revenge.

Such kindness to enemy soldiers was unheard of in Westeros, and the less said about the fate of captured troops in Essos the better, where slavery was the bedrock of the economy. Yet these same men had seen their lords go down, their plate armor unable to stop crossbow quarrels at close range, and the Northerners had fought a ruthless, brutal battle. The disparity between that and the way they were currently being treated was shocking. To say nothing of the girl who looked like a Targaryen.

"Remember after you've healed them they'll have to be separated back into their original units Myrcella. I want to keep the different forces of the various families and houses separate. It'll make it easier to pass judgment on them later on."

Myrcella nodded, and Ranma tapped her shoulder one last time before turning to go. "I'm going to do around and talk to the wounded for a bit, then I have something else I need to do. Will you stay here Daenerys?"

Daenerys nodded, rolling up the sleeves of her simple cotton shirt and looking over at Myrcella. "I'll do what I can here for a bit."

Again that shocked the Westerlanders. Leaders caring about the wounded like that? Actually going around and talking to them? Or, even stranger, pitching in to help actually heal the wounded?

"What is up with these Northerners!" one of them finally blurted aloud. "Don't they know of what war is?"

Another Westerlander answered him. He was a younger man who didn't wear any armor, showing that he'd probably been a conscript, but one who looked as if he came from a slightly better off family than most. "Talk to me about the mountains of dead they left out there on the field, or about the number of lords I personally saw go down when those pikes began to advance. I think they know a new meaning of the word."

OOOOOOO

Ranma did indeed go around talking to the wounded, thanking the men for their courage, loyalty and sacrifice, bolstering morale to an even higher degree after the momentous victory. He also mentally thanked the Riverlanders for providing the tents they were currently using for the hospital area. They were much large than the ones assigned to his men, made for six men instead of the three or four of the northern tents. That made them much better suited to protecting the wounded from the vagaries of weather, which was going to be needed, considering that the sky was darkening with storm clouds.

Looking up at the sky Ranma shrugged philosophically. They had gotten incredibly lucky up to this point in terms of weather, only being snowed on once in the North very briefly, and then rained on once more on the march to Seagard. Besides isn't rain becoming more frequent a sign of autumn? Think I read that somewhere.

Soon Ranma left the hospital area moving through the army camp and exchanging shouts and greetings with many a man as he did. The Northerners were to a man jubilant about their victory, even the men who hadn't taken part like the majority of those he had been leading in the weeks prior to it in Baiting the Lion (which in years to come would become the formal name for that aspect of the War of Reformation). After the days it took Tywin to gather his army most of those men had rested enough to take part, but Ranma had still held them back from the majority of the fighting letting the Riverlanders and the rest of the Army win their spurs.

He also noticed that the pikemen were marching about with their heads held high, not arrogant, but definitely more certain about themselves than they had been prior to that battle. Only the 600 pikes from House Manderly had been bloodied before this, and it had come as a shock to them all to see how well their training and their discipline withstood the punishment of battle.

Ranma also noticed that Patrek and the others had released some of the army's alcohol supply to the men and frowned at that, but when he stopped to talk to Rickard Karstark who was the first Lord he saw as he moved through the camp, discovered that they had only allowed each man a single tankard, though they could eat all they wanted. "Good!" said Ranma nodding his head firmly. "If we have to move out quickly, I want the army ready to do so, not drunk off their asses."

Rickard laughed, shaking his head as he looked at Ranma, proud to be related however distantly to the man had won some of the most one sided victories in Westeros' history. "No worries there. But you think will be moving on quickly?" Most of the lords were wondering why they hadn't already pursued the Westerlanders. Yes the reasons Ranma gave them earlier were good, and no one was going to underestimate Tywin or his ability to surprise them, but they should've still pursued them with more than a few units of light cavalry to harry his sides and back.

He wouldn't say that out loud though. Ranma had more than earned his respect in the weeks leading up to this battle, and watching the entire strategy unfold had been amazing. Still, it was odd they had immediately pursued Tywin.

"Don't you find it odd uncle," Ranma said as if not hearing his unspoken question, almost seeming to change the subject. "That you don't see Wendel or many of his knights here? Or for that matter, Meera?"

Rickard thought for a moment then frowned as he realized he hadn't seen the Manderly representative in the meeting earlier, or even before that. In fact, now that he came to think about it, he hadn't seen Wendel, some of House Manderly's knights or very many of the few remaining clansmen today.

"I sent him slightly up river in the barges with orders to attack the Lannister encampment during the battle, and should be back this evening if everything went well. I sent him to do whatever damage he could to the Westerlands camp before pulling back."

"I see, yet…" Rickard shrugged

Ranma nodded. "Yes, yet, it isn't quite enough. I'm waiting for word of what is going on elsewhere to get to me before I decide our course from now on. After that we'll decide what else to do."

The older man cocked his head quizzically wondering how Ranma already seemed to have spies elsewhere in the Riverlands, since he hadn't seen Alayaya or Domeric contacting any such. But after a moment Rickard shrugged and the two men went their separate ways.

Ranma was soon the outskirts of the camp, moving out and away from the battlefield. There were several captured soldiers whose wounds were not life-threatening had been forced to work on aiding the House Wayn men, who, now that the battlefield had been scoured for wounded, had been put to work on burning the thousands of dead. Their faces showed how humiliated they were by this work, but Ranma merely thought it fitting: if they weren't willing to actually join the battle, the least they could do was clean up afterwards.

Another five minutes brisk walk brought Ranma well away from even those men, where he was joined by Fenris coming out of the scrub around him. Just then it began to rain, and both human and animal sighed, or seemed to sigh in Fenris' case. Ranma patted the giant direwolf on his shoulder, shrugging his shoulders. "Come on, the sooner we do this the sooner we can both find a nice warm tent."

The two of them kept moving until they were well away from the army. Crossing over a small previously dry riverbed that was already beginning to fill up with water from the storm, they hid themselves in a small copse. There Ranma sat down leaning against an oak as he stared at Fenris, who sat on his haunches in front of them. After a moment Ranma closed his eyes, concentrating on their connection and Fenris began to howl.

This part of the campaign was something only Daenerys, Jon and Arya had been told about. Jon had realized that if the direwolves could take over local wolf packs and get them to obey them for short amounts of time, then howls could be used for long distance communication between direwolves. Wolves relayed a lot of information to one another, even between packs, so it made sense that direwolves, being more intelligent, could take this to another level.

The problem came in the human mind's ability to understand the information transmitted. Wolves didn't think in terms of patterns, numbers, travel times, those things that humans routinely thought of when they were passing on information. Wolves thought in terms of terrain, sights and most importantly, sounds and smells. The senses of a direwolf in particular the sense of smell and hearing were simply beyond anything a human could truly grasp.

However, certain information could be passed along such as if the pack was doing well, and where they were at that moment. And sound carried. A wolf could make itself heard for leagues around to other wolves, and then have that howl passed on through the local wolf packs faster than any human communication could go. Direwolves could be heard even further away.

Back in the camp, all of the horses began to look skittish for a moment, while many a man of the Riverlands prayed to the Seven at the sudden, terrifying howl from the woodlands. Sunfyre and Rhaegon both raised their heads from their daily meal, staring off in the distance before going back to more important things while their mistress, still busy helping Merry, smirked. The sound even carried to where Tywin was trying to gather the remnants of his armies supplies. He lost several more men after their horses bolted when a few local packs began to answer the supreme alpha's call.

A few hours later that howl reached Stone Hedge, and Nymeria answered it, howling out in a somewhat lighter timbre than her brother. Next to her Arya placed her arms around the direwolf's mighty neck, their mental connection wide open as Arya tried to send to her brother the news that they had taken Stone Hedge. All she was able to do was send, large man-thing, stone-thing, large, important and finally an image of a bush, specifically an example of a bracken bush, and then again stone-thing!

Back with Fenris Ranma blinked in shock, nearly falling out of their mind meld. Stone Hedge?! Dacey took Stone Hedge! That is… he paused and thought for a moment that's actually some of the best news I've heard ever! But it does mean I need to change my thinking for this campaign. After that he delved once more into the howl as it continued on its way, getting passed on by Nymeria to the local wolf packs around her and eventually down to Jon and Ghost.

Ghost couldn't even pass on that much information, all of the human ideas were very difficult to pass on through normal wolves and each pack in the relay made it that much harder. All Ranma got from him and Jon was a sense of being precisely where he was supposed to be, and a sense that they were fully capable of defending their current den but had not been challenged yet. That was enough for Ranma however, and he began to slowly pull out of his meld with Fenris while the giant direwolf passed on his own information.

This changes everything, Ranma thought to himself after he pulled out of Fenris' mind entirely. One hand began to scratch his direwolf's ears absentmindedly while his mind was engaged in thinking about how Dacey and Arya's news effected his plans going forward.

Initially Ranma's plan had been to follow Tywin on his heels, nipping at his army to keep him from trying to reform and retake the offensive, then let Tywin get to the Kneeling Man ford as if his own army couldn't quite catch up. Then he'd let the man call in the rest of his forces, give the Westerlanders enough time to bring them all together and then realize how bad their supply situation was. Then if necessary he'd send the dragons across to destroy every piece of siege weaponry and anything else they could in those massive fieldworks, forcing the army to surrender.

And if they didn't, storming across would be much easier if their camp was on fire, their siege weapons gone, and the army starving. Even a week at half rations could tremendously effect the ability of a soldier to fight a well-rested, well fed enemy, and by that point many of the Lannisters would have been dealing with worse than that for several weeks. This didn't even consider the lack of other supplies and their general morale.

But with Stone Hedge taken, their supply situation isn't going to be bad, it's going to be horrible and obvious quickly. The reserves that were kept back at the Kneeling Man's Ford were almost certainly going to start attacking Stone Hedge to get to those supplies soon enough. And with Wayfarer's Rest also taken, there would be no reprieve from the lack of supplies. Couple that with the depredations they've already afflicted on the smallfolk around that area, they can't live off the land at all! But Tywin will realize that immediately.

If he learns Wayfarer's Rest was taken Tywin's smart enough to know what would happen if we caught up to his army at the pass. They could still retreat to the east however. I can't let them get to Harrenhal, that castle could safely house Tywin's entire remaining army, and they could strip the lands leading to it plus Harroway of supplies. I'd be forced to leave at least two thirds of my own army to keep them there or try and burn them out, and the dragons' fire isn't hot enough yet to attack stone.

No, instead… instead I think I'm going to have to keep the momentum but shift my attention to attacking from another oblique approach…. With that thought Ranma pulled out a map of the Riverlands from one of his jerkin's pockets, holding it up to the dim light as he thought hard. After moment marking off distances, he smiled thinly. Then got up, looking at Fenris. "I think you've earned the right to go hunt my friend, I'll see you back at camp when you're done."

Fenris nudged his nose into Ranma's shoulder, then bounded off into the distance. He couldn't smell any bears around, this wasn't the territory for them, but he'd seen signs of one of those little wild-cat creatures, the ones with the tufts on their ears. Those made good eating, not as good as bear but nothing was, but as good as deer in Fenris' opinion. Behind him Ranma had still retained enough of their connection to get a sense of his bonded direwolf's plans for dinner, and he laughed shaking his head before heading back to his army's encampment.

That evening at Ranma's behest the commanders of the army joined him in his tent. It was only the lords however, not their unit commanders since Ranma's tent couldn't house all of the unit commanders and the lords. Given the fact it was pouring down rain now, that was not a small consideration.

After letting the lords have a few moments to dry themselves via a small brazier set in the center of the tent, Ranma began. "News has reached me of the success of Jon's assault. He has taken Wayfarer's Rest, and is waiting there, ready to defend the castle from any kind of reprisal. Moreover, Dacey and her assaults on the nearby supply lines have been even more successful than we expected."

As the Lords looked at him some wondered how he had gotten that information. Others were simply waiting for him to expound on that point. Smiling, Ranma did so. "Dacey Mormont has taken Stone Hedge."

A shock went through every man there. None of the Riverlands Lords had been looking forward to that particular fight, or worse the discussion of amnesty for House Bracken. Most of them had actually liked Lord Bracken before this war began, but his deciding to use the war to settle his differences with Blackwood had changed that. Yet this hadn't blinded them to the fact that Stone Hedge was one of the best castles in the Riverlands. Besieging it would take years or lots of lives since Bracken wasn't stupid enough to fall for any of the tricks Ranma had shown them thus far. Ranma and the Northerners hadn't been so concerned about it of course, for various reasons.

More importantly the news that Stone Hedge and the lands around it was a supply hub for the Lannisters had spread, and every lord there knew how important that was. Brynden in particular laughed. "Damn me, the lions really are in a bad way up for supplies aren't they?"

Ranma nodded. "However, let's put that aside for now. Has anyone here heard of from the town of Saltpans and what's going on there?"

All of the Riverlands lords looked at one another shaking their heads. "Nay my Lord, neither House Hawick or Cox have been heard of since the start of hostilities." Said Ser Shawney.

"To my mind that means they chose opposing sides, and have together decided to not take part in the war. I'd bet Ser Cox has chosen the Lannisters, he has a large brood and not enough land to give them all, money would appeal to him. House Hawick's last lord was close with Lord Tully, so the new one will no doubt have decided to work against the Lannisters or at least remain neutral." Lord Ryger said authoritatively.

That seemed to be his default tone, Ranma noted. He was one of those people who thought he was an expert at everything. Still, what he said made sense. "When we get to the Trident we'll need to send someone down there with a large enough force to face anything that could be there. I don't want us to be blindsided by another House joining the Lannisters and attacking our own supply lines from behind or retaking Harroway after we take it back ourselves."

Lord Roote stiffened at that and leaned forward while the other lords looked surprised. "You mean to march on Harroway rather than chase after Tywin?" said Greatjon doubtfully. "I won't call you a fool led but…"

Ranma laughed. "I think we can do both Greatjon! Uncle Brynden," he said, turning to the older man. "You'll be in command of that force. How many men do you think you'll need to make Tywin think that the entire army is chasing after him?"

Brynden thought for a moment then shrugged. "Light cavalry would be best for that kind of thing, with heavy cavalry following up along with a force of archers, and scouts of course. Two thousand two-hundred or so all told should be enough. Do you want us to start off immediately?"

"As soon as this meeting ends, you'll get the pick of the men you want. Harass them, make your numbers seem much larger than they but more importantly make certain that Tywin keeps on falling back to the ford. I want him in those magnificent defenses he's made and nowhere else, but not quickly." Ranma said, nodding. "Who would you like as your second?"

Brynden looked over at the other lords for a moment then said "Lord Shawney, would you lend your aide to this endeavor?"

Silas Shawney grinned. "Delighted to, my Lord Tully." he replied, bowing his head.

"What are the rest of us going to be doing then lad?" said Greatjon.

"We'll leave our injured here, along with a small force to aid House Wayn in guarding them just in case the prisoners become unruly. I'll take the rest of the army down the Kingsroad to Harroway and beyond with my queen and her dragons aiding us in a campaign that will be based just as much on terror as reality." Everyone save Daenerys looked shocked at that and Ranma smiled grimly. "The time for guile is past, now a show of force will serve us better, even if we don't intend to use them against the town in question."

"We should also think of sending a messenger into the Vale," Daenerys said. Everyone in the tent turned to her including Ranma, one of his eyebrows rising in surprise. Daenerys shrugged her shoulders. "You said it yourself Ranma, we don't want to be attacked from behind. While the Vale might not be able to field a large army, they can field a decently sized and trained one, which could have an effect much larger than their size."

"If I may my Lords." said Lord Ryger, speaking up once more. "Willow Wood is the closest keep to where the Vale Road intersects the Kingsroad, and I heard rumors long before the Lannisters came east about the mountain clans in the mountains of the Vale acting out now that the nation doesn't have any real leadership. It's quite possible that whatever our messenger does he could be intercepted by them before he reaches the Bloody Gate. However, if we take the Trident and Harroway, we can send a messenger by boat down to Gulltown."

"That's an excellent idea." said Jason, nodding his head. "Gulltown is held by House Grafton, which is one of the more powerful Vale houses, and House Royce is nearby, which is the house I'd send my message too. Not Lysa."

Ranma frowned. "I'd like to trust that my aunt would receive any message we send well enough, but…" he turned to Brynden again. "Great uncle, what do you think?"

"Unless she's recovered from her paranoia Lysa won't even see your messenger." Brynden replied after a moments contemplation, looking saddened at the thought of his niece's descent into paranoid madness. "I agree with Greatjon, House Royce is our best bet. Yohn is the most battle-hardened of the Vale lords, and among the most honorable. Moreover he was friendly with Eddard when they were younger."

"And a few of the others like House Elesham and Pryor my Lord," Daenerys said smiling thinly. "If the men of the Three Sisters were willing to try and raid commerce coming out of White Harbor, I have no doubt that those Houses also felt the depredations."

Ranma nodded thoughtfully. "We should lay out what we wish to say to them, lay out the reasoning behind this war from our perspective as well as the fact that Joffrey is illegitimate and the proof of that, emphasizing the reason we annexed the Three Sisters. We can't command them to join us, or even entreat them to do so. The first would seem to be high-handed especially after we've already assaulted the Vale's general dignity and the second would seem too needy. Besides, it would take weeks to work their troops into the army's organization, and I'd have to teach them all discipline as well as my rules about camp management and camp followers. So long as they stay neutral toward as I don't care what they do. After the war the Vale will need to be brought to order, anarchy like that in a neighbor is not good for anyone, but for now we can ignore it."

"What we cannot ignore is the coming of winter." Ranma went on, looking at Vincent. Save the Mallisters the other Riverlands lords all rolled their eyes, but Ranma simply smiled grimly. "Autumn has been declared my lords, if the weather was not enough to tell you. I am not simply paraphrasing my family's lines my lords, we need to prepare our lands for winter. To that end we've already begun projects to aid in transport, and we will continue to do so using the prisoners to do it. To that end Vincent, I'd like to employ that mind of yours elsewhere. My wife, Lord Mallister and Smalljon have all said how impressed they were with your work on the fortification at the Ruby Ford, I'd like to see if you are just as good at more peaceful projects. Specifically, I'd like you to look into the idea of creating the equivalent of the glass garden of Winterfell somewhere here in the Riverlands."

Ranma explained what those were, emphasizing the importance of having the equivalent of a farm that you could rely on even in the dead of winter. Vincent looked skeptical, but Ranma could tell his mind was already working on the issue, shown when Vincent murmured "Water would of course not be an issue here in the Riverlands, heating it would be, unless we put it somewhere like the Hag's Mire, which would have other issues. Someplace with a nearby source of coal or wood will be necessary…"

"Like Riverrun?" Brynden asked.

"Possibly," Vincent answered almost absentmindedly, reaching into one of his jerkin's many pockets and pulling out a peace of parchment and a small stick of charcoal. "Or possibly one of the towns along the Red Fork. It would be the easiest river to divert some of the water into a small pool, which could then be warmed. Or, no, perhaps a better idea would be to…" He was silent for a moment but then looked up at Ranma. "You realize this is going to take time and money?"

"Time is an issue, money is not." Ranma replied, smiling thinly. "By the end of this war the reparations from the Westerlands alone will pay for most of the royal projects I'm seeing in the future."

Vincent nodded, going back to his plans.

The rest of that evening was taken up with organizing the different forces preparing them to march and bringing up more supplies from beyond the Ruby Ford for the army. These supplies were mostly in the form of weapons and emergency repair items for kit, and some more food of course. This was hampered by the ongoing storm, which showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

While the others went about their own duties Myrcella continued her work in the hospital and Smalljon organized the guard detail. It turned out that more prisoners had been rounded up directly after the battle by the light cavalry who had been harrying Lord Tywin's army than the wounded that could be saved. Pikes and greatswords really did cause horrific wounds. All told there were only about 1,200 prisoners, only a fifth of whom were injured in some manner, many seriously. How many men had to be given mercy by Lord Wayn's troops was an unknown.

The preparation for the army's march caused some grumbling since many of the men had been looking forward to looting the bodies of the dead. However Ranma had known that was a possibility, and had ordered the House Wayn men on burning detail to go through the bodies and collect everything putting it all in a single pile, which would be distributed evenly among the men. And with the returned Wendel and his knights all watching them, they actually obeyed that command.

"Not," he confided to Daenerys, "That there's anything really the men can spend it on just yet. But eventually we may be in Riverrun or another city, then they'll like to have that cash to spend as distasteful as the exercises may."

That plus the rain kept most of the men from grumbling and those that did grumble too loudly were ordered to join the burning detail, a thankless task given the weather. That work would continue even after the main army left. Daenerys might not have been able to talk Lord Wayn into allowing his men to be used in actual battles, but she and Ranma had shamed them into aiding in the aftermath.

The next day it continued to rain but that did not dissuade Ranma, and he and his army marched up back over the Ruby Ford and towards the Kingsroad within an hour of sunup. Above them Sunfyre and Rhaegon, once again let out to fly whenever they wished gleefully flew through the rain, enjoying the feel of it on their scales.

OOOOOOO

That night Daenerys was woken up in the tent she shared with Merry and Alayaya by quiet sobbing. She blinked, raising her head to stare at Myrcella's cot, the two dragons sleeping soundly at their feet. Alayaya would normally have been on a third cot, but she and Domeric were supposedly taking the tenor of the army after Ranma's plans going forward were announced. Daenerys had her doubts about that, she was honestly wondering if Alayaya had moved on from Smalljon to Domeric, but wasn't going to inquire. At the moment she had something else to question. "Merry? Why are you crying, dear?"

"O-oh, I'm sorry I woke you up, Daenerys. It's, it's silly I know, after all the battles and the many times I've dealt with injured before, but after today…I, had a nightmare." Merry said, wiping her tears away from the back of her hand.

"Nightmares?"

"A-about not being able to help treat them. Sometimes in my dreams the men I've helped treat come back, their wounds reopened, and they, they accuse me of not being able to help."

Daenerys sighed faintly. Given her abilities with organizing and leading the army's healers It was often hard to remember that Myrcella Baratheon was barely thirteen. Moments like this brought that strongly to mind. Only a child would castigate herself for not being perfect, she thought, not realizing how hypocritical that was given certain thoughts she had about both the campaign thus far and especially the fact she'd been forced to leave the third dragon egg behind.

"I have nightmares too you know." She blurted out then wondered why she had admitted to that, something that only Ranma had known before.

"About your brother?" Merry asked shrewdly, sitting up in her cot to look over at Daenerys.

"How did, I, yes. I fear what would happen to the realm and to me if he defeats us." Daenerys replied, shaking her head at how well Merry knew her.

Merry laughed wanly. "It will never happen if he attacks Westeros, Ranma and you are going to beat him like a drum, and you know it. I bet it's only when you're asleep that such thoughts can enter your brain."

"I could say the same to you." The older girl replied tartly. "No one else in the army could do a better job than you at commanding the healers Merry. No maester of septon schooled in healing can save everyone."

"Knowing that doesn't help." Merry said quietly.

Daenerys sighed. "No, I don't suppose it would." She sighed again, then lifted up her blanket. "Come here girl." Merry gaped at her, and Daenerys chuckled. "I've found that being held keeps the nightmares at bay."

Hesitantly Merry pushed herself out of her cot, and moved to join Daenerys in hers. The two girls put their arms around one another as Merry snuggled into Daenerys shoulder, and the older girl smiled faintly, before the two of them fell asleep.

OOOOOOO

The Westerlands army had been able to break off thanks to a forced march fueled by fear and desperation. Portions of the northern army were still pursuing them closely however, and Tywin knew that he could not afford another open field battle. Those pikes were deadly, though Tywin knew it wasn't the weapons used that made such an impact. No, it was the organization, the training of the pikes that made them so deadly. That, and their armor, which was a better quality than most lords could afford for their cavalry, let alone infantry.

The shock of the pikes and their effect on his men's morale had been grim beyond anything he could have imagined. His army had gone into that battle fully expecting to win if not easily then at least decisively, and now they were on the retreat, smashed not by an army of superior numbers but by the tactics and training of their enemies which was somehow worse to the common armsmen.

A day after the battle Tywin had finally been able to ascertain the depth of their losses, which had been appalling. Up until this point in the campaign Lord Tywin had lost possibly two to three thousand men give or take, with the majority lost with Lord Plumm's night attack. In this single battle that loss had quadrupled, leaving him with a bare 10000 men. This gave the combined Northern and Riverlands forces numerical superiority for the first time.

Worse was the makeup of those losses. His supply of archers and heavy cavalry had been mauled even more than the numbers suggested, and the equivalent could not be said of the other side. And then there was the sauce on the steak, the spoiling attack on his army's camp that had occurred during the battle, and the losses among the Westerlands lords and heirs with the army.

The first shouldn't have been a surprise, Tywin had left behind two hundred good men to guard the camp, but they had not been up to stopping a force of heavy cavalry intent on burning every tent, cart and supply cache they could. In this, his losses actually aided him, because the food left would be able to feed his army for a time, before they were forced to slow down and forage, which would be disastrous if the northern army was still pursuing them. Luckily the spoiling raid hadn't cost his army any of their spare horses, so for now at least they would be able to move relatively quickly.

Even so organizing the men was incredibly hard because of the second surprise the Young Wolf had sprung on them, in battle assassination of enemy lords, heirs, and knights. It was an unprecedented move, since normally in war those men would have been valuable prisoners for the ransom they could bring. But Ranma Stark apparently didn't care about that.

Too many lords and heirs, who made up his commanders, and staring at his ragged army as it moved around him Tywin once more cursed the need of lords to be part of the charge rather than lead from behind as was sensible. Because of that and the Stark's pup's tactics, dozens of Houses no longer had their lords or heirs, and the future of four was actually in doubt.

House Algood, Dogget, Myatt, Drox were those with their future in doubt. Lord Drox had no heir or even close family member before this, he had been a young man eager to prove himself, but who had died in this battle. Algood and Dogget were notorious for not having many branches from the main line, and they had paid for that now. House Myatt on the other hand had simply been slaughtered, their lord, heir, several cousins and all their men had been at the front of the battle, eager to win their somewhat weak House glory. Now they were dead, but at least the former lord Myatt had two daughters still alive back in their keep, as well as their mother.

The others, their lands would be taken over by one of their neighbors something Tywin would need to deal with after this war was over. A little voice in the back of his head murmured, If you survive it… but Tywin ignored it to concentrate on the list of the dead.

House Bettley lost his lord, as had Estren, a man who had impressed Tywin since this war began with his common sense, a thing, despite its name, which was as uncommon as gold in his opinion. Lord Andros Brax, one of Tywin's most important bannermen, was also dead, as well as his second son. Tytos Brax had been left back in their keep to rule in his father's stead, which would mean they would recover soon. House Broom had lost its heir and third son. Lord Broom himself had survived the battle despite taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder, yet he had retreated to his tent inconsolable from his son's deaths. Still, the family would recover in time.

House Crakehall had lost two cousins and the Strongboar, Lyle, the secondson of Lord Crakehall. Their men too, had nearly been wiped out to a man. Luckily those armsmen, sixty strong, were a bare pittance of that powerful house's total. Since Crakehall was the lynchpin for the southern borders of the Westerlands they had been allowed to keep most of their men at home when Tywin had been mustering the Westerlands hosts.

House Foote had lost its lord, and two cousins of the family but Tywin knew they had retained some men at home and their heir, though a boy, was rumored to be bright enough. Antario Jast had died along with his squire and most of his men, but his heir was at home. Lord Sarwyck, another young man had also died trying to be a warrior, Westerling, Turnberry and Yarwyk had all lost their heirs who had been sent with the army instead of their lords, most of the Knightly Houses had been gutted save for those knights who had been placed in charge of the various holding forces Tywin had station in the various castles on the other side of the Red Fork.

Daven however had not been in the front line of the battle, which was a blessing, though his father had as well of course. The two of them and the few remaining lords and heirs had helped Tywin organize the army despite their own shock at their losses. But now they had to get back to the Kneeling Man's Ford with an enemy army nipping at their heels. That wasn't going to be easy now that the Young Wolf had the taste of blood in his mouth, as evidenced by a cavalry man riding his horse towards Tywin even now from the back of the column.

OOOOOOO

Castle Oldflowers is a smallish Castle, yet seems well made for all that. Margaery mused as she and her escort rode through the outer gate. She could already see the servants of the keep lined up the small courtyard to receive her, and she smiled, pleased that they were prepared as they should be.

Beside her Ser Igon Vyrwel, the captain of Highgarden's guard rode on his horse his carriage that of a much younger man. His demand to go with her had been a surprise, but a good one. While initially Margaery had dismissed him somewhat since he had never served in a war, he was well versed with the rules of setting up a camp and leading a march. He also knew how to defend castles and he was a welcome companion in his own right. The two of them had shared tales of her brothers and her father throughout the trip, having a good deal of fun.

About an hour after their arrival Margaery was being shown around, and smiled at what she saw on this side of the walls as well. The outer wall of the keep was about four stories tall, and the keep itself was another two stories taller than that. The keep itself was situated with its back side facing the Mander and the top of it was more than wide enough for six scorpions on rotating plates set along that wall, with enough room for hundreds of archers scattered in between. One outer wall continued northward of the keep for about 100 yards, before turning inland at a small tower to intersect the wall that came out from the keep heading away from the river at the gatehouse.

All in all Margaery was happy about the defenses here, though they had been undermanned before her arrival. "You certainly kept up the castle well in your lord's absence Ser Shermer. I trust you are able to accommodate my men?"

"Of course milady." Eliphas Shermer, the majordomo of the castle said nodding his head. He was a youngish man, about her brother Garlan's age but much more weedy than any of her siblings. But Eliphas wasn't castellan of this castle for no reason, he was an excellent organizer, and had a gift for numbers that was incredible. He had even been sent to the Citadel at one point, before his older brother died in a riding accident, leaving only one more brother between him and the lordship. This made his father recall Eliphas then send him to House Oldflowers to learn how to manage a castle.

Still, Eliphas' basic courage did seem to leave much to be desired, shown in his stutter as he went along as well as the way his hands worked against one another. "I, I understand that you think we might, we might be attacked here milady, but how reasonable is that? I've heard the rumors of what happened to the Shield Islands and the Arbor, but, but surely actually pacifying them would take all the Ironborn's manpower?"

"If they were a conventional military force, that might be so." Margaery replied, making no comment on how his obvious fear. "As it is, I do not know how likely it is we'll be attacked. I think it depends on what they find further down river, and unfortunately most of the Reach's manpower is away at present."

She couldn't keep a little growl out of her voice at that, but she went on smoothly. "And if they use the Mander to raid further inland as they surely will, this castle represents the best forward defense of Highgarden and the villages and towns further up river. Of course that means we'll have to sacrifice everything further down river, which I'm not happy about." She sighed sadly at that, shaking her head. She well knew what the smallfolk and the other lord's houses further down the river would face with the Ironborn, but she didn't have the force to do anything about it.

"I I see." Eliphas responded then rallied slightly as he changed the subject, holding out a raven messenger tube. "On another note my lady we have received a raven from Highgarden addressed to you."

Margaery took the message from him, noting that the seal had not been opened almost absentmindedly then read the message inside. It was from her grandmother who had apparently recovered her faculties and was angry at her for endangering herself and ended with an order for her to return. Return at once you fool girl, all of your brothers have gone into harm's way, I'll not allow you to do the same!

Regardless of whether or not Olenna's concern was based on her family feelings for Margaery or the possible loss of Margaery as a tool for the furtherance of her family's power, she was prepared to ignore that. Margaery knew she was right, with her here the Ironborn wouldn't even think of bypassing Oldflowers, which they might well have been able to if they were careful about it. No, she had to remain here a visible prize that could not be ignored.

With a sigh she looked at Eliphas once more. "Please, show me to your lord's office, I require some writing tools to send back a reply. And if you could have my guard captain shown to your keep's roof? It's time we raise our banners high." Soon after that Margaery's personal banner, a side view of a rose on a green field, flew from the top of Oldflowers.

OOOOOOO

Victarion was not one for strategy or thinking ahead and despite his lack of imagination he was an Ironborn down to his toes, he lived for leading others in reaving. With the Shield Islands under Ironborn control the Mander and the riches along it what are yours for the taking. Leaving Harras Harlaw in command of the Shield Islands, he led the rest of his much reduced fleet into the Mander and against the town of Dunland, seat of House Dunn.

Here and there ships broke off to attack the villages and towns built along the river, but Victarion was in search for a bigger prize. House Dunn had put up a fight, but after that he hadn't yet found any battle worth his iron.

He found it in the keep of House Graves, a noble family which much like most of the others in the Reach had sent most of its men to war already. Nor did it have the defense of Oldflowers, only a single ballista on the keep's roof and a two-story outer wall.

Victarion led Iron Victory close in, having taken archers from five other longships onto his own. They raked the wall while the other Ironborn ships ran themselves aground all around the castle. The Ironborn swiftly threw up grapnels and were over the outer wall, slaying several defenders though most had already retreated into the keep after Victarion and his men had raked the outer walls with their arrows. The ballista on top however was still firing, and one of the Ironborn ships was hit, the bolt slamming into its single mast, shattering it and sending splinters of wood into the crew, killing dozens.

Victarion grounded his own ship and he and his men raced forward pulling themselves up the ropes on the outer wall with the ease of lifelong sailors, even Victarion with his injured leg. When they got into the inner courtyard of the small keep, they found the door still barred against them, though a small tree set in the courtyard nearby was being hacked down to be used as a makeshift battering ram. Arrows were still falling from above, and here and there Ironborn lay dead.

The battering ram went to work, but it was obvious that the men inside had already piled up enough furniture and other things to keep that door standing for a while. Seeing this Victarion shook his head and motioned to a few of his men. "Follow me."

He led back up onto the outer wall, then along it to the nearest point with the keep. From there Victarion ordered a few of them to see if they could hit the nearest window with one of the grabbed mills. It was an actual window, not an arrow slit and there was enough room there for men to pull themselves through the window. The defenders of the keep however were concentrated on the first and second stories, and were still laying down a hail of deadly fire.

It took a few tries, but eventually a grapnel caught on the window ledge and one of the Ironborn volunteered to climb over first. Making his way hand over hand along the rope he came to the window sill, and pulled himself up and into a small room that looks like a child's quarters. Absentmindedly grabbing up a mirror with a gold handle he waved his hand out of the window, motioning the others to follow.

Victarion was the last across, since he was wearing full plate mail he was the heaviest. Even so he was able to pull himself along and through the window though he had to take a few moments to rest afterward. After a few moments he pulled his heavy axe off of his back and motioned toward the door. "Forward for the Drowned God!"

The seven men with him roared in reply and burst out of the room, startling to servants who'd been carrying a heavy dresser towards the stairway leading downward. Both of them screamed, but died quickly before the Ironborn raced on.

Later that day Victarion and his men feasted in the main Hall of the castle. As Victarion bit into a haunch of meat prepared by one of the servants who had been allowed to live his first mate leaned in. "Captain, you know that woman I took, she had a son and was desperate to save the boy." He sneered slightly. "I don't see why, the boy I'll get on her will be tougher and stronger by far than the little whelp, but I suppose women are soft like that. She had something to say that I thought you might find interesting."

Victarion grunted indicating the man should continue. " She was apparently one of the gossip queens here, and an interesting rumor reached her ears this morning. Apparently the maid of House Tyrell has moved to the keep of House Oldflowers. They apparently don't have enough men left to defend Highgarden, and she thinks Oldflowers might be of good enough position to keep her safe."

"My map." Victarion said holding out his hand to one side. One of his men belched, then quickly got up from the table and ran to fetch it. A moment later Victarion was looking down at it frowning. "That makes no sense, if she was afraid for her life, she would either stay in Highgarden, or move as far away from the Mander as she could get. Oldflowers is right on the river!"

"Then she's daring us come after her!" said another Ironborn, a captain from house Botley. The man slammed his tankard of ale down on the table, glaring around him, causing the few surviving servants how had been serving them all to flinch away. "I say we head out to show her the folly of trying to dare the Ironborn!"

Victarion didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about what the maiden's true reasons could've been. It was true that Highgarden was a large city as well as a castle, and with their men away at war they might really not have had enough men to man the defenses. But the same could be said about Oldflowers, couldn't it? Still Botley's right, she's not trying to run away, I don't know what she's trying to do, but the maiden of House Rose is a prize we cannot overlook.

"Very well!" He said aloud, to cheers among his men. "Let's see what that old fool Tyrell does when we take his precious daughter and give her a taste of true Iron!"

OOOOOOO

Lord Serret walked along the wall of King's Landing, nodding his head to men here and there, while keeping his head below the parapets with difficulty. My back's going to kill me tomorrow, but better that than an arrow to the head! All around him archers were busy, firing as quickly as they could. Down below there were enemy archers using the hovels, which had been cleared of wildfire and other traps by this point, as cover to fire back.

They were not making much headway though. In terms of skill the archers on both sides were probably equal, but the wall and the parapets was a far better defensive position. Even as he watched an archer firing out of what might have been a doorway at some point took an arrow to the shoulder, falling back into the hovel's interior with a cry. He reached over, slapping the archer who had just taken that shot on the back. "Well done lad!"

The man grinned and Rupert moved on. Two sections of the wall later, Serret was still moving in a sort of half crouch but the battle had become much more serious. Taking a glance over the parapet Serret took it in at a glance and bellowed toward the nearest tower. "More archers over here, now!"

Below was a force of archers larger than most sniping at the wall, trying to get local superiority. The reason for this was hundreds of men trying to smash some of the houses down. They looked like levy forces, only a few had even leather armor, and even then barely a jerkin in most cases.

Rupert turned as another forty men came up from the nearest tower. "Sorry to interrupt your naps lads, but it looks as if the bastards are trying to be clever. Show those men down there they should head back home!"

The men all chuckled, unlimbering their bows. With the new bows they quickly almost silenced the archers down there then took the levy forces under fire. Looking over the parapet Rupert saw at least two dozen men dead down there before the rest broke away, running off. More died when they tried to break away, but the majority were able to get out of bow range.

There was a cheer all around the Hand, and he cheered and thumped backs for a time. All the while however his mind was working, coming up with a grim thought. They were creating lanes for siege towers. Stranger take them, I thought it would take them longer to build those.

"Well lads, it looks as if you all have things under control. Just keep an eye out for other groups like that trying to pull the hovels down." He was answered with a roar, and he smiled for real this time. At least morale is high among the troops at least.

He quickly entered the nearest tower, then made his way down to the road, pausing a moment to stare at the interior defense that had been thrown up here. Two story tall mounds of rubble had been thrown up around the towers, where people could access the towers leading up to the wall. Those mounds were protected by other small bands of archers and men with halberds, intent on keeping any mob that appeared from attacking the tower, where food for this section of the wall was stored.

Elsewhere there were similar defenses around the trebuchets. Most of those had been thrown up in time to save the massive siege weapons, but one of them had been smashed and burnt. Ironically, more than half the mob that was part of that hadn't lived to celebrate. The Trebuchets all had small stores of wildfire near them.

The alchemists themselves had been moved to the Red Keep the moment the riots began along with as much of their paraphernalia as could be moved. Wildfire was far too important to the defense of the city to let the alchemists out in their guild which wasn't in an area that could be defended very well.

Serret nodded to the men waiting for him. "Back to the Red Keep, what streets are clear for now?"

"River Row milord, for now. There was a riot there a few hours ago, but the gold cloaks cleared it out well enough if we move fast we might be able to get through all the way up to the Keep." Said the knight in charge of the Hand's guard.

The current Hand of the King swung himself up into his horse, growling irritably. They hadn't yet gotten to the point where they would be forced to butcher their horses, but Serret could see that time coming, three or four weeks down the line. Still, I'll only order that started when every other avenue has been exhausted, the horses, much as a loathe the beasts, are a resource we might need to use in the future. And at least grass isn't hard to come by yet up at the Red Keep.

Around him the group of men began to move, riding their horses carefully up and down the mounds of rubble all around the tower. Five hundred strong the group then set off at a canter through the empty seeming streets. But they were only seemingly empty, everywhere eyes watched them, most surly, some frightened and far too many becoming angry with each passing day of few rations and no end to such in sight.

As they went the group passed near the Great Sept of Baelor. It was still open and the High Septon remained in place because they were using the Great Sept as a distribution point for the food. This made it seem as if the food was coming from the High Septon, which helped his popularity slightly and kept some of the citizenry from violence. For now we're able to distribute enough food to offset the bowls of brown and the rats on sticks, but it won't last more than a week more. We'll have to start slaughtering the food animals we've got up at the Red Keep for the defenders soon, let alone the smallfolk…

The food on the small council's table was a sign of that issue. Where before there would have been fresh fruit, bread, sweetmeats and wine, there was no wine, no sweat meats only preserved fruits, and a small amount of that. There was bread true enough, but it certainly wasn't a fresh loaf, and if there was more than a tenth part of yeast in there rather than… other things, Serret would be surprised.

There was however meat available every other day, so the food available to the royals in the Red Keep was still better than what the troops got, let alone the smallfolk. Serret rotated the troops on the wall back into the keep every other day so they could partake. And there could have been wine, but Cersei had ordered the entirety of the Keep's wine cellar turned over to the men on the wall, one of the reasons morale among them was so high. The fact she had done so as so remove temptation for herself was not known.

The men and the queen all served themselves, another change. Most of the palace's servants had been let go, simply because it would allow the Red Keep to save more food. The court as a whole had also shrunk dramatically, though that had begun before the siege.

A small jug of wine was passed around, and each of them took a small jot of wine, with Varys and Joffrey both looking irritated at the fare in front of them. The eunuch was a fat man who was rapidly losing weight and not liking it at all. Joffrey was a little shit, Rupert had decided, but he was keeping a handle on it and keeping out of the way, which was all Rupert could ask at present. "The siege is going about as well as we can expect now that Renly understands he just can't assault the walls without paying too high a price. That leaves the smallfolk as our main problem. Varys, Baelish?"

Petyr was the first to speak up. "Riots are happening here and there every day now. We're cracking down on them hard, and any smallfolk who resist are killed. The enlarged gold cloak forces are keeping a lid on things but barely." The ranks of the gold cloaks had grown dramatically when the rationing began, since Rupert and the queen had let it be known that the gold cloaks also counted as working in defense of the city and thus were due higher rations.

"But we're coming to the point where we'll have to cut back food to the troops even further or simply stop rations to the smallfolk entirely." Serret muttered. "Damn it, if there was just some way of breaking the blockade that would solve our problems…" I don't want to have to start butchering more of the hoarded food animals or the horses, not yet. We're not going to win this siege, Randyll Tarly's in charge over there now and he's not going to make that kind of mistake. But we might be able to break out and away at some point, and those horses could be the difference between life and death.

"I think we need to sortie out!" Joffrey said, glaring over at the Hand. He was angry all the time these days. The food issue was angering him, the lack of wine thanks to his stupid mother's decision was angering him, but worst of all he hadn't been able to partake of his little diversions for five days now! His mother was keeping him even closer at night. Though she allowed him to go out with a suitably sized guard to the wall during the day, that wasn't enough, he wasn't a good enough shot to join in the defense of the city personally and he was getting more irritable every day that passed.

"They'll never expect it, and you said it yourself the other day, they haven't thrown up any defenses of their own. Sneak out into the hovels during the night then assault the center of their army. With my Stranger-damned uncle dead the army out there would capitulate."

"That is one of the most idiotic ideas I have ever heard." Serret said, his voice calm but his face thunderous. "We don't have the numbers to attempt anything like that, their army's camps are too far from the city's walls for surprise to be a factor. We'd be caught out in the open and wiped out. If you don't have anything intelligent to add to the discussion your Grace, please be silent. The rest of us need to deal with reality."

"That is the king you are talking to Lord Serret." Cersei said sternly, rising to her son's defense, though her own voice was showing the strain of the change in diet and everything else. Though actually, physically the lack of fatty foods seemed to have only enhanced Cersei's beauty, removing the fat that had begun to build up here and there save around her hips and chest. "We are all being sorely tested by the current circumstances, but we all need to keep cool heads. We cannot afford to turn on one another now."

Everyone nodded at that, even Varys. He knew that his own life was very much on the line now, the mob would not differentiate, and that was only if the lack of food didn't kill him first.

"I still think that my plan would have a chance of success, because it is so obvious it would fail they wouldn't expect it!" Joffrey stated sullenly.

Serret growled, but at Cersei's warning glare he subsided. He wasn't Tywin, he couldn't simply tell the queen to shut up and smack the little shit upside the head until he learned. He had to be more 'diplomatic' than that. "If we had enough troops who could move silently through the night and a place along the wall that wasn't observed, I might be willing to try something like that, but we don't. It's a skill most armsmen don't have, and I wouldn't trust any of the gold cloaks to try it either. Petyr, anything to report?"

Petyr shrugged, and reported the many business concerns that had shut down for fear of the mob, lack of material or dead owners. "Frankly, the entire city is slowing to a halt. A lot of the smallfolk and even the merchants used what monies they had to get food from the pirates, and even that is drying up now. I've closed down all of my brothels, but I can't even bring most of the girls up here. Ser Jaime has refused my suggestion that they would be good for morale."

Cersei glared at the man angrily. She hated whores, far too often Robert had broken their wedding vows with such, and you never knew where they had been. Moreover she didn't want her son to be around such, he was so desperate to be like his 'father' he might follow down that same road.

"If the whores want somewhat better food they can move to join the men in the garrisons along the outer wall." Rupert said shaking his head. "Not in the Red Keep."

"I agree." Cersei replied firmly. "On another topic, what do you know about my father and his army Varys? He's the best chance we have to see the end of this siege."

Varys sighed sadly, though the sadness was mostly feigned about his first bit of news. The second bit however that was serious enough to keep a smile off even the most madcap jester's face. "I have several reports about Lord Tywin your highness, none of them very good I'm afraid. Lord Tywin has recently suffered a loss, a monumental one."

Everyone there, even Pycelle who had not been sleeping well and had in fact been nodding in and out a moment ago, jolted at that. Varys carefully did not let a small smile of amusement show on his face. "He was apparently chasing after the Young Wolf for several weeks, and ran into a trap of some sort. His army is retreating in good order, but it is evident that Ranma has his number and the numbers now." Vary's lips twitched at his little bit of word play, though he was the only one who was of any mind to notice the humor. "It will be down to luck if he reaches the field defenses he threw up on the Kneeling Man's ford. I don't think there will be any aid from him any time soon."

There was a moment of silence then as the queen raised a weary hand to her eyes while Lord Serret grimaced. Joffrey however was practically vibrating in rage. Jaime simply sighed sadly. Before anyone could speak however Varys went on quickly. "There is something else my birds have reported, something much closer to home and much more important to us here and now. Three of my little birds inside the city live along the edge of Fleabottom. They report seeing several bodies with no visible sign of death save signs of blood around the mouth and eyes. Most of them were found lying in a puddle of their own sick, which also was colored red from their own blood."

That brought another moment of silence around the table, as everyone but Joffrey paled in fear. "Plague…" Pycelle murmured. The Grandmaster could all too easily recall his early years at the Citadel when a plague struck Oldtown. The measures taken had been utterly brutal, but they had worked. "We must contain it! Offer rewards for every hundred dead rats, they are carriers, double the number of cats in the Red Keep and make certain that they are not killed for the meat on them. Most importantly close off Fleabottom if we can, keep it from spreading!"

"How?" Jaime replied harshly, his hands on his sword blade trembling slightly. He was terrified of plague, of the idea of an enemy against which his skill would be useless. "Fleabottom isn't separated by the rest of the city by a wall or a gate, there are dozens, hundreds of different sized roads leading into and out of the slums."

"Then we need to create dead zones between different districts, not just Fleabottom and its neighbors but all of them." Pycelle stated firmly, his exhaustion in abeyance as one of his childhood nightmares came to life in front of him. "We need to keep people from moving from one area to another, that way we might be able to stop it from spreading."

"We don't have the manpower." Jaime protested a second before Serret could.

"We do if we use wildfire." Pycelle replied bluntly. "Get the Grand Master Pycromancer and his minions to create as much of it as we can, then burn out the dead zones, set up wildfire traps if we can and make certain the smallfolk know they are there. We'll have a panic on our hands, but we'll have one of those the moment people realize any kind of sickness is going around, let alone a full blown plague."

"Use of Wildfire in the city? Are you mad?" Petyr asked, aghast. Not at the idea itself or even the horrendous loss of life that would come from such, but the amount of businesses, some of which were his that would be destroyed.

"No, I am the only one here who has lived through a plague before! My lords, I beg you to listen to me! A plague will kill us just as quickly as that army out there would if it breached the wall, faster even, and with much less mercy." Pycelle pleaded. "Plague knows no class and bows to no king."

Everyone around the table seemed to understand then how serious this was, all save Joffrey, who was still vibrating with rage, having not even heard Varys' announcement, nor would he care if he had. Joffrey had something else on his mind.

Besides Joffrey everyone at the table turned to Lord Serret, who held his head in his hands for a moment, seeming to age slightly before their eyes. "Do it. Pycelle, you know how this works, take a map of the city and outline what needs to be done, then think up the minimum number of men you'll need to do it. Get with the Pyromancer if you think that best. Jaime and I will go over the defenses of the walls, to make certain the internal defenses are as strong as we can make it."

Jaime nodded firmly, and Serret turned to the others. "Your grace, I suggest you start to lock the Red keep down even further, no one goes in or out save myself and my guards. Baelish, you help Pycelle, he's in charge, you just help him however he wishes, and no back talk!" Serret glared at Littlefinger, who simply nodded. Serret turned away, looking at the eunuch. "Varys, I have a special task for you…"

OOOOOOO

That evening Petyr sent his bought swords the Kettleblacks brothers out into the city to find and bring back a hidden cache of gold. Of course he didn't tell them about the possible plague that might have begun. All they needed to know was that he was beginning to look for a means to escape the city quickly regardless of his position on the small council even with the enemy army out there and the blockade not allowing any ships out.

He wasn't the only one busy that night. Joffrey however was on a much more sinister mission. His mother had worked herself into a frenzy organizing the Red Keep to be even more cut off from the city around it than it had been before, cutting down on the number of servants even further. She and Lord Serret had even expelled most of the remaining court, ordering them to join the defenders of the wall. This had not been easy, but with Jaime and several of the Kingsguard enforcing her edict none had been able to argue. That evening Cersei was so exhausted she didn't even have the strength to check up on her son as she always did these days. This had allowed Joffrey to sneak off to the dungeons.

Edmure Tully had not been living an easy life even before being thrown into the deepest pits of the Red Keep's dungeon. Thankfully for him Varys had found out he had been tossed down there, though he hadn't known that Edmure had been tortured until his agents surreptitiously shifted him back to one of the upper level cells. This was information Varys had decided to sit on for a time, since he had not been able to discover who did it.

That was the only reason Edmure was still alive. But his once strong and supple frame had shrunk dramatically in the intervening weeks, with no real exercise and little food even before the rations to the prisoners had been cut dramatically. Indeed, Edmure was the only prisoner still in the prison. All the others had either been executed or forced into work gangs and worked till they died, not out of cruelty, but simply to save food. Even most of the guards had been removed, added to the gold cloaks trying to keep order in the city.

Edmure had been sleeping fitfully ever since that night he had been tortured, and he woke up quickly when he heard the clang of the dungeons doors in the distance. Even in his weakened, near delirious, state Edmure knew there was only one reason why anyone would be coming to the dungeons in the middle of the night. With a grimace he raised himself off of the cot he'd been sleeping on and moved towards the door, pressing himself to one side of it, just out of the way if someone slammed it open.

He waited there, breathing in and out as his hands clenched and unclenched. They were very careful about not letting Edmure have anything that could be used as a weapon, but Edmure was past caring. All Edmure wanted to do was go down swinging. Outside he saw a small glimmer of light along the floor, and he tensed himself. A moment later with a creaking groan the door slammed open, making him smirk as it smacked into the wall right next to him.

Ser Blount was the first one to enter the cell, a wide vicious smirk on his florid face. He stopped for a moment perplexed at not seeing anyone in the cell's bed or anywhere else, then turned at a small noise behind him before he was born to the floor by a raging half-starved madman screaming in rage and fury. "GRAHH!" Boros found himself on his back, and someone's hands clawing at his face. Those hands grabbed him by his hair and lifting his head up to slam his head back onto the ground with vicious force.

If he had been in peak condition it was possible that Edmure could have slammed the other man's head hard enough to knock him unconscious, or even crack his skull against the stone floor. As it was it simply hurt like hell and the man below Edmure roared, trying to scrabble at him punching at his chest with gauntleted fists. "Seven curse you, get off me!"

Behind Edmure could try again another man raced into the cell, and Edmure whirled, leaping for him as well. This move caught the other man by surprise, and he fell back into the doorway. He took three blows to the face and another to his chain mail armored chest before one of his gauntleted hands caught Edmure on the chin throwing him backwards. Then Edmure felt his legs grabbed. On the ground Blount had reached out, wrapping his arms around the prisoner's legs.

With a snarl Edmure went over backwards while a third knight quickly entered and aided his fellows in subduing the prisoner, which was much more difficult than it should have been, desperation lending Edmure strength. "GAH, the Father will judge you all for this!"

Behind them Joffrey had watched this all wide-eyed, astonished at the prisoner's berserk assault. However now that the world had righted himself he smirked, motioning behind him to another one of his guards, who was carrying various paraphernalia.

Despite his fury giving him strength Edmure eventually succumbed to his three attackers. Despite his best efforts he soon found himself chained to the wall with his arms stretched above him and his legs stretched out to either side. Even so Edmure still glared around at them, trying vainly to reach them with a headbutt or possibly his teeth it was impossible to tell. "Damn you all, give me a weapon, we'd see how smug you'd be then!"

His eyes hardened as Joffrey finally entered then his heart nearly froze at the sight of the various devices that the guard following Joffrey was carrying. The two men entered the cell and Joffrey personally closed the door locking it. He nodded down at the crack at the bottom of the door, and one of the men quickly grabbed the ragged blanket from the bed and stuffed it down into the crack.

"We wouldn't want anyone to hear your screams." Joffrey said almost conversationally. Two of the knights began to lay out the devices Joffrey had brought along on the bed, while Joffrey the turned back to the prisoner. "You see, the point of having a hostage is that the hostage is supposed to be valuable enough to force his House or country to bend to your demands. In your case this hasn't happened, but even so many people think that you're still valuable. I don't any longer, I don't think you're being here serves any purpose, but it can serve as a warning."

At that point Joffrey at last lost control of his anger leaning forward and shrieking into Edmure's face. "Your Riverlanders have risen against me! Against me, the true king! They've helped that bastard Stark's army attack my grandfather when he was doing his duty in defending me from the traitorous Northerners! I am going to do to you what I am going to do to every one of your lords and their families for breaking their oath to me!"

After spitting that last line into Edmure's face Joffrey seemed to calm down. He stepped away from Edmure then his eyes lit up with eagerness and his lips turned up into the most evil smile that Edmure had ever seen, sending a shiver of fear down Edmure's spine.

"We'll start slowly, it's amazing what you can do the simple knife…" The bastard King said reaching down to his pile of toys and picking out a small knife whose edge looked razor-sharp. Nearby a brazier began to burn and several of the other tools were placed upon it. "But don't worry, we'll get to the more esoteric tools eventually. We have all night…"

By the time Joffrey and his fellow sadists were finished, Edmure's body could barely be called that of a human being any longer. His mind had broken only a bare turn of the glass into the torture, thankfully. That might have happened when his eyes had been burned out with the poker, or possibly before that when Joffrey had cut off bits of his skin before using a hot brand on the exposed same area. Whatever the case, it had happened long before Joffrey had begun work on his lower regions, the pain of which finally caused Edmure's heart to stop.

Joffrey didn't notice his prisoner had died for a time, and when he did he had worked off enough of his urges to not really care. Exhaling a long breath he set aside the last of the tool he had been using. He sighed happily then intoned "Thus will all traitors to the crown be dealt with."

Around Joffrey his men all nodded. All of the Kingsguard members Joffrey had personally appointed were chosen because Joffrey could sense in them the same interests he held. It had not been easy even with Blount to call upon, but it was worth it. They took almost as much sick pleasure in the torture as their King.

"I suppose with the Red Keep shut down as it is we can't dispose of the body as we normally would, but we can leave it here as it is. Send one of the others to order the servants to stop feeding the prisoner. The ones that usually have to bring him his food can take his ration instead. That should keep them from talking." Joffrey went on. His men all nodded then began to clean up.

This ploy didn't work. For one thing, while the servants were eager to take the prisoner's rations, though it amounted to little more than a 'bowl o' brown' it added to the meager amount they were allowed, they became suspicious about why. One of them actually worked up the courage to go and see Edmure and the sight of his corpse was so horrifying to the man that he lost his stomach, and tried to get out from the Red Keep entirely.

The servants however were being watched closely by the master of whispers, and Varys intercepted the man before he could get out of the Red Keep. Hurrying the man into his own personal chambers he said simply "you seem as if you have had a fright. Brandy is good for that, sit and have a drink."

It took only a half glass of brandy to get the man talking. Varys kept plying the man with drink however saying that he needed the alcohol to get the shock of what he had seen out of the system. After his fifth glass the man never noticed how Varys opened one of the rings on his finger and poured in a small drop of a black liquid into the cup before filling it up once more.

Watching dispassionately as the servant convulsed in his chair Varys frowned thoughtfully. So the Vile One is proven to be Joffrey Waters after all. I had wondered, but he was so clever about sneaking out of the Red Keep that I hadn't been able to find any proof before this.

The question for Varys wasn't 'should I hide this information?' He had no loyalty to the Lannister cause. No, the question was how to use this information to the best advantage, who to get the information to and how. He decided after a moment to get the news out to Hoster Tully that his son had been tortured personally by the King via a spy that's he knew Hoster knew about in Riverrun. That way it would seem as if he had personally decided to pass on that information, which could be useful in the future. After all, with Daenerys Targaryen married to Ranma Stark, this might allow me to have a foot in every camp.

Closer to home, Varys decided to keep the news from becoming common knowledge in the city. That kind of thing could only turn the smallfolk further upon the royal house and everyone nearby. Varys reminded himself once again that the mob tended not to be very discerning in their targets.

Opening a secret passage in his rooms wall and lifting the body of the servant up with surprising strength Varys thought, I think I won't allow it out to Renly just yet. No, I'll wait for that until either the plague is dealt with, or I have been forced to make a run for it myself. That time is coming quickly, and I will need all the bargaining chips I can get to use with the invading army. On the other hand… I think, yes I think it is time for a Vile One at least to be found, and for Petyr Baelish to be removed…

OOOOOOO

Lord Serret had ordered Varys to somehow get the word of the plague out to the besieging army hoping that would make Renly stop attacking allowing him to concentrate on trying to control the smallfolk and stop the plague from spreading. It worked, within four hours the knowledge that a plague had begun in the city had reached Renly's ears. In the dead of night Renly and his lords met in his tent, many of them still halfway drunk from that nights revelry.

The would-be king however was not drunk, not yet. He had been drinking of course, but one thing he shared with Robert was a large capacity for drink, which served him well now. "We can't do anything about a plague can we?" He asked, looking around at the few lords who were still capable of thought. He deliberately avoided looking at Loras, who had joined them for this meeting with his father for the first time since his injury. The sight of his former lover's face pained him, as did the accusing glare in those so-familiar eyes. "We don't have nearly enough healers, and when the news of the plague breaks there goes any chance of controlling the populace of the city."

"Indeed your Majesty." Randyll said, thankful the naïve young man wasn't that naïve. Plague was the bane of any city, any army, any nation. Plague could kill more men in a year than any war, ravage a country more thoroughly than the most ruthless army. "In fact we should change our army's layout to account for this. We need to stop people getting out of the city now, not just getting in."

"True..." Renly mused. "Tell me, how many men would you need to stay here and cordon off the city?"

"For preference all of them." Randyll replied bluntly. "Even when the second echelon arrives we will barely have enough men to invest the entire city. I'm sorry my lord, but we can't afford to be adventurous when doing so might allow the plague out of the city to infect the rest of the Crownlands and beyond. We'll need to build up our own defensive lines and prepare to turn back or kill anyone attempting to get out. The Lannisters might attempt a breakout as well, and we can't allow that to happen."

Renly nodded sadly. "True enough, but it sits ill with me to simply sit here and wait for the plague to do its work. Still, needs must. We can shift the catapults down over the Blackwater, then down to the other side of the Harbor to stop any ships from leaving. Forts or defensive ditches?"

"Forts my lord, nodal points to block every road out of the city, then lines interspersed between." Randyll replied crisply, and he and the other sober lords bent to the task of mapping out the new defensive points the army would have to throw up starting tomorrow. They would need to retreat somewhat from the city, but close enough to make certain no one was able to leave.

The forts, though small, would sit along each of the six roads leading into the city. With the bridge over the Kingsroaddemolished they didn't have to worry about that, a few lines of archers and infantry plus the catapults would do there. Each fort would be led by a Lord of a Major house. Mace Tyrell took both the fort facing the King's Gate and the catapults and their defenses on the other side of the river. The other major Houses were each assigned an area throughout that night and work would begin on their construction the next day.

Eventually Randyll was satisfied and left off, allowing the other lords to retire, including Renly. Renly however was stopped by doing this by Loras. "We need to talk."

Renly frowned at his lovers, or should that be former lovers, attitude, but seeing the man wasn't about to give up, simply nodded. "Very well." Renly moved back from the flap of his tent to sit on his camp bed, a rather elaborate affair in comparison to most, but still, albeit technically, a camp bed.

As soon as Renly sat down Loras let him have it. "Why in the Seven's name haven't you come to see me? I've seen all of my friends, my father dozens of times, but not my lover?"

"I do have an army to lead you know." Renly replied, trying to calm Loras down.

"Most of which you leave to Lord Tarly while you and the other lords sit around and drink wine or practice jousting!" Loras replied tartly then went on, each word coming out louder. "The truth Renly! Am I so disgusting to you now that you can't even look at me? Was our relationship based purely on the physical?"

Keep your voice down Stranger curse it!" Renly hissed. "You know what your father will think if he hears about our love when I am due to marry your sister when I gain the throne." For just a moment Renly wondered about that, why had he made that vow anyway? He shook that off quickly however to deal with the here and now. "I was ashamed all right!?"

"What?" Loras asked, much calmer now that he was finally getting some answers.

"I was ashamed." Renly stated again, looking away for a moment. "I, even when I was in Storm's End during the siege with Stannis, I never saw battle or combat. I've never seen the, the real thing. I never realized before that, that people important to me could be injured or die in battle. Especially in a battle that I ordered, and especially you. And every time I look at you now, that guilt hits me like my brother's warhammer and I can't take it."

That sounded far more egotistical and naïve when Renly said it aloud, but it was true in a way. It wasn't the whole truth, but Renly hoped it would suffice. The rest of it was that Renly truly had thought at one point he was in love with Loras, he was so handsome and chivalrous even when he was younger. They had many happy times together over the years, yet the moment he saw Loras' disfigured face all he felt was revulsion. Renly was left wondering if he had ever been in love with Loras at all, or if it was merely lust. Yet he couldn't afford to break utterly with Loras, not when their 'friendship' was part of the ties he had to House Tyrell. After he married Margaery however, that would change.

"Oh, you stupid man!" Loras replied shaking his head. "I'm a knight, whenever I go into battle I face the chance of death or crippling injury, no matter who gives the commands. Besides, I was the one who came up with the original plan, not you. My injuries are my own to deal with, no shame or onus fall on you, my love."

Renly smiled wanly. "That's nice to hear, but it doesn't make it any easier for me. I'm, I'm handling it Loras, just give me time alright?"

Loras nodded then leaned in, sharing a kiss with Renly for the first time since his injuries. He didn't notice his lover flinching slightly before contact, and when he pulled away Loras was smiling widely. "Take all the time you need, I'll still be here, waiting." He said, before turning and leaving the tent, never noticing Renly's shiver of revulsion.

OOOOOOO

Two days after putting in at Harlaw, Asha and her now larger group of ships set to see once more. "Well, I suppose it's good we got this gaggle of sharks moving in the same direction again." Asha sighed, huffing lightly. Inwardly however she was glad to be away from the island of Harlaw. Ten Towers was still a welcoming place, and she'd knife anyone who said that Rodrick Harlaw was not the best of hosts. But the conversation she'd had with Lord Kenning had disturbed her, disturbed her a lot. Not just because it challenged her belief in the Old Way and the Drowned God, but because it was all to terrifyingly easy to see that it could be the truth.

"Gaggle of sharks, captain, shouldn't ya call us a fleet or something like that? I'd think that ya'd be 'appier 'bout leading such a flotilla." Qarl, her first mate and on-again off-again lover spoke up from next to her while Asha herself controlled the tiller. "Especially since the new ships come from House Harlaw and the houses beholden to them."

"Calling us a fleet is too generous, I'd only use that word if we were as disciplined as my uncle's Iron Fleet. And just because the newcomers come from House Harlaw doesn't tell me anything about them as individuals." Asha retorted, taking a hand off the tiller to punch the barefaced young man in the shoulder.

After a moment she went on more seriously. "I'll only truly trust any captain when he proves himself to be better than the normal jetsam. Remember those ships were the first to answer Lord Harlaw's call, and while they'll follow me at his orders, their captains are eager for plunder and booty, eager to pick at the leavings from Rise of the Kraken, and will move against me if I don't lead them right."

"We still don't know that da other tentacles of the kraken failed, cap'n." Qarl said. Like most Ironborn he believed they were invincible at sea, and he sometimes disliked the pessimism Asha viewed her father's plan with.

Looking at him Asha could only groan inside, wondering why her fellow Ironborn were so stupid! She changed the subject, knowing she wouldn't change the Maid's mind. "You're right though, with the majority of our ships now coming from Harlaw I was able to pitch a plan to the other captains. They'll all follow me, for now." Her standing with that family was well known so she had at least a little bit of leeway before she had to start watching her back for knives again.

Four days sailing took them down towards the straits between Westeros and the large island called Fair Isle. It had been here where the Iron Fleet had been demolished in the first uprising, and more than one captain in her fleet felt both anticipation and fear. Fear that history would repeat itself, and anticipation at avenging themselves.

Not a day after they entered the straits, the first group of ships came within sight of the watchtowers set at the entrance to the large port of Faircastle. Asha and Black Wind was one of those first ships, this part of the operation was the trickiest, and she wanted to make certain that it worked so had to be here personally.

The wind was with them as they moved forward, in a sort of semi-line for now, heading straight towards the port and the small town and castle of Faircastle. Five longships against the four war galleys that a little under an hour later suddenly started to make their way out of the port. Asha nodded to Qarl. "Single the split, let's show these Greenlanders what real seamanship is!"

Qarl grinned and nodded. A moment later he raced up the rigging, where he quickly began to signal the other ships. The longships after a moment began to break off, two of them turning their course slightly, heading towards the watchtower that had spotted the Ironborn. The other three turned slightly to starboard, heading towards the castle of Faircastle which was on the southern edge of the port itself.

It looked as if the longships were trying to get to shore and disgorge their crews before the war galleys could reach them, or as if they hadn't even seen the war galleys. Either assumption would fit the normal Ironborn thinking, which worked for Asha. Come on, react like we're just the normal dumb fucking islanders you think we are…

Ahead of them the war galleys came on, then Asha smirked evilly as she watched them split in turn. One went after the two longships that were making for the watchtower, and the other three going after the more dangerous threat of Asha and the two ships with her.

Asha allowed Qarl to take over the steering wheel. The ship kept racing on a trajectory for the castle for now while the war galleys continued to try and cut their course. Asha turned with a Myrish glass that she had taken in one of her first raids to keep an eye on the watchtower. She could tell when the watchers spotted the rest of her fleet incoming. She even watched as someone lit a watch-fire, trying desperately to signal the war galleys, but none of them were watching the tower.

By now the war galleys were almost upon them, and had begun to fire at them with their scorpions. Asha smiled grimly however as that fire faltered for a moment, the captains of the war galleys finally seeing the signal in the watchtower. "Sail haul, all hands to oars! Hard about to port!" Up above her Qarl signaled the other two ships currently moving with Black Wind, and they too began to turn quickly, their sails pulling up and all hands to oars.

The war galleys behind them showed their lack of experience now, hesitating to close with the enemy in front of them before turning to confront the next as they should've done. One captain in fact tried to turn his ship entirely around, while another one kept barreling forward intent on the Black Wind and her fellows, as the third actually floundered indecisively in place, uncertain which direction they should go.

Twenty minutes later however they had run out of time to do so. Asha's ships had turned almost entirely around and were now rowing hard back the way they came, moving with the speed and efficiency that only well-trained Ironborn crews were capable of getting out of their oars. They were now past the area covered by the war galley's scorpions, all of which were on their prows facing forward and to the sides of it.

Arrows began to fly both ways, but Asha added yet another aspect to the battle, because half of her arrows were fire arrows not aimed at the crews of the of the war galley's, but the rigging. War galleys could move under oars, but they were heavy and slow, losing much of their maneuverability especially in comparison to longships.

Asha's crew first riddled the war galley that had kept on course even as that captain tried desperately to turn his ship around to once more bring his scorpions to bear. Its sails soon caught fire as did several areas on its deck, even one of its scorpions was hit by a few fire arrows. Asha had no doubt that most of those fires would be put out quickly, but by then it would be too late.

Black Wind raced on, almost taking a scorpion bolt along its prow from the ship that had been floundering, and several of her men died from the arrows of that ship's crew, showing that whatever their faults as seamen they still retained enough skill at war craft to be dangerous. Asha herself nearly took an arrow in the cheek as she dived for the nearest bit of cover, the war galley's larger sides enabling the crew of that ship to fire down onto Black Wind's deck. But her crew fired back and soon enough the rigging and canvas on that ship was ablaze as well.

The other two longships had concentrated on catching up to the ship that had turned to engage the rest of the fleet, closing with it just as the war galley took the first longship of that portion of the fleet under fire. Suddenly the war galley found itself being attacked from all sides, and then two longships pulled alongside throwing their grapnels across.

Asha nodded in grim satisfaction and turned to her steersman. "Bring us back around, I want us first on the walls of that castle." Her crew gave a wild cheer at that, ignoring their dead fellows around them for now.

The rest of the fleet soon barreled into the port, more ships peeling off to attack the war galleys that she had crippled, while several others raced to aid their fellows near the lighthouse against the last sail-worthy war galley. Asha however had done enough for the overall battle, and now could get in a bit of looting for herself.

She pulled out her cutlass and her small hatchet, tossing it up and down in one hand as she grinned at her crew. "I want the lord and lady of the castle alive at least for now, and I'll be helping myself to some of her jewels, but other than that…" she shrugged eloquently then bellowed. "Who's ready to pay the iron price!?"

The Black Wind's crew answered it's captain with a roar, and the ship grounded directly underneath the castles walls, archers from above having already begun to fire at them ineffectually. Most of the armsmen of the castle might have been on the war galleys, or perhaps their sudden charge had taken them by surprise. Whichever the case, the defense wasn't nearly as strong as it could have been.

Grapnels were thrown up, and the men started to pull themselves up as archers on both sides began to fire much more accurately, at least going down. Asha lost over two dozen of her men in those few moments, but then the defenders had to split their fire when four more longships came into range grounding themselves on the shore all around the castle.

Someone on one of the other crews had been particularly forward thinking and had brought along a small battering ram, which they had quite a bit of difficulty getting over the side of the ship and onto the small strip of shore. However after that, they were able to race along the edge of the Castle towards the castle's entrance, which was a simple if heavy wooden door, not a portcullis or gate.

Suddenly Asha heard a hissing sound in the distance and then several screams abruptly cut off. Realizing what happened Asha wince even as she grabbed the grapnel rope in front of her. A second later she began to haul herself up the wall, her hatchet clenched between her teeth and her cutlass once more in its sheath. It would seem someone forgot to order their archers to take out anyone near the cauldrons with boiling pitch. I'm glad I remembered those Drowned God- damned things.

Two more Ironborn ships grounded themselves on the rocks around the castle, their crews concentrating on taking the defenders under fire for a moment. Then, just as Asha put her hands up on the wall to haul herself over Asha heard the sounds of the battering ram begin its work.

Ignoring that Asha hauled herself up. She was then forced almost immediately to roll forward, nearly throwing herself off the parapet in her haste to get away from a sword stroke.

Her hatchet was out and in her hand a second later, hacking towards the man's leg. He went down with a scream clutching at his ruined calf, and she brought her hatchet back up to meet his chin, slicing into his face right through the small opening of his bucket helmet. Asha was then forced to roll onto the dead man's body, to get away from another sword blow. Impacting against an archer who had turned to engage her with his long dagger she brought her hatchet up again this time between his legs and he screamed the blow landed "GAaaaaahhh….!"

Behind Asha more men had pulled themselves up and were engaging the other defenders, getting the swordsman's attention. This allowed Asha enough time to regain her feet while she used the maimed archer to defend herself from another archer behind him who had turned trying to fire at her. She pushed the new eunuch in front of her into that man. Pulling out her cutlass at last Asha cut the second archers throat before knocking him off the parapet to land in the courtyard below as she raced on.

By this point over a dozen Ironborn had made their way up onto the top of the wall. Asha was soon joined by Qarl and a few more of her men, and with them at her back she forged her way towards the tower that would take them down to the courtyard and the keep below.

OOOOOOO

The battle of Faircastle lasted for most of that day and well into the night. There was a holdfast in the center of the port that held out well. Yet after the war galleys were taken out it was never really in doubt, the longships allowing the Ironborn to concentrate their men wherever they wished along the docks of the city. The Ironborn crews that had been involved in taking the castle and the small holdfast had taken losses, some of them severe but what did that matter to them in comparison to the loot and plunder and above all salt wives they had taken in the castle and in the town.

What mattered more was the loss of three the longships. They had been lost in the battle against the one war galley that had gone after the two longships making for the watchtower. That war galley captain had proved to be much more capable than his fellows, and he was able to stay out of boarding range long enough for his archers and scorpions to take a deadly toll on the Ironborn.

Still, the loss of those three longships simply allowed the survivors of their crews to be used to patch up the losses in the other crews. Asha had lost 27 men dead and another 30 injured, so would need to winnow through the men off those lost ships to find replacements. Qarl had found the maester of the castle, and was currently standing over the man forcing him to help her injured, so at least a few of them would survive.

While the battle for the port continued Asha was standing in what had been the bedroom of the lord and lady of the Castle. The Lord was dead, he had fought decently enough for his old age in the entrance to the keep below. The lady of the castle however was still alive, and untouched, for now. Since she had been personally taken by Asha as part of her plunder, she would remain that way. That had earned Asha several odd looks from her crew, but they knew not to question her.

"I'm a bargaining piece I presume?" said the woman in question. She was a short and extremely buxom brunette. Slim in the waist she had hips and breasts that nearly any normal woman would have envied. Her face was not gorgeous but pleasant enough, and her eyes which were brown and somewhat deep, seemed actually intelligent, odd for a Greenlander woman.

"That depends on what family you're originally from." Asha said, looking at some of the jewelry the lady had. There weren't that many pieces to her collection, but one or two of them were very fine. One of them in particular grabbed Asha's attention, a bracelet with a torque of worked gold set with what looks like a very good quality sapphire. She reached forward, trying it on her wrist and turned to look at the other woman.

The Greenlander showed no outward sign of annoyance that Asha had stolen that from her which was good. She seemed to understand the realities of her new situation well enough. "I am Lady Daphne Crakehall once again since you killed my husband and he had yet to father a child on me. I don't suppose you have any idea if any of the captains on the war galleys survived? He was the heir of the house and it's only son in point of fact."

"Almost certainly dead." Asha said without a hint of concern. "Crakehall?Of the Castle of the same name?" When she was young the Reader had made certain Asha knew the names of the more powerful Greenlander houses. She thought she remembered that one was important to the Westerlands.

This was true, since Crakehall stood on the Ocean Road and defending its southern border with the Reach. "Indeed. Nor I am I the daughter of a a branch family, I am Lord Roland Crakehall's daughter, his fourth born child."

Asha look at the woman, trying to see if there was any deceit in her expression or body language, but she couldn't see anything there. After a moment Asha realized that keeping her up here separated from the rest would allow her to question the maester of the Castle and make certain of her back story. "Good, I might need you in the future. Which means you'll be safe from what my men have in-store for your maids and other female servants."

At the woman's look of incredulity Asha shrugged. "I might be an Ironborn, but I'm still woman, and that kind of crap bothers me. Can't stop it though."

Over the next few days it became clear that the victory and more importantly the amount of plunder and salt wives they had taken had given Asha enough clout with the other captains that she could begin to truly organize them, and begin to prepare to defend the Straits. She didn't think that word of this attack would get out quickly, they had taken every ship in the harbor and there weren't that many there to begin with. Unless the war galleys they sank were supposed to switch out with their fellows in Lannisport or something, Asha could keep word of this attack from getting out, and use it Faircastle as a forward base to attack any fleet moving to invade the iron Islands.

Two days after the initial battle the Ironborn were still winnowing through the small town for anything of value or any females pretty enough to take back to the Iron Islands as salt wives, or simply use as whores for the moment. However, Asha had once again taken to sea with Black Wind as well as several of the Harlaw ships including the one who's captain had been the one to bring along the battering ram. That showed a level of forward-thinking Asha wanted to encourage. They had put out to sea, moving further down the Straits cautiously.

So it was that they spotted the incoming small fleet of nine longships moving along almost fearfully down the Straits. Asha turned to her signalman. "Signal the other ships to start slowly turning around to Faircastle, we'll go forward and meet these fellows. It doesn't seem to me," she said in a loud voice that carried all along the deck just to make certain that this was passed along, "That these boys look like they won anything."

They weren't. As Black Wind got closer she saw that all of them were flying the flag of House Blacktyde. They kept moving, though they slowed when Black Wind came within shouting distance of the lead ship. "Who's your captain?"

Eventually Black Wind had come close enough to the Baelor Blacktyde's own to shout across at him. To say Baelor was surprised that Faircastle had fallen was an understatement, but he was happy of the news, and his ships followed him into the port quickly enough, quickly crowding it from one end to the other.

That was dangerous, and after ordering his captains to rotate half of their crews onto the shore he ordered their ships back out to sea to find other places to anchor for the day. "A single fire ship could destroy our entire fleet if it struck with us all here," he said to the few unhappy captains who questioned him.

Such questions had stopped almost entirely after they saw the Lannister fleet close the final jaws of the trap behind them. Before that, more than one captain among his house had been ready to challenge Baelor for his act of cowardice in turning away from the battle, but seeing those war galleys moving in and watching them deal almost contemptuously with the longships that had entered the port had changed their minds. The ambush he had done on the two war galleys that had tried to follow them had also helped his standing.

Baelor Blacktyde was a young man of Asha's age, though the two of them hadn't met before this. He had been sent as hostage to the Reach after Balon's first uprising, since the Reach forces had been the ones to take Blacktyde and Orkmont. He was tall, black haired and bearded, though rather than being the wild untamed thing most Ironborn seems to favor his beard was a neat affair somewhat longer than a normal goatee, but still extremely well cared for. His black eyes were sharp and intelligent, and his face lively. When Baelor spoke he could make the normally grating Ironborn tongue seem much more lively, much like Rodrik.

It was obvious watching her serve them that Daphne Crakehall was quite taken with his looks, and Asha rolled her eyes when she was certain neither of them were watching. For his part however Baelor seemed to ignore the woman for now, concentrating on relaying what he knew of the battle in Lannisport.

"So after making certain that none of the other war galleys were trailing us, we decided to cut hard for the land and head to the Straits. I felt that doing so might allow us to take a few merchant vessels between Lannisport and Faircastle. It had too, we took two of them before sighting you and my crews are well up for plunder at present, but neither ship actually fought back, simply taking to there rowboats and making for shore. "

In the Straits shore was a risky proposition for larger ships but small rowboats could make shore if they were lucky enough to figure out where the shore was rather than a small inlet that was cut off from the rest of the Westerlands by impassable columns of rock that stuck out of the coast. At times a small pirate operation popped up occasionally among the rocks, but frankly the trade that crossed the Straits just wasn't enough for them to make the most out of it.

Baelor stared across the dining table it Asha, who was lounging in one of the better plush seats in the castle, while he did the same on a sofa. The two of them alone at present save the lady of the castle who was serving them. His captains were no doubt present telling Asha's captains their tale of woe which would cause issues, but it was pretty obvious that Asha had just as much control about her fleet as he did his. For the moment at least. "So what are your plans?"

"The Lannisters aren't seamen, they don't like putting out to sea much further than they can see the land. I think they'll come straight down the Straits and make for Banefort, pick up what more men they can there and then invade the Islands. With the fleets elsewhere, the Islands are open for invasion. I aim do what I can to stop that from happening."

Baelor nodded, still staring at her thoughtfully though his eyes flickered to the lady of the house once when she passed behind Asha. She was a pretty lass. Still his attention was firmly on more important matters. "I'll join you for that, if we can beat their fleet off we might be able to sue for peace with the Westerlanders, whatever hell else is happening down south."

Both of them became a little grim at that, but would not dare speak the words aloud, after all they were practically strangers. But the thought passed between them that the Rise of the Kraken might have been an unmitigated disaster. After all even if Balon and Victarion won their battles, what would that matter if the Iron Islands themselves were conquered behind them?

OOOOOOO

Ranma and his men were making excellent time heading toward the Trident and beyond when the sky finally cleared. With the rain pounding down it had taken them four and a half days to get the pikes onto the road, which was amazingly fast for any other army, very slow for them. Still, their rate of advance sped up after they reached the road.

Their first destination would be the town of Harroway. That city was one of only three smaller supply points that could supply Tywin's army, mostly tools and weapons, as an area it was actually more important than Stone Hedge or Wayfarer's Rest. Much like the other Westerlands-allied areas around Darry and Harrenhal, Harroway also supplied the army camped outside Raventree Hall. This meant that in terms of food at least, they would not be able to help feed Tywin's army.

For now though, the sun was high in the sky the day was beautiful, and for Ranma and Fenris at least the pace of the Army wasn't difficult at all. Ranma let himself be lulled into a moment of downtime between battles, holding Daenerys in front of him. Possibly sensing this the rest of the lords had moved back to lead their own men in the column rather than stay at the front, leaving the two would-be royals with Smalljon and their other friends.

Fenris loped along at the head of the army, and though he was somewhat happy at the moment he was a little irritated. While normally he wouldn't care about carrying his bonded or his mate, the two of them had been parted for several weeks, and Fenris knew that such as that could make mates anxious for one another's affections. Fenris just hoped the two of them weren't going to, what was the human term for sniffing and rubbing against one another, flirting? He just hoped they didn't do anything like that while riding on his back.

Ranma took in the scenery, noting that there were some smallfolk in the fields nearby and wondering what they grew here in this portion of the Riverlands. His mind however wasn't really on what he was seeing, no was really concentrating on the future. Time's getting on, we have at best another year before winter hits. By that point the lands need to be prepared.

In his arms Daenerys leaned her head back lightly against Ranma's shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

"Transportation, manpower the need to get farmers out to their fields for at least one more harvest, and everything else that's involved with getting the North and the Riverlands ready for winter." Ranma replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Autumn's been declared, which means we have time for one more harvest before winter hits, and it'll be important to bring in as large a harvest as possible. I'm also thinking whether or not Vincent will have any luck in thinking of a way to create more glass gardens down in Riverrun or anywhere else, and how long it will take the Royal canal project to be finished, as well as the Umber canal."

Daenerys smirked impishly struck by a sudden desire to tease. She lifted her hips off of Fenris, pushing back with her rear slightly against Ranma's lap. "Reeeally?"

"Well not now." Ranma growled his arms around her tightening slightly. It had been nearly a month since the last time the two of them had been able to make love and their policy of not making love while in the field surrounded by their army had had truly begun to bite them hard.

A warning growl from below them caused Daenerys to move forward slightly,sighing regretfully. It was amazing to her how much she enjoyed that aspect of their relationship, and she was looking forward to getting to Harroway and having at least a single night together.

Thinking about that town she began to go over the plans they had made for after reaching that town. "Are you certain sending Lord Karstark down to the town of Saltpans is a good idea? I understand the need, I'm just wondering if he's the right one for the job. Wouldn't Smalljon be a better bet, or Lord Mallister?"

"I think Smalljon might be needed later on, he's the only other one with even a bit of training in how to lead the pike regiments. As for choosing Rickard, my kinsman might not be the most diplomatic soul, but he's better at it than Greatjon, and he proved his ability to command before this war even began. Jason's good, but I might need him to speak to some of the Riverlands lords on the other side of the Trident such as Lord Vance of Atranta, Lord Blackwood and even the Lannister allies, since we don't have a good idea about why some of them joined with them."

"I know Blackwood fought against the Westerlanders, but my father never told me much about the man, and I want someone with us who knows them. But you didn't suggest any of the other Riverlands lords, hhmm?" Ranma finished with a chuckle, squeezing Daenerys around her stomach, fighting with himself to keep his hands from wandering.

"I like Blanetree well enough, but he's got a lot of anger in him, best to keep him close." Daenerys replied firmly. "Ryger is too arrogant and Roote too much of an… what did Smalljon call him? An ass licker? Beyond the fact we'll need him in Harroway." And beyond the little trap I made in our agreement with him, if the townspeople aren't happy to see him… "But you don't sound worried about the rest of this campaign."

"Tywin is hampered by four things, morale, organization, supplies, and time." Ranma replied. "His morale is in the crapper right now, as is his organization because he just lost a major battle after technically winning for several weeks. Worse, he lost at least half of his men in that battle in a one-sided affair that every one of his soldiers knows was one-sided, and in which he was outsmarted from the get-go. Armsmen aren't stupid, they'll realize that just as well as any Lord could which brings me to the second portion of that issue. He doesn't have many lords left to keep discipline, and worse, he doesn't have anything like our system of sergeants in place."

"Supply we've already gone over that one. But that word doesn't just mean food. Arrows, lances for their cavalry, leather to fix their boots or armor, or pieces of metal to fix their armor, new weapons, which are always needed after a battle, all of that falls under the heading of supplies. And thanks to Wendel, Tywin's force won't have many tents, cooking supplies, or other camp necessities either. I've made certain that our army is well-stocked with everything of that nature but even we are beginning to feel the strain, and Tywin's army is going to be far worse off."

"And third, he knows that he needs to keep his army intact, he can't take another loss like has already. He called up everything the Westerlands had, the Westerlands won't be able to supply another army for months maybe even a year, during which the winner of this war will be have been decided and winter may well have arrived even this far south. I played on that and his desperation to get down to King's Landing when I baited him."

"Are we going to follow them once they leave the Riverlands?"

"It depends on the direction and the status of our own army. If Tywin tries to escape by the River Road, they won't even get out of the Riverlands. we'll crush them between us and Wayfarer's Rest or smash them on the road when they run into us."

"You're putting a lot of faith in Jon," Daenerys said, not critically just commenting. "I thought that Wayfarer's Rest wasn't that good of the Castle."

"It won't have to be. If Tywin retreats from his fortifications at the Kneeling Man's Ford, we'll be right behind them. All Jon will have to do is slow them down and we can crush the Westerlanders right there."

"Beyond that, we'll need to reform the army, rest, and put the Riverlands in order as much is possible. Winter is coming Daenerys," he said seriously shaking his head. "Regardless of the other factions warring elsewhere we need to remember that, and look to our people."

Daenerys nodded, but decided she'd had enough of the serious talk for now. She took Ranma's hands, gently kneading them where they held her around the middle. "And will we have time enough for some farming of our own?" she said.

Ranma gulped. "Er, I, I thought we'd decided that we, we wouldn't have children until after we'd secured to the crown." Despite his self-control Ranma's hands began to knead Daenerys' stomach rising slightly higher to gently bump the bottom of her breasts. Daenerys was wearing a simple shirt and leggings combo as she had since leaving Winterfell, though this one had been a gift from Lord Seagard and was much more form fitting than the others she had, which showed.

"I know…" Daenerys said with a sigh leaning her head back against his shoulder for a moment then kissing his neck lightly for just a second, not speaking of one of her deepest fears, which was connected to childbirth, not now, it was too pleasant a day out. "And the equation still hasn't changed. You might need my dragons in the field, and I'm the only one that can command them. But practicing is rather fun though don't you think?"

Ranma growled back an acknowledgment, leaning forward slightly to nibble at Daenerys's neck forgetting that Smalljon, Merry and their other friends were to either side of him for a moment and even that Fenris was under him. That was brought strongly to mind however when Fenris leapt forward rather than loping along, almost bucking like a horse would to throw his two riders off. Ranma scrabbled to grab onto Fenris is for a while Daenerys did the same with a startled yelp, causing Smalljon and the others on either side to burst out in laughter.

Barely another day's march brought them to the Trident, across which they could see the town of Harroway. Originally the town had been situated directly on the river, but it had been burned since then in the War of Conquest and then again later on during the Dance of Dragons and the rivers had shifted slightly. Now it sat on the southern edge of the Trident, a squat, somewhat ugly little town, but still much cleaner seeming to Ranma than King's Landing.

Ranma hadn't stopped here on the way down to the capital, the King's party had pushed on to Darry instead. Ostensibly this was because Robert felt that the whores in Harroway were substandard and one could never tell if they had any diseases, but whether that was the real reason Ranma didn't know.

When the vanguard of the army was just out of bow range they halted, the command group moving off the road slightly to a small rise in the land. Once there, Ranma nodded over to Patrek. With his injured arm Patrek had become the standard bearer for the march rather than a front line swordsman. That hadn't stopped Ranma from starting his training though. "Raise the banner Patrek, let's tell them who we are!"

That statement roused a cheer from lords and common soldiers alike all around them, while Daenerys laughed aloud, her violet eyes glinting in eagerness. For his part Patrek smiled then unwound the banner standing upright next to him, allowing it to fly free. The banner was quickly caught in the breeze, and the shouts and cheers of the men around them expanded.

The banner that Sansa had designed back in Winterfell was a magnificent symbol of the unity of the Stark and Targaryen families, though it broke many of the conventions of heraldry. It was a large, five feet by three feet banner, denoting a tower shield. The shield was bisected with one side having the gray of House Stark for a background, while in the foreground was half a dragon's face, its maw gaping open. On the other side set on the black of House Targaryen was a wolf's muzzle. Its mouth was open as well and the two faces were set so they seemed to merge in the center of the shield.

At this signal Daenerys concentrated, calling upon Sunfyre and Rhaegon. The two of them had been resting in two of the very few carts following the army, but at her call quickly flew into the air and forward of the army. Even from out of bow range they could hear the screams begin from the townspeople and Westerlands garrison.

"That's it my lady," Ranma murmured from where he now stood next to Daenerys. "Scare them, they've already heard about you from that spy that got away, it won't take long to frighten them. Either they surrender or they run, I really doubt they have the stomach to stay and fight but if they do even then the dragons can take their attention away from our men moving forward. Lord Roote." He said, turning to that man. "This was your town, you lead the way in."

Roote jolted a little, staring over the Trident at his town, the single-story walls seemed almost to tower twenty stories in his mind, and the archers on top seemed to multiply as he stared. He gulped, backing his horse away slightly, but before anyone could call him on it. Daenerys spoke up, her voice the odd, stilted tone that showed how much she was concentrating on her dragons. "Wait. Something's happening."

Daenerys watched through Rhaegon's eyes she saw four armsmen burst out of what looked like a well-to-do merchant's house. One of them was dragging a young girl behind him, while carrying what looked like a carpet over one shoulder, while another was hauling along a woman. There were a dozen other men waiting outside with bundles of what she assumed were stolen items on their horses already. There were also a number of dead smallfolk in the streets. The nearest townsfolk still alive were a few houses down, staring at the group of armsmen fearfully from around the walls of a house there.

As she watched a boy who couldn't be older than Rickon rushed out from the house along with a man wielding a frying pan. One of the armsmen guffawed and smacked the man wielding the ironing pan to the ground with the flat of his blade, but the boy got in his way when he tried to thrust his sword into the down man's body, cutting the man's arm with what looks like some kind of knife. Enraged the man lifted his sword to strike the boy down.

Then he however had seen enough, and releasing her control of Rhaegon for a moment with a final order to simply fly around she forced her considerable control onto Sunfyre. "Dive, help the little-human against big-human, use claws!"

The dragons by this point were about the size of a pony, minus their wings of course. Their claws were also now very sharp, and powerful enough to take down a dear with ease. Their backs weren't strong enough to carry anyone, but they did have striking power.

At his mistress' mental command Sunfyre flew down his claws extended. He dodged a few arrows fire from here and there in the town, but most of the archers on the wall had already fled their posts, completely spooked by the two dragons flying just out of bow range. This was not helped by watching Sunfyre dive down as if it he was a hunting hawk avoiding their fire as he did.

The guardsmen about to cut the young boy down had a moment to wonder what was blocking the sun and to hear his fellows begin to cry out in fear before he died. Sunfyre's claws slammed into the back of his head talking it off his shoulders. His body went down in a welter of blood and brain matter as Sunfyre roared. The horses that the Westerlanders had hoped to use to escape the town bolted, dragging two of them along the road with them for a moment before they lost their grips on the stirrups while the other armsmen ran off screaming.

By that point Sunfyre was already banking back up, and Daenerys was faced with her hardest mental challenge yet. Going up Sunfyre didn't have the speed that he had going down and the archers were better prepared. Luckily there still weren't many of them willing to try to shoot at the dragons rather than run away, and after a few harrying moments during which Daenerys nearly bit through her upper lip she had Sunfyre once more back in the air circling the town with Rhaegon.

At last Daenerys opened her eyes again, looking over at her husband. "The townspeople are rebelling and the garrison is attempting to loot the place in some areas of the town before getting away." She reported quickly. "It's getting ugly in there."

Ranma nodded, not questioning why she had risked Sunfyre that way. Later Daenerys would castigate herself for it, though Ranma would praise her when told the story. That moment, when rather than trying to protect her dragons Daenerys used them to save a nameless and unknown child showed Ranma once again that Daenerys was a woman after his own heart.

For now Ranma turned to the others, barking out orders quickly. "Wendel, pick out your best and most disciplined knights, I'll want two flying columns of a hundred and fifty each, the first moving after me as soon as possible. Smalljon, Patrek, Greatjon, you'll go with the second group to circle the town. Ser Blanetree, Jason, you'll stay here and keep the rest of the army back for now. Control Sers, we want to move into that town and restore order with the minimal loss of life either to the garrison or to the townsfolk. Once we capture them, the guards can then stand trial, it'll be a good trial run for the prisoners we've already taken, but we need to restore order, anarchy helps no one."

At least not on this scale, he thought to himself rather amused. Ranma was already thinking about taking on Stannis, and against someone like that, chaos and the ability to ride it would help, just as much as having lieutenant he trusted to act on their own initiative had. After all, if I can't predict what Dacey of all people would do, how is someone else supposed to?

While the others all nodded understanding, Lord Roote looked caught between relief at not having to lead the charge and anger that Ranma wasn't putting him in charge of the attack group. Ranma noticed that, but didn't care, instead he raced off sprinting towards the town on the other side of the Trident. He moved so fast he was almost a blur crossing the distance within a minute of setting off while behind him Fenris stayed behind growling irritably. Ranma had also given him some very specific orders, which didn't make the direwolf happy, but he would do his part.

There were a few archers by the northward gate that had remained at their posts not because of courage but because the area around them had already fallen under the control of the townsfolk. They had even been forced to kick away the ladders leading up to the wall. The wall of the town wasn't well-built enough to actually have a staircase or towers.

Something that would have to change, Ranma mused. By then time that thought shot across his brain however Ranma was already leaping into the air. He cleared the outer wall easily, his sword flicking out left and right in midair to chop two of the archers on the wall into pieces before he continued on, landing easily on his feet on the other side of the gate.

Instead of forcing it open however, Ranma raced on, Ice now blazing with ki as he charged into a ferocious melee going on between a group of seven or eight guardsmen and two dozen townsfolk. None of the townspeople were armored or armed as well as that initial group that Daenerys had spotted, and several of them were already down, dead or wounded.

Ranma smashed into the battle like a bowling ball hitting the nine pains. He sent men through the air or stumbling to the ground with that first rush then threw Ice into the air, grabbing one armsmen by the arm pulling him into a kick that sent him flying into several of this fellows. Then Ranma weaved through the melee, working to separate the two sides with the minimal amount of force needed.

Grabbing one man right under the arm Ranma ducked under another blow, kicking out and sending two men, one townsman and one armsmen to either side of the street before twisting around his hold on the first man slamming a palm into the back of his head, knocking him out easily. Before the man collapsed Ranma used his head as a standing board, lashing out with kicks to all around him before leaping off, dodging blades and even a flail he leaped into a clump of combatants.

While the townspeople got the idea they should back off the Westerlanders tried to fight back or run, but failed at both. Soon enough they were all disarmed and hurting. The townspeople saw this and rushed to attack again but Ice fell out of the sky at that moment. Ranma grabbed it out of the air and brought it down point first with as much speed as the sword's Valyrian steel could handle. The point of Ice impacted the ground of the road shattering it and sending a shockwave through the air which slammed into the people all around and threw them back away from one another. Thanks to Ranma's earlier work in separating them, the two groups were now fully separated at two different sides of the street.

"Enough!" Ranma shouted, glaring around then pointed at the Westerlanders. "You lot, hands where I can see them." He turned to the townsfolk who were getting back to their feet. Many of them were not looking at him though, still glaring at the Westerlanders. "Tie them up. I don't know what they've done here, but they will stand trial for it after we take the town."

"Who are you to tell us to back down!? Those bastards have it coming!" shouted one man, but he quailed as Ranma's eyes pinned into the floor.

"I am Ranma Stark-Targaryen, grandson and speaker of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and Lord Paramount of the North. And I tell you now that they will stand trial, but this chaos will stop! Before I arrived these guards were winning against you lot! And do you think that these are the only ones who are trying to take advantage of the fighting here, or that all of those who do will be from the garrison?!"

Violence hovered in the air there was a moment, the townspeople could have turned on Ranma right then, but Ranma didn't seem to notice, simply barking out orders. "You five," he said pointing to the largest and strongest looking of the townspeople. "You're with me, we'll move towards the central holdfast and gather as many of your fellow townsfolk to organize this mess."

"You two," he said pointing to a few older men who had the look of men who had seen battle before this. "You're in charge of the prisoners. I want them alive remember, the rest of you spread out and tell your fellows that you all will have justice if they start to calm the fighting down."

Twenty yards behind where Ranma had ended that skirmish there was a sudden booming crash. Ranma smirked as Fenris, glowing blue-gold smashed straight through the flimsy gate of the town at the head of the flying column that he had ordered Wendel put together. Around him the townspeople began to scatter, but a barked order from Ranma stopped them, the smallfolk's ingrained training to follow orders holding them for moment.

In that moment Ranma once again took command, and his orders were now obeyed as Wendel and his men began to spread through the town.

Ranma looked at the five men he'd chosen and asked "Where d'you think is the center of the fighting is it the keep or elsewhere?"

"We've got the Northwest under control," One of them said. The Grand is over there, and he was organized and waiting for a chance! If we're 'aving any trouble, it's pro'bly by the fat bastard's keep, the garrison took it over as their barracks when he fled like a yellow belly!"

Ranma frowned, hearing that said aloud. Lord Roote's retreat from Harroway was one of the problems he had with the man. Not that he could have protected the place, after all the walls were a joke, most of the buildings he could see were wood, and he didn't have that many men, a bare 600 or so and not many of them decently trained or outfitted. However he could have ordered the town abandoned entirely, forcing the smallfolk out with him further north. Instead he'd simply ran, which both Ranma and Daenerys felt was, as Daenerys put it once 'damning evidence of the so-called care he gives the smallfolk who are supposed to look to him for protection.'

But something else the man said grabbed his attention. "The Grand, who's that?"

The men all around him clammed up, and Ranma laughed shaking his head. "All right, you don't have to tell me now but I hope he'll come forward after order's been restored. He sounds like someone I'd like to meet."

He turned to Wendel, who was still on his horse of course. "You know what to do Wendel. The knight nodded his head and Ranma reached up to clasp arms with him briefly before the two men raced it in different directions.

Riding around the town's walls the second of Wendel's cavalry column along with Fenris smashed in from the south, shattering that gate as well. Then they held it easily against the forty men from the garrison who had just reached it. Twenty-two of those men surrendered after Fenris ripped five of their fellows into pieces and Greatjon had cut two of them down with the ease of a man long accustomed to such excursions. The fear of the dragons, the coming of the direwolf from the south, the fact that both of the gates were now held by their enemies and the fact that every Northerner had taken up Ranma's shout of surrender as they moved through the town made the garrison quit fighting quickly.

Stopping the smallfolk from killing them all took a bit longer, but even then it wasn't as difficult as it could've been. The shock and awe of the dragons, as well as the direwolf and Ranma himself worked for them, and there were only about 2000 perhaps 3000 smallfolk in the town in any event. And even using clubs and staffs the men from the north were more than a match for the Westerlander garrison, most of whom were barely trained levy units, with a smattering of armsmen and archers pulled from minor noble houses. They didn't have the armor or the training of the knights of House Manderly.

Eventually the prisoners were gathered outside the Lord Roote's keep, where the rest of the army commanders joined Ranma, Wendell and the others. However, this almost unmade the work Ranma and his fellows had done pacifying the town.

"Traitor!" said one man from among the townsfolk, pointing angrily at Lord Roote who along with a few of his men had come forward with the other Lords.

"Coward!" shouted another.

"Despoiler!" shouted another. That time it was a female voice, and Ranma noted that she looked as if she was some kind of maid. As he noted that, someone else threw a piece of rotten fruit which smacked into Lord Roote's chain mail. Another one caught him in the face, and he backed away from the townspeople looking around worriedly.

A few of Roote's men made to move forward, and the grumble from the watching crowd began again but stopped instantly as Ranma and Fenris were suddenly in the men's faces. "Back off if you want to live." Ranma said in a soft tone that still carried through the suddenly silent crowd.

"Why do I get the impression my Lord Roote, that you fled 'your' town in a different manner than you told us?" said Daenerys, riding up on her own horse with Ser Barristan on his following by her side. Myrcella wasn't with her, having commandeered several of the locals who had remained by the gate to show her to where those in need of medical attention were taken prior to and during the outbreak of violence. Naturally enough that was the sept of the town.

"You already knew that I had to retreat quickly from the town my lady." Lord Roote said, staring between her, Ranma and the townspeople, who now once more looked as if they were poised on a knife's edge of violence.

"Yes I knew that, and though it didn't speak highly of your courage, it did speak somewhat of your good sense. But you left your people behind, you insinuated to us that that was because you retreated precipitously? Is that not the case?"

"I don't know what that word means milady," shouted someone from in the crowd, "but he had enough time to loot his own way out!"

"Truly?" Daenerys said looking at the man before turning back to Lord Roote, though her words were still addressed to the man who had spoken. "And would you be willing to testify to that?"

The man looked bemused for a moment for another member of the crowd leaned in and whispered hurriedly into his ear. He then nodded and several dozen others also shouted they had seen the same thing.

"Hundreds of us could do that ladyship!" said another somewhat deeper voice. The crowd seemed to part for a moment, letting through an older man of Ser Barristan's age.

Looking at him, Ranma got the impression of solidness. He looked like a cross between a well-to-do merchant and drover, possibly a man who had made the jump between working in someone else's warehouse to owning his own. In one hand he held a billhook that was dark with blood.

He looked at Ranma not like a smallfolk normally would to a lord, but almost challengingly. "I'm the Grand, Grimaldi Anderson lordship. I was told you wanted to speak with me?"

"Tell me Ser," Ranma said moving forward to hold out his hand to the other man. "You say that Lord Roote pillaged the town before leaving, did he do that kind of thing often, simply taking whatever he wanted? And what were his taxes like?"

"Not often, but taxes have been heavier ever since the little fucker took over from his old man." The older man replied bluntly, not showing his surprise that a lord would offer to shake hands with him, but grasping the younger man's arm firmly, though the power of that grip told him Ranma wasn't someone to cross. "There've also been tales of a few maids who were suddenly sent home to their families out in the countryside."

"You have no proof of that." Lord Roote muttered, gathering his men around him as the crowd's muttering became louder and darker. It was evident that there was a lot of repressed feelings there, and after the last few months of being under Lannister rule plus the final outlet of violence none of these people were willing to go back to the status quo.

"More than a dozen people here just said they would testify that very thing." Daenerys said.

Lord Roote move towards her blustering angrily, not noticing that Ser Barristan had loosened his blade in his sheath and moved to one side while his own men had carefully raised their own hands away from their weapons. All of them had seen Ranma in action, and beyond that they could count. "We had an agreement!" said Lord Roote angrily.

"Yes a written agreement since you and Lord Wayn wanted the pacts I made with you in writing." Daenerys said. "You would retain control of Harroway and gain lands from House Darry, in return for your backing us in the future. Contingent upon there being no wrongdoing against the smallfolk on your part." She smiled faintly as Lord Roote blanched. "Did you think I put that in as only a bit of fluff to fill in the parchment? Rest assured that we will get to the bottom of these claims against you. For now, I believe it best that you remain in our care."

As Lord Roote was pulled protesting from the saddle Daenerys turned to Ranma. Leaning close she said "I will oversee the trials of the garrison. You should oversee Lord Roote, take Ser Grimaldi and some of the other local representatives with you." At his quizzical expression she explained, her eyes showing her sadness. "I need to show that I can wield the sword Ranma."

"And I need to show that I can handle politics and matters of law," Ranma said with a nod. "Makes sense especially if we want everyone to realize that this is an equal relationship. We both need to show that we are equally capable in as many fields of ruling is possible."

"Exactly." Daenerys nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly. Have some of the men bring out a few chairs, I'll oversee the trials for the garrison and any other looters our men found outside, and you can deal with Lord Roote inside until the time comes for sentencing."

Just then the crowd screamed a bit, moving back hurriedly as Sunfyre and Rhaegon both landed by Daenerys. She looked at them, then smiled faintly, reaching out to gently stroke them under their chins. "Well done my little ones, she murmured, sending a feeling of approval and love down their link, getting back a feeling of intense hunger. That made her frown a little. "I think first though I need to let these two hunt, their exertions have made them tired. Unless there is a surplus of meat or fish in the town?"

Surprisingly a few of the smallfolk answered, having gotten over their fear thanks to seeing the Northmen not retreating from the dragons and the dragons not lashing out "We just got a from further downstream milady, said one man who looked like a fisherman. "Mostly crab and shellfish, if'n that please ye, milady."

Daenerys blinked, looking at her dragons. "They've not had shellfish or crab before, so we'll see." With a hand gesture she sent Sunfyre and Rhaegon into the air, sending them toward the town's small dock, situated on its northeast side. "I'll get them fed and come back quickly to start the trials."

Ranma nodded, yet asked, "But are you going to actually wield the sword?"

That caused Daenerys to pause. That was one aspect of the North that had astonished her, that the man who passed the sentence personally wielded the blade. She liked it too, it showed how serious they were about law and honor. "I will." She said firmly staring into Ranma's eyes. After a moment he nodded, and the two of them split off to begin organizing the trials.

It turned out that both dragons absolutely adored crabs and other shellfish. The crunchiness of the shells and the rubbery nature of the meat were very much to their liking. Wanting to get the two dragons some more exercise, Daenerys ordered the fishermen to let the crabs out into the water of the Trident. Sunfyre and Rhaegon gleefully splashed into the water after them, swimming here and there as they gobbled the crunchy treats up one after another.

This show actually attracted a following of smallfolk, including several dozen of the children from the town, who began to root for Sunfyre or Rhaegon as they chased the crabs down. Smiling Daenerys fielded questions about her little ones, having determined long before this that while the fear of them was a tool, it could also be a rallying point for her enemies, as it had in the past during the Dance of Dragons, when the dragons in the pit in King's Landing were attacked by a mob. She never wanted the dragons to be so hated again, even if they would eventually be used in battle.

Soon enough however the two dragons waddled out of the water, laying down to nap on the riverbank. Daenerys left them there with several of the pages and squires watching them, making certain the smallfolk stayed away. Daenerys and Ser Barristan moved back to the holdfast, ready to start an unpleasant duty.

OOOOOOO

Renly Baratheon was very worried and very angry, but he didn't allow either of those emotions to appear on his face. The news that the Ironborn had assaulted the Arbor and the Shield Islands and actually won was astonishing and very worrying. The fact that the second echelon wasn't as large as he had hoped was also worrying. Gone was his plan to have so large an army that he could simply overawe his opponents. Gone too was the idea of leaving a portion of his army here to keep the blockade of the city going while he turned with the rest to face his brother. They just didn't have the manpower to both retain their cordon around King's Landing and face Stannis's army, not with the kind of force disparity that Renly wanted.

Around him the Stormlands and Reach Lords were muttering angrily, shaking their heads in dismay at the news that Lord Ambrose had shared with them. Their initial responses had been much louder, but Mace had bellowed them down saying that his son had done the right thing, and that he trusted Garlan to be able to handle the Ironborn assault.

That Randyll Tarly agreed with Mace helped quiet most of those murmurs. "Garlan has a good head on his shoulders, and as long as he listens to Lord Hightower on matters pertaining to sea warfare, he'll do well enough."

Renly spoke into the silence after Randyll had finished speaking nodding his head. "Indeed Lord Tyrell your son did right to turn back with such a force. I have no doubt that's Garlan will continue to do his utmost to retake the Arbor and the Shield Islands. After we are done with King's Landing and my brother has been brought to heel we will have to consider what to do about the Iron Islands. This is the second time they have rebelled." Renly put on a serious expression and stared around him as hard as he could. "I think we should make certain that there is not a third occurrence."

Nods of approval from all around him answered Renly's words, even Randyll agreed with that idea. Renly went on thoughtfully. "We might even be able to pay the Lyseni pirate fleet out there to aid us. That and the Royal Fleet would give us naval superiority whatever the Ironborn tried to do to defend their Isles.

"I still say we should pull out some more of our forces and send them back home." Said Lord Dunn, His lands were on the Mander, and he knew all too well what a good route for invasion the river could be for the Ironborn. In point of fact by the time Lord Dunn heard about the invasion his lands already been ravaged, and his keep destroyed. His wife had also been taken as a salt wife and transported back to the Shield Islands.

There was a murmur of approval for that, but Renly held up a hand quickly. "My lords, remember what we have heard from the city. There is a plague in there! We need to keep as much of our army here as possible to keep a lid on the city, we cannot allow any refugees out until the plague is dealt with internally." How such a thing could be accomplished Renly didn't know, nor did he particularly care. He simply wanted to keep the plague inside, and then ride in to claim his throne when it died down enough for it to be safe.

"And there is my brother to consider, we need to retain enough force here to face him as well as cordon off the city. Unless you all have a better method of keeping the population of the city contained, in which case do share it but until then we have to stay put." That this allowed Renly to retain control of the largest army in Westeros was simply a side benefit. 62,000 men should be enough to face any threat.

There was a moment more of grumbling, and Renly could tell that despite the obvious logic of what he had said many of them were still unhappy but there was nothing he could do about it. The plague was nailing his feet here despite the fortifications they had thrown up around the city. And Stannis was out there as well, marching towards the city now.

Still slowly for some reason, it would be at least another week with the rate Stannis was marching. That was astonishing given an army his size could only have taken for five days normally to get from Stokeworth to the capital but now it was moving so slowly it had been on the road from Stokeworth a little under a week and was still that far away.

"Let us turn to other matters my lords." Renly said again nodding his head at Lord Ambrose. "Thank you for your report, and thank you for continuing the march up here my Lord, that will not be forgotten."

As the man beamed more than one Reach Lord shared glances with one another, shaking their heads angrily though Mace was nodding his head ponderously. None of them had as much faith in Garlan as Randyll or Mace did. After all, while he was known to be a fine warrior in the tourney, he had never been challenged as a field commander much like far too many summer knights. And their holdings were in peril from the Ironborn.

More than one man there wondered if they should pull their men out of the Stormlands/Reach army and head back home. But peer pressure was an awful thing, and with the number of lords against that idea they were forced to remain. At least for now. But all of them were prepared to head home as soon as they could.

Renly was not aware of the cracks in his authority spreading like that, and he turned to the two lords in charge of scouting and gathering information from the smallfolk. Originally only Lord Staedmon had been in charge of that, but Lord Cockshaw had proven that he had a good touch with interacting with the smallfolk. That Cockshaw was also being passed messages from Varys was well known to Renly, but Renly considered it simply business as usual, a sign that the Master of Whispers wasn't a Lannister supporter merely someone who wished to retain his own position. "Any news?"

The two men looked at one another and Staedmon waved at his fellow lord to answer first. Cockshaw bowed formally to Renly then looked at him as well as his fellow lords. "News has reached the smallfolk around here of a major battle up in the Riverlands. The lion and the wolves have met, and the Lannisters are in full retreat after suffering a tremendous loss. No one knows any details, except that it was very one-sided, that Ranma Stark and his northerners only took a pittance in casualties while gutting the Lannister forces."

There were some exclamations of astonishment there, including one coming from Randyll. He hadn't really put much truck in the idea of the Stark youth as a general, his father yes, but Ranma? A good warrior, possibly an excellent one given his destruction of the Mountain That Rode, but being a general was a very different thing.

"There are no details of how this was accomplished?" Loras asked. He rarely put himself forward in these meetings any longer, ashamed of his looks even if he and Renly had healed the rift between them somewhat. But this was interesting enough to make him speak up.

"None." Cockshaw replied, shrugging. "Rumor is rarely good for detail, in fact I'd even take the 'one-sided' portion of that report with a grain of salt, but it's certain that the Lannisters lost and are in retreat."

"It might be time to send out an envoy to the Starks." said one Lord from the Reach thoughtfully. "We certainly have an enemy in common and possibly as many as three."

Cockshaw coughed apologetically. "There have also been many more rumors about the Starks having the aide of former Targaryen loyalists. Some rumors out of Duskendale say that Ranma Stark returned with the Stormborn, and she had two young dragons. Those rumors at least are solid…" He trailed off looking around at everyone's faces.

Renly's eyes widened and he too looked around knowing that this news had hit like a jug of wildfire among the lords here. The Reach and its lords had in the majority stayed loyal to the Targaryen Dynasty. They had been ineffectual in that loyalty yet could still be counted among the closet Targaryen loyalists. If there was any truth in the rumors that the dragons themselves had returned, then rather than simply being a symbol for someone else's ambition, the Targaryen girl became a power to be courted.

With that in mind Renly spoke up quickly, an idea forming in his mind. "If that is indeed the case, then we will make overtures to the Starks immediately. I'll send a messenger this very day as soon as we can discuss the wording my lords. However I do not believe that the Targaryen alone should sit on the throne. At least not in this generation. No, they should instead be wedded to the royal line, part of it but not sitting on the throne. Too often those Targaryen members that sit on that throne change over time, becoming mad."

His words had a noted effect among many of his listeners, and more than one Lord found himself nodding remembering not just the Mad King, but those Targaryen members from the Dance of Dragons, and of course Maegor the Cruel, who had ravaged the Reach in his war against the Faithful.

"How so?" said one Lord cocking his head quizzically.

"I note Lord Mace, and that only one of your three sons has married yet." Renly said smiling faintly. "I'm certain if given the choice between fighting for a throne now and guaranteeing her children sitting on the right side of that throne with the full might of the Reach, the Stormlands and apparently the Starks behind such a dynasty, this Stormborn girl will see reason."

Mace look at him then grinned widely as he finally understood what Renly was getting at.

Needless to say, the rumors that Ranma and Daenerys had married had not spread as far as the rumors of the dragons return. If it had, then Renly's idea would never have been taken seriously, especially considering that the Starks were already aiding the Targaryen queen.

Renly once more tried to change the subject, turning to Lord Staedmon. "Lord Mace and I will work on that later, for now, why don't you tell us what my brother is up too."

"He's still moving very slowly my Lord, and seems to be treading lightly on the smallfolk as he has since Stokeworth." Everyone there nodded. The farmland around Stokeworth was well known to be almost as good as that routinely found in the Reach so that made sense. "The weather isn't the cause of their moving so slowly, though I have no idea what is."

It had rained here near King's Landing twice in the last few weeks, light showers that amounted to nothing though they had not helped the general morale of the army. Health wasn't affected, since Lord Randyll had had a hand in each of the creation of the camps scattered around King's Landing. A few troopers were having health issues, but not many.

This was one area where Renly had listened to Lord Randyll from the very beginning, and he had requisitioned every maester and septon of every castle along their route from Highgarden up to King's Landing, as well as any other healers that could be found. Not all of them were as well suited to taking care of the health of the army as others, but the 'quantity approach' had worked so far.

"So we have another week to prepare for his arrival." Renly said with a firm not. "Good, keep your scouts watching his army, I don't want to be surprised if they suddenly speed up or do a forced march to catch us by surprise. Also," he said turning to the Lord in charge of construction projects. "If you could prepare a pavilion well back of our camps, say right outside bow-range of the nearest encampment to my brother's route of march I think that would be a good idea. I've said before, I'll give him one chance to talk and that will need to happen on neutral ground."

After that the meeting wound down, and eventually ended without any further new information coming to their attention. Renly was true to his word, and sent off twenty men with a messenger up to Harroway. Ser Willam Wythers went with them, in fact he had insisted on being part of the party though no one knew why. Behind them that party left a group of lords who were now thinking very hard about the intelligence of continuing to back Renly Baratheon.

OOOOOOO

At the same time that Renly and his army were finally hearing about the return of Daenerys Stormborn and her two dragons, a fleet was rounding Massey's Hook. Every ship flew the three headed red dragon on black of House Targaryen. Their target, Dragonstone. Viserys was a firm believer in symbolism, though his next target would be a much more useful goal.

OOOOOOO

It turned out that there were in fact documented evidence of Lord Roote adding his own taxes to those the townsfolk were already paying, well above the level a Noble House of House Roote's minor standing should've been allowed. Lord Tully's factors should have spotted it years ago, but when talking to the locals who had come forward to give evidence against Lord Roote, he found out that those factors hadn't been seen in Harroway for over ten years. Ranma was forced to put that down to his grandfather's declining health, though there should have still been a formula for his men to follow.

Those and the charges of pillaging from the well-to-do houses before fleeing the city were proven in that first day of hearing, though doing so took a long time. Lord Roote tried to fight them, but the evidence against him was irrefutable on those charges. Unfortunately most of what he had stolen had been turned into liquid capital long before this, stored with a factor in Wickenden, the seat of House Waxley in the Vale. It would take months to get that money back, if it was possible at all. So Ranma made the decision to reimburse a fourth of what Roote had stolen out of his own coffers, which were still glutted thanks to the fall of House Frey and his share of the plunder from the various battlefields.

The charges that he had raped some of the maids and servants however, could not be proven. None of the girls who might have been raped were anywhere in the city, having fled to farms elsewhere, and no one in town knew their locations. Two cases of rape could be substantiated against a group of five of his men, and Ranma ordered them executed immediately, doing the deed himself right there in the holdfast's main hall. It served as a hard reminder for his troops, and showed the townsfolk that justice would be swift. Others, who aided their lord in the pillaging, were sentenced to two years of labor and sent back up to the Ruby Ford with a small guard.

But Lord Roote could not be executed for the crimes that could be proven. Instead Ranma stripped his House of its noble status, and exiled him to the Quiet Isle, a island at the mouth of the Trident devoted to a silent order of brothers of the Faith. Since Tomas Roote was the only member of his house, not having a son and not having married as yet, that was the end of his House. Those of his armsmen absolved of wrongdoing would remain with the army for now.

Of course, this left a power vacuum in the city, which Ranma filled promptly. As the former lord was led off in chains still protesting 'We had a deal', Ranma turned to Ser Blanetree and the townsman named Grimaldi Anderson. As a witness himself he had been sequestered during the trial so he couldn't influence the other smallfolk witnesses, but even so, he had impressed Ranma with his forthright attitude and intelligence.

When he spoke, Ranma kept his voice formal, as he had throughout the trials duration. "Ser Blanetree, I am well aware that my wife promised you the former House Vypren lands after the war in repayment. Would you prefer to retain your original lands and gain a stake of fifty percent of Harroway?"

"You can't break up a town like it's some kind of, of cow!" Grimaldi said before he could stop himself. At this breach of the hearing's etiquette Ranma's eyes stared into the older man, causing him to shuffle his feet and move back slightly.

After a moment though, Ranma smiled. "I did not mean the town itself Grimaldi, I meant the proceeds from a new set of taxes, which we will work on after this trial is concluded. It will not be onerous for the next few years, to aid the town in rebuilding, and indeed, I hope growing in the future. Ser Blanetree?"

Ser Blanetree had used that moment to think, and he replied in the affirmative. "I would prefer to retain my original lands my lord, and I thank you for trusting me as one of your voices here." He had noticed that fifty percent bit, and knew Ranma was planning something there.

"Excellent." Ranma turned to Grimaldi, with a wide smirk on his face, and suddenly the former tradesman felt a shiver go down his spine. "Grimaldi Anderson, you have proven yourself to be an intelligent and insightful man, and your grasp of Harroway and its people is obvious. Moreover, those same people seemingly trust you, and look to you for leadership. I think that myself, and my grandfather and uncle when we secure his release, could use such a man here. Would you be willing to act as our local voice?"

Grimaldi gaped at him, knowing that eventually such a position might bring his family into the realms of the minor nobility. However he hadn't organized his minor rebellion against the Lannister garrison for personal power. "You realize if you give me that kind of power, I would look out for the welfare of the townsfolk and the town before serving your needs?" He asked bluntly, having realized during the trial that Ranma Stark preferred blunt speech.

As the other lords present stirred angrily, Ranma laughed aloud. "And that good ser is precisely why I'd give you the job."

"In that case, I accept the commission my lord." Grimaldi said.

"Excellent, and for your first job, you and Ser Blanetree are going to sit down and look at the taxes on the books here in Harroway." Ranma smiled grimly. "A thankless task, but one which needs to be done now."

OOOOOOO

Elsewhere Myrcella had arrived at the sept, and quickly took over the smallfolk attempting to get themselves some medical attention. The sept was apparently run normally by one very overworked elderly septon who looked old enough to be a great grandfather at least, aided young brothers who didn't have any healing knowledge at all outside of a few droughts to deaden pain or how to put a poultice on. The town didn't even have a maester, Lord Roote hadn't had one for his keep which unfortunately meant that no one around here was very good at healing outside the smallest level.

However this group was helped by another septon when Myrcella arrived and she stared at him in shock. "Septon Sparrow? What are you doing here?"

"Doing what I can to care for my flock young princess." The old man said looking up at her through stern eyes. He gently touched a rosary hung around his neck which Myrcella hadn't seen him wear before but she didn't see any significance about it. "I have little in the way of healing knowledge, but I am guided by my faith and I have two strong hands. As such I will serve as I may."

"Good, then you might know where the local well is, we'll need several buckets worth of heated water." She nodded over to George who nodded back and moved towards the old septon. "Please go with George here to get some."

Father Sparrow looked a little disconcerted at being ordered about like that, but went off readily enough. Myrcella moved towards several women in one corner who looked as if they had been beaten in the past, already barking out orders to a few of her helpers who had followed her to get her specific salves and poultices.

Over the next few hours Septon Sparrow watched as Myrcella went through the backlog of injured and abused smallfolk. In comparison to the wounded after a battle it was almost pathetically easy for her, not any less distressing, but easy. No one here had lost limbs, or needed desperate, last minute stitching to save their lives. The young Baratheon princess served them all equally, man, woman, well-to-do and poor looking made it didn't matter to her, a sign of egalitarianism that most healers would never get away with.

Ranma showed up at one point after finally clearing up the issue with Lord Roote. After greeting Merry with his now habitual one-sided hugged Ranma asked her "What was it like before you got here? Were the local septons well-trained?

"Not trained at all!" Myrcella said angrily. "There was no maester here, and most of the local healers ran off, and the ones that remained aren't the best. Oh there were a few locals who knew how to heal broken arms or legs and bruises and cuts, but ribs? Shoulders? Deep cuts or more serious wounds, or ailments beyond the common flu no! At least Lord Roote kept the city clean enough using the River, and it was never it as crowded as King's Landing is, thankfully."

"But worse is the fact the local midwife apparently ran off the moment the rumor of the Lannister's coming towards the town got here. One of the local drover's wife's tried to step into the role but they lost three women and their babies since the Lannister's took over the town. And five men who had head injuries at various points. Even I would've had trouble with most of those, though maester Cresson, the maester from House Wayn who decided to join the army, he could've handled them."

Ranma winced at that, shaking his head sadly at the loss of life especially in that manner. Myrcella went on, not commenting on his wince as she knew what that was about, squeezing his hand affectionately. It always astonished her after watching him in battle how gentle Ranma was outside of it. Then again when you're as strong as he is you can afford to be gentle I suppose. "Really I would've liked to see a Maester here, and a few students at least in a town this size. It's actually larger than Fairmarket was before the influx of refugees."

"But Fairmarket had the same issue, no dedicated healers. After this war Merry, we need to found some kind of up Healing Hall. A separate profession from Maesters and the Faith, that can both provide medical attention to people and can continue to expand medical understanding. The Citadel and the maesters are supposed to do that, but they really don't get it out to the people well enough, and when they do it's always first to the nobles, the smallfolk only get a trickle-down effect from that."

"That is a magnificent idea Ranma, especially with winter coming. Nutrition and disease in particularly fevers will be a major factor when winter comes."

Ranma squeeze Merry around the shoulders again chuckling quietly. "Took the words right out of my mouth Merry. You could be a Stark with the way you recognize the coming of winter. I could wish more of these southern lords understood that."

Myrcella blushed rosily, taking a moment to rest her head against Ranma shoulder before pushing him away. "Get on with you, I've still got some more work to do here. Oh, I might be taking on one or two more helpers when we leave."

"That's fine, have them read or read the written contract Patrek made up, then I'll have him release their first payment to them before we leave."

Septon Sparrow moved towards Ranma as he made his way back towards the doorway. "Your Majesty." he said bowing formally.

Ranma looked at him, not having noticed Septon Sparrow before and now looked astonished to see the man here. A single man covering the distance between Fairmarket and Harroway over the past two weeks? Ranma wouldn't have given 50 to 1 odds that he would be able to get through. He was about to question that when he noticed what was around the older man's neck. Myrcella might not have recognized it, but Ranma did. He reached out with slow hand to tap the rosary set, which was made of finger bones. "And this is, father?"

"The bones of septas and septons who have died in this war your highness." Septon sparrow said staring into Ranma size. "Martyrs every one of them."

"I see. I might not follow the Faith of the Seven Septon, but as my wife and I said in Fairmarket, we belief in the freedom of choice, and I'm not blind to the good work that the followers of the faith with the smallfolk both here and elsewhere. I could wish that your martyrs and those they died serving could have been saved, but…" Ranma shrugged. "I am many things, a miracle worker I am not."

"I was going to ask you how you got here Septon, but I think I'll simply shake your hand and wish you well if you're going to continue to travel the lands like this. I hope to start putting the Riverlands in order in another two months most, but until then I couldn't guarantee your safety except possibly from here to the Neck."

"Alas I am not moving in that direction at all." Sparrow said shrugging his shoulders. "I am a servant of the Seven your highness, and no one ever told me that it was an easy road to take. I am moving towards the Crownlands, much of it has not been despoiled yet, but there are rumors of Lord Stannis that coincidentally match which you told me about Shadow Warriors you said you fought on the ship. Most disturbing that Stannis Baratheon has seemingly taken up with Heathen Essosi scum."

"I wouldn't say that last bit when my wife is around." Ranma said laughing lightly but with his eyes serious. "In my opinion magic is just another tool. It is not inherently evil, but the deeds it can be put to make it so just like any weapon."

Septon Sparrow looked at him, as if thinking through his words very carefully then shrugged his shoulders responding in a neutral tone. "On that we will have to agree to disagree, Your Majesty."

"I'd also warn you if you run into any other kings and queens out there not to speak to them as you did my wife and I." Ranma said have seriously half in jest. "We're far more easy-going and certain of ourselves than most. Our power comes from who we are not the panoply of a crown, but others are much more aware of their dignity."

Sparrow laughed suddenly shaking his head. "I do not make a habit of rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful my lord, my work has always been with the faithful of the smallfolk, the folk of Hill and dale, of farm, village and town. They are the people who cook your food, who harvest your crops, who make your clothing and your weapons and steel. The true backbone of the nation, though few Lords would acknowledge it."

"I do." Ranma said simply laughing as well before going on more seriously. "Be careful out there old man, Westeros needs more people like you and they can ill afford the loss of even one." Reaching out he gripped the other older man's shoulder for a moment before turning and exiting the sept.

Septon Sparrow watched Ranma go, then turned to watch Myrcella, exchanging laughing words with a young girl whose arm she was setting while the mother looked on a faint smile on her face though she looked more bemused than anything. It was evident she recognized who Myrcella was and was astonished to see a Lannister princess here taking care of the smallfolk. It was like the old tale of Baelor the Blessed.

She was not the only one making that connection. Septon Sparrow's mind was hard at work even as he moved forward to help a man carrying in another man whose leg was bleeding heavily around a makeshift bandage.

For decades there had been a movement among the Faith of the Seven to reform the Church, but it had never really gained momentum. Even if you were part of that reform movement, the higher you went in the church's hierarchy, the more corrupt you were forced to become to keep your own power base let alone actually accomplish anything. The council of Most Devout were corrupt, everyone knew it, but doing something about it was much tougher. Because it wasn't just the Most Devout, or even the High Septon, it was practically every high ranking septon and septa in every city below the Neck. (The Faithful of House Manderly and White Harbor were a group apart, and had been for thousands of years) Without the septons of the cities and the greater religious orders beyond the Penitent Brothers on their side, the reform movement could never gain any traction.

In wartime however, that was no longer the case. The official organization of the church was gone. King's Landing was utterly cut off, while Petyr and the eunuch were able to get messages out, that was a skill that the Most Devout and the High Septon did not have. With them no longer at the top of the church's hierarchy that had allowed several of the other cities to step up. Lannisport could not, busy with internal issues. Oldtown could not, always at war as they were with the Tower. And none of the other cities were big enough or their septons and septa as experienced enough to do the job.

That had allowed the errant and country-based septons, the ones who were at the heart of the reformist movement to begin to step up their own game. And they had, but they ran into problems, beyond of course the purely physical of needing to deal with refugees, actual battles, and other dangers to their flocks. The main problem was, that none of the Kings seemed at first glance to be worth convincing their flocks to back.

At first glance the two Baratheon brothers should have been. Not only was Stannis a person who believed in the rule of law and precedent, he was also his brother's heir if Joffrey indeed was not legitimate. But this was more than countered by the fact that he was now a follower of a heathen religion, and the priestess of said religion was a magic user who seemed to loath the Seven.

Many of the faithful from the Reach thought at first that Renly should've been their chosen champion, that they should've begun to preach to their followers about him being the chosen King but that was argued against strongly by the septons who had actually met the man, led by the septon of Storm's End. While Renly was personable, intelligent and always careful to remain popular with the smallfolk, that wasn't the same as being a champion of the Faithful. His own morals were in question, not just the rumors about his relationship with Loras Tyrell which had begun to spread since the war began, aided by the agents of both Petyr and Varys.

The Lannister's chosen King Joffrey had been chosen by the Most Devout and the High Septon as their champion, despite the little bastard pressing a polygamy clause for the king into law. Needless to say, he was even less suitable as a king in the eyes of the reformist faithful than the two Baratheon brothers. That was despite the very thin reason that convinced the High Septon to go along with it, the idea of converting the North. The more intelligent among the faithful knew that would never happen. It hadn't for thousands of years, to assume it would suddenly change was the height of folly.

That left only the heathen of the North and his Dragon Queen, a woman who while having been anointed by the seven holy oils when she was younger certainly hadn't followed the Faith since. On the other hand I've actually met them and seen their deeds Septon Sparrow thought as he used firewine to wipe away at the wound on the man's leg, ignoring his screams. Others might preach kindness and attempt to gain popular support, but the two of them have actually gone out of their way and done it.

I know who I think should be king, and who the Faithful should begin to back. Now all that remains is to convince the rest of the reformist party of the same thing. Later that day, Septon Sparrow left Harroway, heading south and east to the ancient sept of Peasedale to meet with his fellows septons on that issue.

OOOOOOO

Later that evening Daenerys sat at the front of the long table in the dining hall of the holdfast, flexing her hands wearily. Ranma smiled wanly at her, reaching over to knead her hands with both of his. "I've always felt there's something about wielding the sword for an execution that makes it weigh more than it does during a battle." Ranma could fight all day and had and not really feel tired at the end, but even a few hours of residing over trials and executions had exhausted him.

"Seeing as I haven't wielded a blade in battle that often I can't comment on that. I'm just happy most of the trials were so simple to officiate." Daenerys replied, twining her fingers with her husbands.

Splitting the work between them had allowed them to go through the entire remaining Westerlands garrison here in the town, and they had found only nine men that could not be indicted on counts of rape, arson, theft or outright murder. Those nine men had been stripped of their weapons, then placed in a prisoners cart to be taken up to the Ruby Ford to join their fellows there. They had been glad to go considering what had happened before Ranma and his men stormed into the town, as well as the executions that occurred after.

"It turns out that the spy did indeed tell the local garrison commander about the dragons," Domeric was saying as Daenerys came back to the here and now. "He and his sub commanders, five knights apparently, all left with the spy ostensibly to meet with Sir Tywin and discussed future options, and amazingly the reality of the dragons didn't actually get out beyond rumors from further south until we arrived."

Alayaya nodded from where she sat next to him. "It isn't that the smallfolk here have pleasant memories of dragons or anything of that nature your highness, but the panic of the garrison simply allowed them the opportunity to strike out against their oppressors. I would recommend we keep the dragons out of the city entirely from now on. Despite Sunfyre saving that boy this afternoon many of the families here remember tales of dragonfire. The original Harroway town was burned down by a dragon apparently."

"Vhagar, last of the original three." Daenerys said nodding. "I remember that from my family history, it happened during the Dance of the Dragons. Her rider was the kinslayer Aemond. A boy that should never have been allowed to ride the dragon in the first place, the tales of him remind me all too much of my own brother."

"I know we need to stay here for a while to put the town in order, but are we going to let the troops have some time in the city?" asked Rickard.

"What do you think Domeric?" Daenerys asked looking over at the man.

"I think that would be a very bad idea your grace." Domeric replied swiftly. "These people have spent months under the lash of the Lannisters, and many of them see armed men of any sort as the enemy. Ranma and yourself scored a major coup with them when you held open trials of the men you captured and even more when you imprisoned Lord Roote, but the euphoria of that will pass quickly.

Alayaya nodded. "And let's face it, our army has fought and marched for weeks, and with your rules about not allowing camp followers the men haven't had any way to let out certain urges. Troops often get out of control and barracks, and I think that that would be the case here."

"Then let's move the army through the town and bivouac them on the other side. We'll let you and your men in place Wendel, as a visible police force." Ranma decided, nodding his head to the second son of Lord Manderly, who nodded back. "When we pull out we'll also leave a force of the pikemen from White Harbor here, they should get along better with the locals than most of our northern troops. We'll rotate some of the men through the town and let them get some beer in them and visit the brothels, but I'll want the unit commanders and all of you, my lords, telling the troops my rules about rape, arson and theft every day."

All of the lords and commanders there nodded, and Ranma nodded back before standing up, pulling Daenerys up with him. "Now if you'll excuse us my lords, it has been a long few weeks since my wife and I were able to have some privacy." That statement made most of the lords break out in laughter as Daenerys chuckled, but did not protest Ranma's lack of propriety, her own eyes glinting in eagerness.

OOOOOOO

"And I tell you, the Arbor is gone, the fucking Ironborn took it!" Said one man to another standing on a quay in Pentos. "That means the wines in my hold will be worth far more than you're trying to pay me."

"Bah!" said the man he was talking to, significantly older looking and somewhat overweight as well. They'll never hold it, the Arbor is too large and too important to the rest of the Reach. We might face a few months of scarcity, but not enough to drive up the price of the Arbor's wine to what you're asking for it. There are other wine merchants in the town my friend, if you don't want to trade with me at the price we already agreed to, you're free to try any of them."

The first man scowled, and the two began to haggle back and forth until they finally agreed on a price. The price was nowhere near the amount the captain of a wine ship had initially asked for, but it was still somewhat larger than he could normally have demanded for his wine.

The captain was soon moving back through the docks towards his ship intent on giving the crew their pay before rustling up another cargo for his ship when a hand clamped on his shoulder. He turned to give the man who had accosted him an earful and paused as he stared into the one eye of the man who had done so. He was a tall man, with the look of warrior about him, with a cascade of black hair to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore an eyepatch over one eye.

There was something him off about the man's one-eyed gaze, something that froze the captain's heart.

"Excuse me friend, I couldn't help but overhear your interesting bit of news about the Arbor. I was wondering if you could tell me more about that?"

OOOOOOO

The next day Ranma practically bounced as he left the room that he and Daenerys had commandeered for the night. He almost ran into Myrcella and one of the keep's maids, both of whom took one look at him and began to blush hotly. Behind them Fenris led the two dragons behind Merry, growling occasionally when Sunfyre or Rhaegon looked at the maid or passerby as if they were contemplating attacking them.

The two dragons were not quite violent to any non-Targaryen adult that came near them, but it was a near thing sometimes, and it was slowly getting worse. Luckily children were still safe around them. Rhaegon might not like them much, but he wouldn't attack them, and Sunfyre seemed to like the attention he got, so long as the children in question didn't smell too badly. Their respect for the direwolves however hadn't disappeared, which allowed Fenris to control them somewhat when Daenerys wasn't around.

The maid was carrying a tray of food, simple fare but plentiful, which began to shake as her arms did. "That looks good. Hello Myrcella, how are you doing this lovely morning?"

"Apparently not as good as you." she replied tartly, shoving his shoulder lightly with one of her hands. "And the food isn't for you, you big lummox. I've no doubt you wore Daenerys out again."

Ranma had the decency to flush a little pulling at his ponytail. "Might have…" he muttered looking away.

The maid kept blushing and staring at him. Ranma and Daenerys had been even louder than normal last night, and many of the servants had heard them, including when Daenerys began to verbally urge Ranma on in certain acts (and vice versa). The fact the noises had continued almost the entire night was somewhat astonishing to all of them, from the experienced to the inexperienced.

"There's some breakfast ready downstairs, you can go get your own. Shoo!" Myrcella replied firmly, flapping her hands at Ranma as if he were a duck. Ranma laughed and walked off, leaving Merry to open the door to his andDaenerys' room. As she had expected Daenerys was still asleep, splayed out naked on the bed, the sheets, which looked ruined to Merry's eyes, bunched up nearby.

Behind Myrcella, Sunfyre and Rhaegon entered the room quickly moving towards their mistress before snuffling and turning away from the bed to curl up nearby. Their sense of smell was nowhere near that of a direwolf, but there was something about the smell of human sex that threw them off a little. They would wait until their mistress was back to smelling pleasant before greeting her.

The almost comatose girl cracked one bleary eye open to stare up at Myrcella, then at the tray the servant was holding. She muttered something that could've been "lifesaver"Myrcella before waving a single finger at the table next to the bed.

Myrcella laughed, letting the servant put the tray down before ushering the girl out of the room and turning back to Daenerys. She sat down next to the young woman, absently patting her naked back. "I think you really need to teach Ranma the meaning of restraint."

"Wanted it." Daenerys muttered into her pillow. "Couldn't stop myself. Couldn't stop him. Too long since the last time."

Myrcella nodded, looking around at the state of the sheets the bed and a few patches on a tapestry on one wall which had been splashed with something and ripped as if by someone's nails halfway up its length. "I think you made up for lost time." she said dryly. "Either you need to work on your endurance, or he needs to work on his restraint, choose one. What if you had a meeting or something you couldn't put off, would you show up like this?"

There was a low, angry growl from the depths of the pillow, causing Merry to laugh. After a moment she reached over to the tray, picking up a small steaming mug of tea. "I have your Moon tea here, I think…" she said now looking and flushing hotly at this state of Daenerys's lower regions. "That you need it."

It was odd, Merry thought to herself, waiting for Daenerys to respond, how calm she was about this. Most women who had fallen for a man would have been jealous or possibly enraged at seeing another woman with him, or like in this instance, the aftereffects of said. But Merry didn't. She found it erotic as all get out, like those small, extremely expensive tomes from Dorne that a few of the ladies of the court had that she wasn't supposed to know about. But there wasn't jealousy in Merry, she couldn't be jealous, not after seeing how happy Daenerys made Ranma. Merry knew she still loved him, but she also knew that alone she would never have made him as happy as he was with Daenerys.

After realizing Daenerys was in danger of falling asleep, Merry moved one hand to help push Daenerys over onto her back, and the Targaryen woman looked at her blearily then slowly she nodded, a sudden look of fear flitting across her face as the memory of last night came back to her. She had been in no mood to let Ranma pull out last night, and he had come inside of her three or possibly even four times, she had lost count somewhere in there and they still couldn't afford for her to be with child yet.

Her little ones needed her around to control them, though if they won the Riverlands they could send for Bran or let Jon try his hand at warging with the dragons. Daenerys thought long and hard about that, and had decided that she had been foolish not see the opportunity of having someone else around that could control her dragons. It was a weakness, not just in their strategy flexibility, but in her as well. She could no longer afford to fear the loss of the power base her dragons gave her. No, her fears were much more personal than that.

With Myrcella's help she sat up, which set her breasts could jiggling slightly. Merry glanced down, and Daenerys blinked a little at seeing a spark of something there for a moment before Merry directed her eyes upwards once more. With one arm around the older woman, Merry brought the moon tea up to her lips, allowing her to sip slowly, though at first Daenerys had tried to gulp the moon tea down before Merry pulled it away for a moment. Her face was thoughtful now as she looked at Daenerys quizzically. "What's wrong?"

Daenerys tried to shake her head, leaning forward to try and get at the moon tea again, but Merry removed it once again when she tried to gulp the hot liquid down again. "Easy Daenerys, it's not going anywhere. Honestly, what's wrong, you really look worried about something."

After a few moments of sipping at the tea, Daenerys hesitantly responded. "According to what I remember being told when I was younger, my mother had trouble with each of her pregnancies, and such things tend to be passed on. It, I am, I am not looking forward to tempting fate there."

Merry frowned, all too easily remembering how the town's septa had told her about the women who had died in childbirth here of late. "I can understand that. If you're worried about that kind of thing, I would suggest sending to the Citadel for an expert or perhaps to one of the Free Cities. I understand that they have several medical techniques that the Citadel derides for one reason or another. I'm afraid that's one area my own knowledge is sadly lacking in."

"That's not a bad idea, thank you." Daenerys said before going back to sipping her moon tea, leaning her head lightly against Merry's shoulder. The two continued to talk quietly for a time, simply enjoying having a moment to relax with no demands on their time before a knock on their door signaled the world had need of them once more.

OOOOOOO

While Daenerys and Merry were talking, Ranma had headed downstairs to see what he could find for breakfast before getting to grips with the day's workload. While he was walking down the stairs however, he was hailed by one of the army's messenger boys. "Milord, the camp's guards have reported seeing a rider has arrived with a message for, um 'the Queen and her consort'. They um, they told me to pass on the words he used."

"Interesting wording." Ranma muttered laughing slightly. He remembered however that House Darry was one of the houses that remained loyal to the Targaryen cause during Robert's Rebellion. It makes sense they'd think that way I suppose. We'll disabuse them of that notion quickly, though. "Ask the guards to escort him to us please. Oh, and send a maid up to my wife please."

The messenger turned out to be a knight in full armor, an older man thin of face with white hair and beard. He bowed floridly to both of them, though he looked a bit askance at Ranma sitting next to Daenerys like an equal.

Merry and several of the maids had been able to get Daenerys to at least look normal so long as she didn't move much, despite her exhaustion and sore muscles. She had winced slightly when she sat down though, which nearly made Ranma laugh aloud as he remembered one of the positions they had tried out last night. Her answering glare did nothing to get rid of his smirk despite her best attempts.

"Your highness." he said bowing his head further to Daenerys. "We have long wished for the return of House Targaryen. When word of the dragons being seen in the sky reached us at Darry last night, we overthrew the small garrison that the Lannisters had forced upon usafter which I rode here immediately. My Lord was injured in that battle, so could not come to see you personally, but I am here to pledge the House Darry and its lands to you."

"Tell me, didn't Darry also pledge themselves to the Lannisters?" Ranma said leaning forward coolly. "You and your Lord swore to follow them and the bastard, and I say the word with feeling, who currently sits on the Iron Throne. Why should we believe this sudden change of heart?"

For a moment the knight's eyes didn't move from Daenerys' face, but she simply stared back at him coldly. Ranma laughed darkly. "Don't keep looking at Daenerys as if she's going to override me on this, we're both equals in this relationship, and she agrees with me in asking that." Daenerys nodded firmly despite her weariness, her violet eyes narrowing.

The knight licked suddenly dry lips but gamely answered. "Well your majesties, I would say it is easy to bow your neck when you fear being forced to your knees. You act as if we had a choice. If we had not, we would've been destroyed."

"Or, you could have joined your men to those that fought at the Kneeling Man's Ford, and beaten the Lannisters there. With more men there Vypren might not have betrayed the defenders, and without that Tywin might not have won." Ranma said equably. "Or even have declared neutrality and held up in your castle, which I understand is small but well made. Instead your entire house bowed your heads to the house that is keeping your Lord Paramount's heir prisoner under contrived charges, and we've heard you sent men to help besiege Raventree Hall."

"To put it bluntly Ser Knight, we have no reason to trust you, and every reason not to. You're house seems to go where the wind blows, and now that it is blowing in our favor you seem to think you can simply change side as easily as I would pick up a hat." Daenerys said coldly. Behind her Sunfyre stirred, raising his head to look at the knight over his mistresses shoulder.

"Very well, you may join us, but only on our terms, and you will pay for first following the Lannisters. And know that we will be continuing to watch you my Lord." Ranma went on for his wife grimly.

He clapped his hands, and Cley appeared next to him, holding a small piece of parchment tied with a string and marked with the new royal seal, the faces of a dragon and wolf merged side by side. "These are the terms to give your Lord. My army will be continuing its march down the Kingsroad to the River Road soon enough, which will place us very near Darry. You have until we arrive to make your decision."

Despite the almost contemptible tones the knight had no recourse but to return to Darry with this new message, and his Lord flew into a rage. He had been expected to be rewarded, not vilified, which was rather shortsighted of him. After all, once a turncoat people began to assume you were simply a turncoat. Moreover, while Daenerys felt she could look to the Houses that backed her family during Robert's Rebellion for support, she wasn't willing to trust them, since their oaths were to their Lord Paramount and threw him to the crown.

However it was a proven fact that Darry could not stand against them. He didn't have enough men on hand, at best his house had only around 500 armsmen at the best of times, and half of them were at Raventree Hall with the besieging force there. And the dragons utterly terrified Lord Darry. Moreover the terms were not nearly as bad as they could've been and he knew it.

The terms allowed him to retain his armsmen and castle, as well as all the lands of his house to the South, Southeast and Southwest of his castle. He only lost the lands directly north towards Harroway, which were going to initially be ceded directly to the crown as another area of Crown lands. So in general terms, he was getting off very lightly. He also might gain more land south of his castle from here on,, depending on how well he helped supply Ranma's army. Some people however were never satisfied, and Lord Darry was one of them, which was why he did not tell Daenerys that he was in contact with her brother.

OOOOOOO

Victarion frowned thoughtfully looking through his Myrish glass. Not one for deep thoughts, he was however an excellent tactician, and could tell that the castle farther up the Mander was a much tougher proposition than the castles he had already taken since opening up the fat belly of the Reach. A few on the Shield Islands were tougher, but each of them had weaknesses that could be exploited, and hadn't been nearly as ready as their fleet for combat. This one, only the small size of it could be seen as a weakness, though the fact it looked to be threatening rain today could also be an advantage.

He stood on the prowl of the Iron Victory, staring ahead thoughtfully for a moment then nodded. "Begin!"

When his first mate gave the signal, four longboats that had been anchored all around the Iron Victory pulled up their anchors. Then they began to move up river under oars and sails, the wind behind them for the moment.

Behind them the other fourteen longboats that Victarion had gathered for this assault waited, each of them resting easily at anchor. Here the Mander was deep with a silt covered floor which would've told any farmer the reason behind the fertility of the soil hereabouts. The Ironborn however cared not for that only that the river was deep enough to let them anchor here for a few moments with their numbers spread out further down the river. Only the Iron Victory and the four ships that had just moved past it should be within sight of the defenders right now.

Behind him Victarion heard a distant voice began to bellow commands, and he knew that the captains of the other longships were getting anxious. He turned, his helm on his head giving him an even more fearsome appearance than normal. Though his leg had yet to fully recover from the wound he had taken against Ser Talbert Serry he was still the most fearsome fighter among the Ironborn, evidenced by the fact that he continued to wear full plate mail when even Ironborn would only wore chain.

From within his helm he glared out at the two longships that had begun to lift their anchors and were beginning to move forward in line. The Mander was so wide that two or even three longships could move abreast if they were careful and not using their oars. Their captains saw him standing there glaring at them, and quickly, like unruly children, ordered their crews to stop.

Order once more restored Victarion turned back to view the battle nodding with satisfaction under his helm as he began to see splashes of water around the ships he had sent forward as the defenders' scorpion bolts slammed into the water. "Send in the second group."

OOOOOOO

Margaery knew that she wasn't a warrior and she had only a basic understanding of combat. Ranma had insisted she get some training with a dagger, and she had spent a few hours exercising with him, Sansa and even young Merry (though quite reluctantly in that case). However that did not make her a master of weapons, or of battle and she knew it. She could however use a bow quite well, having hunted geese and other birds many a time when she was younger. Now she was standing at one of the arrow slits set into the wall of the keep facing the Mander when the longships began their attack.

The castellan of the keep had tried to get her to hide somewhere in the Lords Chambers, but Margaery had refused. "The idea of not seeing my end coming, of not being able to effect events, is anathema to me." She said quietly but very, very firmly. "I am no warrior, but I will still take part in the battle." Something in her gaze had stifled the man's protests and he had retreated into his own office rather than taking part in the battle.

Margaery sighted along the arrow set to her bow then fired quickly. Her first arrow missed her target, smacking into the wood of the longship's deck to one side. The next shot however took her target in the shoulder, punching through his very badly made ring mail armor there. He went down with a cry, and Margaery smiled thinly. "You will not find this rose so easy to pick you Ironborn dogs!"

That won her a cheer from the archers sharing this guard room with her.

Sighting along another arrow she frowned suddenly. Those ships weren't firing back. They were moving along the water directly in front of the keep but they weren't trying to get close enough to throw grapples, instead they were simply sailing on.

Even so, they were still taking heavy fire from the defenders. One ship suddenly listed, struck near the prow of the ship by a scorpion bolt. Another ship was struck by two scorpion bolts in quick succession. One bolt took out its mast high up sending the furled sails crashing down among the crew to their screams of pain. The other slammed into the deck at the far back of the ship where the steersman had been previously.

Despite this the longships began to move up river of Oldflowers. She gasped in astonishment. Are they going to ignore the bait? Her question was answered a second later when a shout from above reached her ears here on the third floor. "More longships coming up river!"

Leaving her place at her own murder hole Margaery raced across to another one that was on the corner of the keep facing down River. Four more longships had appeared on the horizon, coming on swiftly under the power of oars heading up river. They moved much faster than the first group, so fast it obviously took the defenders up top by surprise as evidenced by another shout. "Get scorpions one and two turned around again, Stranger damn you!"

Before the scorpions could turned around and begin to fire on their new targets the first of the new ships was within bow range, and they began to fire on the keep's rooftop. The angle was such that aimed fire was almost impossible, so they were trying to simply lay down a heavy enough barrage to keep the defender's heads down. Thanks to the well-made parapet and the height of the keep however this failed, and the archers on the top and all around Margaery began to fire back.

That first ship kept going, as two more ships came up behind it, both of which in turn also began to lay down a heavy fire. It occurred to Margaery then that these ships seemed to have more archers then she would've expected in an Ironborn crew. Archery wasn't something the islands were known for, Theon notwithstanding.

These two ships however were armed with fire arrows and began to fire up onto the keep, trying to set the scorpions there on fire. Judging by the shouts that Margaery heard, this tactic was proving successful. Tossing her bow to a nearby page who was assigned to bring new quivers to the archers she raced out shouting "A bucket chain, organize a bucket chain!"

She raced down grabbing every servant she could find organizing them into a line to bring up buckets of dirt and water from the well set into the floor of the kitchen. Once that was done Margaery raced up onto the roof with the first bucket in her hands. There she found that two of the scorpions had been set alight while the other two had already been doused with the buckets of water and dirt that had already been placed on the roof.

She raced forward towards the scorpion that looked like it had been hit with the least fire arrows, knowing that the other was a too far gone to save. She also shouted at the archers. "What you waiting for, give them some of their own medicine back!" Even as dozens of archers turned from their places on the wall to help out with the bucket chain, others hurriedly prepared their own fire arrows.

OOOOOOO

Victarion nodded grimly satisfied and what he was seeing so far. One ship sunk with all hands since even with his Iron Price bought looking glass he didn't see anyone trying to swim for the riverbank. Another that seemed to have taken heavy losses. That was a small price to pay for the destruction of one possibly, two scorpions if his lookout was right about the amount of smoke he could see from the top of the keep.

He watched as the boats of the second group anchored directly in front of the keep's walls, becoming stable platforms for the archers on them. Those archers had been taken from every other crew that was part of this battle and placed on those ships for the duration. There had been some grumbling about that, but not a lot. If Victarion's plan succeeded, there would be more than enough plunder for everyone and if it didn't then it was going to be on Victarion's head, not the captains who allowed their crews to be broken up like that.

He frowned suddenly as fire arrows began to streak out from the keep towards the ships that had anchored. Almost immediately the fire from those ships lessened somewhat, as men quickly turned to put out their fires under the leadership of the captains. That would not stop the Ironborn, they were no strangers to fighting with fire but it would decrease their own arrow assault.

"Signal the crews that have already gone ashore to begin their attack." he said smiling grimly. "Let's split their attention further."

OOOOOOO

Margaery wiped soot from her face as she let the bucket she had been holding fall to the stone of the keep's roof beneath her. They had managed to save one of the scorpion said been set on fire, but another had joined the first two. That one and the one that Margaery had written off before were both damaged beyond repair even if their fires on them had been put out.

Glancing quickly over the top of the roof she could see one longship had been set ablaze despite the best efforts of the crew.

That had more to do with the fact that a lucky arrow had found the captain of that ship than anything else. While Ironborn crews were more disciplined than most would imagine they could be given the Ironborn society, it was a very rickety sort of organization. Remove the captain, and the first mates position was very tenuous on most Ironborn crews and if he didn't have the coxswain or other crew members on his side before the captains death, he would have a very hard time exerting his authority, especially in the battle.

Another ship had taken so many losses to their archers that it had fallen silent completely, simply drifting at anchor.

But the losses among the defenders were bad as well. A dozen men were down at least, and as Margaery watched another took an arrow in the eye pitching silently over the side of the parapet surrounding the keeps rooftop.

A lookout down on the wall of the keep that moved away from the riverbank suddenly shouted "Ironborn troops coming from the south!"

Nearby Igon Vyrwel cursed. "These Ironborn are tougher than I expected my lady." he said staring over at Margaery. When he had first seen her coming up onto the roof he had been appalled, but there had been no time mid-battle to spare men to take her back allow, and her organization abilities had proven worthwhile in any event. There was also, and this was a thought he would never say aloud, something to be said for a lady who was willing to get her hands dirty in an emergency.

They've conquered the Shield Islands and the Harbor, and they did tremendous damage in their last rebellion." Margaery said sternly looking back at him. "If you have been underestimating these curs, stop doing so now!"

"It was not their toughness or battle prowess I was questioning, it was their ability at tactics." Igon Vyrwel said moving over to where he could stare over the wall at the incoming mass of infantry. Arrows from the keep's walls began to slash into the group almost as soon as they came within range, and they didn't seem to have nearly as many archers as the ships.

They did however have a few large makeshift wooden barricades which could protect them from arrows. "I want dozen of archers over here, ignore the ships for now." he ordered and several archers turned from where they had been firing at the ships in the river to take the army assaulting the walls under fire from a higher position than even the keeps wall could provide.

The makeshift palisades couldn't protect enough of the Ironborn from such angled fire and dozens began to fall. But the rest kept going, tossing up their grapples and beginning to try to pull themselves up the walls, spreading out to cover all of the landward walls of the castle.

OOOOOOO

"Time for us to join the battle." said Victarion smiling thinly. His first mates and the rest of the Iron Victory's crew all shouted aloud gleefully and Victarion pointed downriver with his acts. "Forward! For the Drowned God!"

Above them the sky finally opened up and rain began to fall on the battlefield. This of course did not cool any ones ardor for combat, but it did put a damper on the fire arrows of both sides.

The Iron Victory led the way up river quickly with the remaining seven longships of this attack behind it, the others remaining behind at anchor, their crews having already been committed ashore. The Iron Victory and another ship slowed down and drifted to the sides of the river allowing their fellows forward while they began to fire their scorpions at keep. The bolts did nothing to the walls of the keep save possibly knocking out tiny chips of the stone. The wall was too well made and the Ironborn scorpions were not that powerful in any event. A catapult would've done more, and if it had been large enough might well have were burst through the walls, but such a weapon could not be put on any longship, not even one of the Iron Fleet.

Victarion cursed luridly at that, then shrugged his shoulders philosophically and ordered his ship forward. "I guess we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way!"

His crew all gave a roar of approval at that. Quickly the Iron Victory moved forward to join their fellows. The longships ground themselves all around the beleaguered Castle or got in close enough to the wall of the keep that was right on the edge of the shore to throw up grapples there while their fellows on the ships of the second group tried their best to keep the defenders heads down.

OOOOOOO

Ser Igon's face had become grimmer and grimmer as the battle continued and he turned to Margaery. "My lady, go below." He ordered, his tone grim and unyielding.

Margaery looked at his face then down at the battle all around the keep while the rain began to come down in ever increasing amounts. She nodded, fear and anger warring within her, but she knew that being on the keep's roof served no purpose now save to distract the defenders from their own worries. "Good luck captain." she said formally, holding out her hands to him. He bent over it, but she used it to grab one of his ears and pulled him upright kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Be safe." She ordered then was gone.

Igon Vyrwel of Highgarden stared after the young woman, who he had seen grow from a child up to the beautiful lady she was now, shaking his head in amusement for a moment. "May the Maiden and the Mother watch over you, milady."

He turned back to the battle grabbing up a bow of his own and firing down at the Ironborn ships that were trying to throw grapples up onto the wall of the keep and having no luck. "That's the way lads, beat these attacks off, then we can concentrate elsewhere! We'll show these Iron bastards, what true courage is all about!"

OOOOOOO

Upriver the first four ships had finished the laborious process of transferring crew from the stricken ship. That was not an easy process for any Ironborn longship. After all feuds among the Ironborn were taken seriously, and longships were more often than not family affairs. Several vendettas were cleared up in those moments before the Ironborn began to turn back.

They were supposed to land somewhere on the bank and have their men march overland back towards Oldflowers, but there was nothing here of interest to them. The two remaining captains had decided that heading back down the river until they were nearly with arrow range would be acceptable.

The last ship had turned itself around, a hard process but necessary if they wanted to steer at all, when a lookout shouted from above in the crow's nest. "Ships coming downriver, they look like barges!"

The Ironborn captains both looked at one another from across their decks and one of them, a captain from Pyke itself grinned evilly. "Some fat fucking merchie that didn't get the news? I think we've found our own prize!

"It'll make a good warm-up."

"They're comin' on fast!" Said one of the lookouts now having saw the same things his fellow did.

By that point the ships were close enough for all of the Ironborn on the deck to see them despite the now pouring rain. The barges didn't stop when they were well within sight of the longships, instead coming on strong. The longships captains worst but so astonished at this that they couldn't do anything for a moment. It was like so many sheep trying to attack wolves.

That impression lasted right up until the groups of ships were close enough for grapples to go across. A roar was heard on the wind despite the sound of the rain pattering down "Growing strong!" The longships crews moved across the now tied together ships only to be met by a furious charge of their own and various shouts from armored Knight's and soldiers.

One roar in particular was heard on the wind despite the sound of the rain pattering down "Growing Strong!" Each barge was stuffed to the gunwales with warriors and though many of them lacked experience they were eager and very angry at the despoiling of their lands.

Garlan smiled grimly. He'd had no idea the Ironborn would be so stupid as to come this deep into the Mander but these ships didn't have the scorpions that could've made this confrontation a thing of horror to him and his men. Indeed, they didn't seem to have many archers either which meant this was a steel-to-steel battle. He said this allowed to a nearby knight, who he knew from his days in the marches then added "I'll take that any day against Ironborn scum!"

"I as well!"the knight laughed almost gaily, but with a grim undercurrent as their barge slammed side to side against him a longship. With a final nod to one another the two young men raced forwards joining the charge over their barges sides and onto the longship.

OOOOOOO

If Victarion had known that Garlan and his men had arrived it was quite possible that he would have tried to pull back his men and prepare a more advantageous battle. It would've made good tactical sense after all, since he had no idea about the numbers or strength of these newcomers. This wouldn't have worked though, not even Victarion could get the Ironborn to retreat from a battle whatever sense it made.

As it was, Victarion didn't know. All he could feel was the battle turning against the defenders. Slowly the archers fallen silent up on top of the keep, and from the sound of steel clanging against steel over the sound of the rain he could tell that the other Ironborn had gotten up on to the wall at several places. The defenders just didn't have enough men to match the assault, and the rain had cut badly into their archer's ability. Bows were not as susceptible to water damage as the layman thought, but visibility dropped dramatically in any kind of rainstorm, making archers ability to pick out targets far worse than normal.

He was still losing dozen of men of course, and that was only on the river side of the battle. Thankfully however the keep's scorpions couldn't be depressed enough to fire on their ships any longer.

Victarion grounded the Iron Victory slightly north of the keep and went ashore with his entire crew. Between them they were carrying a battering ram, and they raced around the walls of the keep, losing several men to the archers on the wall despite the rain before they got into position in front of the keep's main gate.

With the defenders spread everywhere, more than 200 already dead from various means and with Ironborn already up on the wall in several places the defenders simply couldn't concentrate enough fire to take out the battering ram or its crew. The gate however was old and strong, and it withstood the blows of the battering ram with ease.

No, it was the attack on the wall that moved inland away from the keep that finally got through. The Ironborn got enough men onto that section of the wall to gain superiority there despite still losing men from the archers on top of the keep's roof. More men began to pull themselves up onto the wall as the defenders retreated quickly, archers always knowing that they didn't really stand a chance against swordsmen at close range.

Seeing this, someone up top of the keep blew a horn sharply five times in quick succession. At this signal the defenders on the other wall of the triangle retreated into the keep with that their surviving fellows from the southern wall, aided by a massive hail of arrows from overhead halting any close pursuit. They bolted and locked the two doors leading from the keep out onto the wall before any of the men could get there in time and from the sound of things were already barricading the inside of the doors.

Realizing this many of the Ironborn began to pelt down into the small courtyard, hurriedly. After a vicious fight in the gatehouse they opened the outer gates for their fellows. Victarion smiled grimly as he motioned his men to bring forward the battering ram against the keep's doors in turn, though arrow fire was still taking a toll on the Ironborn around him. He grabbed six of his men and shouted, "Head back to the Iron Victory and bring one of the scorpion bolts up here!"

As those six ran off he grabbed another man. "Head around the south of the Castle, their fire's weakest there now. Signal the archer's ships to bring their men ashore, we can put them up on the walls here!"

The runner raced off while Victarion himself moved to head up to the wall. He never noticed the messenger didn't get two steps before being nailed in the back of his unarmored head by someone from a murder hole set on the third floor of the keep. More archers joined the defenders fire from there, and despite the ongoing pounding of the rain the casualties among the Ironborn began to go up once more. Yet that first shot, unnoticed as it was then and unremarked upon later, was so good that, had anyone actually noticed, they might have thought it miraculous.

Soon the men Victarion had sent to get the scorpion bolt were back and he bellowed, "Get over here!" From where he was taking refuge from the defender's fire right next to the wall of the keep in the small recess of the doorway.

Two of them died while all around the Ironborn horde were trying to find cover wherever they could. The remaining men however brought the scorpion bolt up onto the castle's walls and over to where Victarion was taking shelter. He tapped it with one gauntleted fist. "Let's knock on their door!"

With that he moved to one side, helping to grab the scorpion bolt. They backed up then raced forward slamming the iron head of the bolt into the doorway splintering it. Another five runs shattered the door and pressed the few pieces of furniture that had been stacked against it backwards slightly. One of them died from an archer from inside firing through the hole in the doorway they had made, but the others pulled back quickly and ran forward again slamming the scorpion bolt once again into the door. This finally pushed enough of the barricade inside out of their way for the men to force their way into the keep.

"We Do Not Sow!" Victarion shouted wielding his axe hacking away not at men at the moment but at the furniture blocking the doorway deeper into the keep. The doorway itself was so small that only a few pieces of furniture had been able to be placed against the door, which proved to the defenders' undoing.

An arrow clanged off of Victarion's chest plate at an angle as he twisted to one side, and then he through his axe over hand at the lone archer trying to defend this position while behind him another had already raced off shouting the alarm. Dozens of armsmen came up, but by that point Victarion had already burst out of the destroyed furniture with dozens of Ironborn behind him, grabbing up his axe from the dead archer's chest. All of the Ironborn that had been trying to batter their way through the keep's door were now pouring in behind Victarion shouting their own houses war cries as well as the general "For the Drowned God!"

At the head of the assault Victarion found himself dueling with a few young knights who were trying to wield great swords of all things inside the confines of the corridor. They got in each other's way so much Victarion slew both of them with ease, then came to where another corridor intersected the one they had been attacking from. Ironborn quickly raced off in every direction while Victarion stood there thinking, trying to figure out the layout of the keep.

Just then if Victarion had ears to hear it he would've heard a shout of joy and sudden happiness go up from the men on the keep's roof. Because it was at that moment that Garlan and the barges under his command had come into sight, racing down the river as fast as they could move. They weren't very fast, and the Ironborn ships whose crews were still trying to throw grapnel's up onto the top of the keep there saw them coming.

All of those men had been angered and irritated by their inability to go through with their portion of the attack. At this sign of what they thought was new, softer targets every captain there upped-anchor and swiftly made their way up river towards the barges, whose shape they could barely see in the pounding rain, let alone what was on their decks. They discovered too late that the barges were packed full of armsmen knights and archers. One longship lost enough of its crew to begin to list badly in the water, getting in the way of two more.

Here however the general disorganization and callousness Ironborn had towards one another actually worked to their advantage. Rather than retreat or try and pull away which would've been disastrous in the close confines of the Mander the other five remaining longships kept going, skirting past their tangled fellows to crash into the barges at the front of Garlan's command.

This won them force superiority for a moment upon the first few barges. Moreover this was the kind of fight the Ironborn excelled that; on uneven surfaces in bad weather and in-close. Moreover the unlucky, stupid and inexperienced had been weeded out since the battle to take the Shield Islands began, leaving only the good, the lucky and the experienced which was something many of the men under Garlan could not say. The experience in this kind of fighting began to tell, and Garlan's men took severe casualties in those first few moments. The battle turned however when more barges pulled up alongside and greater numbers of knights and armsmen began to come in on their fellow's side.

While this was going on the last four barges of the convoy grounded themselves on the shoreline, and the men on them began to race towards the beleaguered seat of House Oldflowers.

Inside the keep of the castle Victarion had fought his way up onto the fourth floor of the keep, where he began to meet even stiffer resistance. These knights and arms men were much more experienced than the ones down below, armed with short swords, hatchets and here and there in the hands of an especially capable man longswords, weapons that were much easier to use inside rather than the greatswords those two young idiots Victarion had killed earlier had tried to use.

Numbers however were pushing them further and further back, and Victarion was at the head of his man all the way killing for his Drowned God, while internally noting they would have to feed the bodies into the river at some point in the future. Eventually they forced their way within arms-reach of a doorway that led into a room which must've served several of the murder holes facing the river. Victarion laughed coldly. "They're trying so hard to protect that place, I think we've found where the Rose of Tyrell is hiding boys!"

That idea seemed to spur his man to greater heights, and they charged forward at the remaining defenders. Victarion was at their head, and he tried to pick out his opposing number in the defenders, finding him after a moment. He was a knight, an elderly one standing at the back of the group extorting his fellows. "Hold, the Warrior blesses our arms, hold damn your eyes!"

Though his armor was of high standard, and his sword and armor both well cared for the face that showed through the visor opening of his helmet was overweight and old, matching the voice that Victarion heard, and the armor had obviously been tailored to allow room for a fat belly. Just like the Reach itself, strong seeming, but a fat and rich underbelly.

Despite this however the man was decent with his longsword and shield. As Victarion cut down his own opponent the knight did the same to an Ironborn warrior, blocking the Ironborn's mace with his shield and reposting quickly not at the opponents just but at his leg, cutting deep into his knee. The Ironborn screamed, flailing for a moment and the older man's sword came up in an economical backstroke cutting his throat open right below his helmet.

Another Ironborn charged the man and the older knight dueled with him sword to sword for a moment. Then the Ironborn overextended slightly allowing the older man to smack his sword to one side with his shield and skewer him through the middle punching through the Ironborn's chain mail with ease.

The old man only had a brief moment to pull his sword out of his former opponent before Victarion was on him. Victarion took a single moment to nod his head at the older man then charged. "We do not sow! For the Drowned God!"

"For my honor, for my oath, for my family and house Tyrell! Flying Free!" The older man bellowed, meeting him sword to axe. Though he was old, the man obviously had kept up at least some of his training, and was stronger than Victarion had anticipated. Not as strong as Victarion however, and their locked blades were quickly pushed back.

The old man disengaged, twirling to one side and using his shield to smash Victarion's axe to one side, his sword coming up as quickly as he could make it. But Victarion blocked it with his own shield, and the two exchanged several quick blows, the man refusing to lock weapons with Victarion again. He also refused to move from the doorway he was guarding, turning his body instead to face Victarion.

After another series of exchanges Victarion was able to get within the man's reach slightly, bowling into the man throwing him bodily backwards through the doorway. This allowed the Ironborn behind Victarion who had finally finished off the last of the armsmen in the corridor to barrel into the room. By this point there were only eight Ironborn with Victarion, the others having spread out throughout the keep or having fallen in the fierce defense of this room outside in the corridor. But they would be more than enough to subdue the archers within and claim the prize.

Four of them fell to arrows from inside, and two more were engaged quickly by unarmored archers racing forward with long daggers. Five of those archers died in the next few mad moments, but they took two of the Ironborn with them. This left two more plus Victarion and the old man, and in one corner holding a bow and quickly putting another arrow to it the girl who could only be Margaery of House Tyrell.

The last two Ironborn pushed quickly past the knight and Victarion. One took the girl's arrow in the throat, the other danced back out of the door just in time to avoid a second.

He then tried to get behind the older man, as Victarion tried to turn him slightly their blades still locked up but he screamed as the girl, showing a remarkable ability, shot between her last defenders legs to catch the Ironborn warrior in the lower leg. He almost fell, but still made his way around the two combatants, hobbling forward.

By this time the old man was gasping, and his blows were nowhere near as strong or swift as they had been when the battle began. Victarion finally smashed his sword to one side, kicking out hard and catching the man in the chest before he could get his shield in position to block it. The man 'oofed' in agony as the breath exploded out of his lungs the kick doubling him over.

Victarion smashed his own shield against the man's as he tried feebly to raise it to guard his head. The man fell backward, stunned. The axe came around, it's heavy cutting edge slamming into the armor of the man where his shoulder met his neck.

"No!" Margaery screamed another arrow on her bow, taking the other Ironborn reaver in the eye. Through her tears Margaery reached down quickly fitting another arrow to her bow. She tried to fire at the man who had just killed Igon Vyrwel, who she recognized from the stories about him as Victarion Greyjoy. The arrow caught him in the shoulder, but it didn't penetrate his plate armor hitting as it did on an angle, simply bouncing off as he turned towards her.

Victarion kicked the man's dead body off his axe, dropping his mangled shield. He turned to face the girl, wincing as his injured leg once more had to twist around, thankful the old man hadn't been mobile either, else the fight between them might have ended very differently. He marched towards the girl, looking around in frank astonishment mingled with respect. "Your guards put up a hell of a fight girl, that's to their credit, Greenlanders though they be. But did you really think this castle would be enough to stop the tide? We are Ironborn girl, we pay the Iron Price and we take what we want!"

By that time Victarion was in front of the girl, and she tried to use her bow like a stave striking at him but he disdainfully smacked it out of her hands with his gauntleted fist. His other fist clamped around her throat lifting her off the ground by several feet. Her feet kicked out ineffectually against his armor and he laughed coldly. "You are a pretty one, it's been a long time since I've taken a salt wife for myself and you would be a prize beyond compare. But tell me, why?"

"Why did you try this. You baited us girl, and I'll admit the defenders here put up one hell of a fight, but the outcome was never in doubt! You could've run, could've left the Mander behind and taken refuge elsewhere. Why? Why did you invite the tide upon yourself?"

"For..my… duty…" Margaery gurgled through his hold on her throat. "For my people! Couldn't defend Highgarden, had to stop you here."

"But you didn't stop me fool girl, you gave me the keys to that city, you! What will your family do when they see you trussed up on my bowsprit? What will the defenders of your precious city do?"

Victarion was not his brother Euron, who would have already raped the girl and carted her off to his ship naked, nor was he Balon, who would have raped her then killed her, sticking her head on his bowsprit. Victarion was not ruled by his passions like that, but neither was he compassionate. No, the girl was a means to an end and that end would be a prize greater than any Ironborn had ever taken: the city and castle of Highgarden, home of one of the two richest families in all Westeros.

Just then shouts from out in the corridor and further into the keep caught Victarion's attention. Unfamiliar war cries were being shouted, and he could hear a few familiar voices shouting in dismay and even fear in some cases. He turned towards the door, and that was when Margaery struck. Rather than beating on his hand ineffectually, one hand quickly moved to the back of her own neck where she had stowed the holdout dagger underneath her hair, tied there by a small piece of rope that was hidden underneath her dress.

She pulled it out quickly, raising it in one hand. Victarion turned back to her, and the dagger was thrust down straight into his eye and through it into his brain. Victarion Greyjoy died instantly, his body spasming as he fell to the ground.

No longer being held up off her feet Margaery fell too. She sprained her ankle as she fell awkwardly on it, but ignored the pain quickly pulling the dead man's grip off of her throat. She spent a moment massaging it before hobbling over to where the body of Igon Vyrwel lay, going to her knees next to it and gently closing the older man's eyes. "May the Warrior and the Father know you as their own, dear protector." She murmured. That was where Garlan found her as he and his men barreled through the keep looking for her.

The death toll was atrocious all around. Garlan had lost about 2000 men taking on the longships in the river but that was almost the totality of his own losses, he had only lost a hundred more men once his force was in Oldflowers attacking the Ironborn from behind. The Ironborn had never suspected that any other force was in the area and hadn't posted any watchers on the wall as they burst into the keep, so they were taken completely by surprise.

Moreover, by that point the defenders had reeked a horrific toll on the Ironborn. The Ironborn had started this battle with 19 longships, all of them having their own crews and as many more men besides as they could carry. That amounted to a little over 4000 man. The defenders had never had more than nine hundred, and had been stretched thinner and thinner as the battle went on, but even so had gutted the attacking force. They wouldn't have won without Garlan's sudden arrival, but there would have been few enough Ironborn left alive for Victarion at least to realize how dearly the battle had been won.

Those same defenders had paid the highest price that could be demanded of them. Only twelve men of the castle's entire complement were still alive when Garlan led his men into the keep from the same entrance that the Ironborn had used to gain access to the keeps interior. More than half of the survivors were injured, many crippled in some fashion.

Even so Castle Oldflowers still stood. Margaery was still alive, Garlan was alive and with his forces more than halfway down the Mander. Moreover the Ironborn fleet holding the Shield Islands had suddenly lost a little under half of its strength. It had also lost it's commander, Victarion Greyjoy, an even worse blow in terms of the fleet's combat ability. Both of these losses would begin to tell in the months to come, not just for the fleet holding the Shield Islands, but all the Ironborn.

OOOOOOO

Despite how busy they had been since arriving in the town, the Northern army finally left Harroway four days after their arrival, leaving behind a force of 400 to guard the walls. From Harroway, Rickard was sent off, leading a force of a combined arms force of eight hundred, most of which came from his own House, heading towards Saltpans. His orders were to find out what was happening there, and if he decided it was not to the North and their allies' benefit, do something about it.

When he arrived in the Saltpans, Rickard would learn that Lord Ryger's prediction had been accurate in what was going on, though he was incorrect on which side the two houses that held Saltpans had chosen. The Knightly House, Cox, had chosen neutrality, favoring waiting to see more evidence, while House Hawick had decided to come in on the Lannister side in return for gaining full control of the town. They had received aid in the form of a hundred armsmen and they had moved to arrest House Cox. Ser Cox fought back, and the two sides had exhausted themselves fighting for a town which that very fighting had wrecked.

With no one ready for an exterior force arriving, neither side had posted watchmen on the walls. Rickard moved in quickly, subduing both sides with minimal loss of life to his own men but significant loss on both sides after they foolishly tried to attack his men. Within an hour, both Houses had been nearly wiped out, the remainder was under Lord Karstark's control, as was the town. Normality began to return, something the townsfolk, caught in the middle as always, were ecstatic about.

Another five men were sent to Maidenpool with a message from Daenerys to Lord Mooton, who Daenerys knew was one of the contacts her brother and Illyrio had been trying to cultivate. That message contained some information about her return and her dragons as well as calling that house to join their cause. Maidenpool was too far out of the way from the Westerlands march up to face the North so hadn't been touched yet. That would make it and the lands around it incredibly important in the days to come when Ranma and Daenerys began to try to heal the damage that the Westerlands incursion had caused, and after that when they marched into the Crownlands.

Daenerys hoped to bring Mooton in on her side rather than her brothers, but had only a faint hope it would work. Both Daenerys and Ranma were a little leery about it, knowing that Mooton would be in a position to push for concessions since they would desperately need the aid of his land and town. Moreover neither of them had a very good handle on his personality, and their advisors for once were unable to help them with this. Lord Mooton had never been seen in Riverrun, Brynden had never interacted with him, and Domeric had never travelled to Maidenpool before leaving for Essos.

At the pace the army marched it only took them half a day to get to Darry, which allowed them to rest the Army for the rest of that day, which was raining again, before heading out the next. Ranma and Daenerys found that Darry had also been ready for them with the foodstuffs and other bits and pieces that they had demanded be ready for their arrival were indeed ready.

Lord Darry was a tall boisterous fellow, but his eyes were calculating, and when he greeted the two royals, he seemed to be watching them closely. He seemed to take their laying down of conditions for him in stride, though he somehow made both Daenerys and Ranma uneasy.

That night Ranma and Daenerys met with their senior commanders once more. "Who knows the lands around here best? Specifically, what are the lands like between here and Harrenhal?"

There was some muttering about that and Ser Blanetree frowned. "I served as Master-at-arms at Harrenhal before my father passed away and made me the head of our House, it's about a week's march for a normal army from here. But it's a tough nut to crack even as badly battered as it is and I don't think we've heard any rumors about it or the town around it facing much in the way of the depredations of the Westerlanders. I'd recommend ignoring it, if we can get between it and the rest of the Westerlands army, we can cut them off from any support House Whent might offer in the way of supplies. Which wouldn't be much frankly, lady Whent and her house aren't very powerful, and she isn't the best land manager either."

"Agreed," said Lord Jason frowning as he stared at the map laid out on the camp table between them. Ranma and Daenerys had decide against staying in Darry itself, saying it was because the castle couldn't house their entire army. The reality was both that, and the fact they didn't really trust Lord Darry, and didn't want to tempt him into doing something foolish.

Jason knew that and respected their decision, but concentrated on the current discussion. "I've met Lady Whent several times and she doesn't really have the stomach for battle. She bent the knee to the Lannister's right enough, but I doubt that she was very enthused about it one way or the other. So long as the garrison the Lannisters placed in her castle is too large enough for her own men to overcome however, she won't turn against them either. But neither will she take any offensive action."

"Hmmpf…" muttered Greatjon shaking his head. "I remember that castle, and if I was the Lannisters I'd put in a powerful enough force to hold that regardless of what the lady would want. But it's doubtful they've got enough men to sortie against us with or without Whent's cooperation. What exactly are you thinking of?"

"Considering that I don't intend to actually attack, at least not conventionally, the fortifications on the Kneeling Man's Ford, I don't think we need the entire Army with us. That means we might be able to use half the army to relieve Raventree Hall or move to siege Harrenhal. If the group there is no threat, then the first option sounds better. Whatever the case, we'll make for Sallydance first, then take the lay of the land and decided what to do next."

OOOOOOO

Three days march down the River Road from Darry the army should've been in sight of a small village, called Sallydance, but what they found was horror. They had seen signs of the depredations of the Westerlanders before this of course. The trials in Harroway, the tales of the smallfolk passed on in Fairmarket, the empty and abandoned farms the abandoned village of Ramsford along with others, even a few empty towns here and there along the Kingsroad showed the disruption and in some cases horror of the war the army of Tywin Lannister had brought to the Riverlands.

But all of that paled to a town whose inhabitants hadn't, for whatever reason, been able to run in time. The town was utterly demolished. There were no fires now, this had either happened long enough ago that they had burned out, or the rains that had come and gone since the battle against Tywin's forces had put them out, there was no way to know which. But there were still bodies, and there was still a stench discernible by Fenris leagues before Ranma could even see the town: the smell of death and decay.

He looked over at Ser Blanetree, who was the local guide at the moment, then over at where Meera and her men were coming back swiftly down the road. The scout group had been much reduced in the fighting on the other side of the Red Fork and reduced further by the need to send a few of them with Brynden and a few again with Rickard as he went down to the Saltpans.

That left Meera with only six men skilled at scouting to move toward the army, which had forced Ranma to use Fenris as a scout around the army's flanks and back just in case. Meera had seconded a few of the levy units from House Roote since that house's dissolution as local experts though.

Meera's face was pale as if she was trying to hold in her bile, her jaw clenched. Before she could speak however Ranma held up a hand shaking his head. "Don't tell me, the village is gone, right?"

Meera stared up at him then glanced over at Fenris, who had come up to stand next to Ranma from where he had been scouting the southern flank of the army. "Yes, it's, it's not a pretty sight." she said gulping again at the memory. "We didn't get too close, but the outskirts of the town was bad enough. I'd recommend cutting off into the woods to go around it."

Ranma turned to Greatjon and his son along with Patrek and Jason. "We'll go far enough around so that Fenris can't smell that stench anymore then come back towards the road."

He turned back to Meera looking at her. "Were there any looters or anyone still around?"

'I don't think so, not with that smell in the air."

Ranma nodded, staring further down the road towards Sallydance while behind him the army began to leave the road. He actually wanted to go and look, to see the devastation firsthand, to see what the Westerlanders had done to the areas of the Riverlands they controlled. Yet he knew it would be dangerous to come any closer than this to an area with so many bodies that had been left unburied. That was a hive for flies and disease, and he wasn't about to chance that, even with his own life.

But in the end he didn't have to do so to get a further taste of the hell the Westerlanders had brought to the Riverlands. Sallydance had marked the intersection between a small road heading towards the House Blackwood's lands and further down the River Road, making it a small but decent hub of local trade. As such it had several smaller outlying farmsteads, and one of them was on the route that the army took to get away from the stench. There weren't nearly as many bodies, but those that were there were horrors.

The body of the man who had possibly been the patriarch of the family had been strung up on a nearby tree, his entrails hanging out from a cut that had opened him right below his stomach from one side to the other. His two sons had fared little better, one having had his head chopped off next to his body, the other having seemingly been pulled apart, possibly by horses or something.

But the worst was the younger daughter and mother. The mother had been placed on top of a stake which had been driven deep into her stomach, hopefully after she had already been dead but there was no way to tell. Her body was also naked showing that even if she had been alive when impaled, it might have been a release from the hell that had become her life in those final hours. The same had been done to her daughter a girl who looked only six or seven years old, including the stark evidence of rape.

Ranma couldn't take his eyes off those bodies, his face showing horror and a rising rage at the sight. Daenerys, when she came up with the rest of the army, also stood there, struck dumb by the sight. Merry was again sharing a horse with Daenerys. She took one look then buried her face in the older woman's hair, shuddering.

Greatjon and Jason were both veterans, and had seen such things particularly in the battles against the Ironborn when they came in after a raid. But the royal army hadn't exactly been gentle to the smallfolk either, nor had the Stormlanders or even the Northerners until Lord Stark had put his foot down and executed one out of every five rapists to stop such.

Smalljon and Patrek however, thanks to Ranma's rules about such things hadn't yet seen what an army could do to a village or town when the blood was up and the fires blazing. They joined their king and queen staring at the destruction though none of them dared come close enough to bury the bodies, it'd been so long since they had been placed there it was possible that disease had already set in.

"Get me some fire arrows." Ranma said softly. Though the voice was soft, there was something in it that made practically everyone in hearing him bolt back toward the supply horses.. Smalljon was the first to come back, carrying one of the spare bows and a fistful of fire arrows. Ranma wordlessly took them from him, and with unerring precision sent a single fire arrow into each of the bodies that they could see, then another into the remains of the farmhouse.

As they began to slowly burn Ranma shook his head. "And these people call themselves men? These people think themselves nobles and knights? These people call themselves human?" Daenerys had no answer for him, simply taking his hand in hers as they stared at the fires for a few more moments before turning away to rejoin the rest of the army.

Not even an hour later they intersected the road leading towards Blackwood land on one side and then back towards the village on the other. Here Ranma called for a halt, letting the Army have a quick lunch while he consulted with his commanders. "We've got the bit between our teeth now," he said rubbing Fenris up under the chin for a moment as the direwolf rumbled in pleasure, thankful as his human was to get away from the stench of decay. "I mean to keep it, and I am in no mood to allow the Riverlands Houses that have thus far supported the Westerlanders to have the opportunity to turn their coats."

"What do you plan to do?" Greatjon said gruffly. Jaded he might be, but even he had been shocked by the sight of that farm. Yet he was still able to keep his mind on business. "Remember we still don't know any clear or hard number of the men that Tywin was able to pull out of our trap. Less than half his army for certain, but that's not exactly a small number is it?"

"I have faith that Brynden has been pressing them hard, and with the distance to cover he'll have lost even more men, especially with Ser Wendel's assault on his camp during the battle. That Army won't have the morale for any kind of heroic assault, and we'll still have the pikes. My read on the land around the Kneeling Man's Ford is that it'll be open enough for us to form a pike square if we can." Ranma paused looking at the Riverlands lords who all looked at one another before shrugging or nodding.

With that sign of agreement Ranma went on. "We'll take one of the regiments of pike and half the archers along with the irregular infantry all of the light cavalry that we have and a small portion of the heavy cavalry up with us. We'll send another regiment of pike and the rest of the army with all the food they can carry down towards Raventree Hall."

"Why did you mention all the food then they can carry?" Patrek asked.

"Because I mean for that army to move even faster than we normally do. I want you to catch the force down by Raventree Hall before any word of the fall of Darry and Harroway can reach them. If we do that you can take them by surprise. The rest of the army will continue to move towards the Kneeling Man's Ford. Once we get back on the road how long d'you think it'll take us to get there Ser Blanetree?"

"As fast as were moving, another 2 and a half days," the older knight said promptly. "Even if we keep most of the supply horses with us, we're moving at a faster clip than most armies can manage, we might even beat Tywin back."

"If we can do that I mean to take those defenses at a run and be in position to hold the fort against him." Ranma said seriously. "With us on one side and Brynden on the other, he'll either surrender or die and frankly at this point I don't talking care which."

Gone from Ranma's mind were all his long-term needs to retain a portion of the invaders as a workforce, gone was his desire to not punish the levy forces so hard for the crimes of their masters. No, he wanted to slaughter everyone last one of the Westerlanders, and if he had to he would do it gleefully.

Daenerys frowned for a moment. "With the use of my dragons taking those defenses shouldn't be difficult, especially if the force there has somehow received word of the disaster that Tywin walked into. Even if Tywin beats as there, that army will be heavily demoralized, low on food and any other kind of provisions. It won't try for an open field battle, not unless they're desperate enough to try to charge our pike again. I would recommend that you go with the other army Ranma, while I retain command of the other portion and push up to the Kneeling Man's Ford."

Ranma frowned thoughtfully, then Daenerys leaned in, whispering so as to not be overheard. "We've proven that we can both mete out justice and can deal with matters of law and politics, but I still need to prove that I can lead battles for us to be seen as true equals."

Her husband continued to frown, then shook his head slowly, replying in a whisper as well. "No, you got a good point but I want to be on hand just in case. Tywin's a cunning old lion, and if he does something surprising or has somehow managed to keep his force under control after all this time I want to be there."

"Which could simply imply that I'm not your equal in this field. Send me along with Greatjon, Ser Barristan and Jason to advise me, and that will be enough." Daenerys insisted.

"Your Majesty." Jason began delicately, indicating the royal duo's conversation had carried despite their whispering. "I realize your point, and it's a good one, but I don't think this is the time." Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. "Tywin knows his options are becoming less and less, and that will make him both dangerous and unpredictable. For that we need our best military minds, and that is Lord Ranma, I'm sorry to say."

"Cley, get me my map of the Riverlands," Ranma said before Daenerys could say anything. The others were silent for several moments as Ranma went over the Riverlands, strangely enough not concentrating on the area near the Kneeling Man Ford, but down further south. After a moment he shook his head. "Sorry Daenerys, but I think I do need to be with that force. With Stone Hedge still in our hands, Tywin won't be able to even think of holding if he get there before us, which he might."

Ranma carefully did not look at Fenris, keeping his eyes locked on Daenerys whose eyes flickered that way once then nodded slowly, seeing his point. "If he retreats will Lannister try to get down towards Wayfarer's Rest and retreat to the Westerlands, or further south?"

"I think he'll retreat straight south." Ranma said promptly. He tapped the map for a moment on the Tumbler's Falls. House Harlton controls this land and they joined the Lannisters willingly so he can expect aid there, and if he's fast enough he might get there before us."

"And then take barges down the Blackwater Rush." Daenerys thought nodding your head. "That makes sense. If he knows Wayfarer's Rest is held against him, he certainly won't be able to go that way, you're right. Which would mean a long chase…" Daenerys nodded again. "I withdraw my suggestion." She winked at the others laughing as she took Ranma's arm. "Never let it be said that I am not open to the voice of sweet reason."

This caused everyone around them to laugh, even Ser Barristan, but after a moment Jason asked. "Who will you put in charge of the force to relieve the Blackwoods then?"

"You Lord Mallister, Ser Barristan and I believe, Smalljon. No offense Smalljon, but I think we'll need Patrek with the army still as supply officer and you'll be of better use helping to shatter what resistance there is outside of Raventree Hall." Patrek's arm had healed by this point, though he wasn't up to fighting with it just yet. He had however taken to the exercises Ranma had shown him easily. He would never be the match of one of the Wolfsworn, never be able to use ki like all of them could to power their weapons, but he would still become far better than most swordsman could be.

Smalljon nodded, his hands working on the hilt of his greatsword while his father thumped him on the back. At the same time Jason looked at his son proudly

"I think we should send Tristan and House Ryger's troops as well." Daenerys suggested. "A force of light cavalry like that will be good to chase down any survivors, and it'll still leave us with the majority of the light cavalry we have." Plus in a battle like that, Tristan will be able to win himself some glory, which he feels he needs to. Ranma might not have noticed his growing desire to prove himself, but I have.

Ranma nodded and clapped his hands sharply together. "It sounds like a plan Sers and ladies, let's get it done." Within an hour, the army, now fed its midday meal, was once more on the March in two different directions, the dragons once more flying over the portion led by Ranma and Daenerys.

OOOOOOO

Tywin smiled grimly as a cheer went up all around him, the army at last seeing the friendly fortifications on Kneeling Man's Ford, and men on the other side began to see the army. The march these past few weeks had been hellish.

The weather of course played its part in that. Few among his men had warm clothing, let alone rain proof clothing. Their tents were proof against rain, but thanks to that spoiling raid by the Northerners, most of the army's tents were gone along with much of their other camp supplies. Because of that and the rains that came every third day or so, many of his men were sick with colds and fevers. This was made worse by the lack of bedrolls and food.

With the Northern barbarians on its heel, the army couldn't stop and forage, which made hunting impossible most of the time, and the food had slowly run out. Most of his men hadn't had more to eat than small chunks of stale bread. And the northerners themselves did their part, never able to catch up with his army, they still continually pressed him hard, ambushing his back riders several times, attacking his flank with small forces and generally causing carnage.

Tywin had tried several to reform his army and hold at locations he thought he could use to his advantage against the Northerner's dogging his heel. Each time he found them either already holding those positions, or attacking him in such a way the geography worked for them instead. And always their archers would go to work, either as a large body or ones and twos. Ten men here, a hundred here, four hundred lost here, the losses to the Northerners, desertions and deaths by other causes had added up, halving his army again, leaving him with slightly over five thousand men.

Nonetheless, I escaped your jaws young wolf, your outriders were never able to slow my army down enough to bring up your infantry. Now come, come and try to beard the lion in his den. We will see what those pikes of yours can do against a prepared position.

Unfortunately this slight uptick in his mood did not last Tywin very long. "What?" He said coldly as he looked at Lord Stackspear, who had remained in command of the fortress here.

"Stone Hedge and Wayfarer's Rest have both fallen my Lord." The man said shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably under his Lord Paramount's icy gaze, his own shock and worry at the losses the main Westerlands army had taken apparent, but he'd had enough to worry about the past few days. "We think the raiders got into Stone Hedge by impersonating the regular supply convoy, some of our scouts found their bodies hidden along the road to the castle. Wayfarer's Rest was taken in an assault, but as Stone Hedge was the closer issue, I felt it better to concentrate on that first."

"I sent the majority of my men down to try and reclaim it under Ser Greenfield and news of the castle's fall spread quickly to the force besieging Raventree Hall. Lord Bracken pulled his men out of the siege immediately and marched up to take part of the siege. Neither of them have reported any headway however, so it is anyone's guess if they will win through."

"And our supply situation?" Tywin knew all too well how much of the supplies gathered here at the ford he had taken to feed his army on the march, but hopefully those losses had been made good since they marched.

Lord Stackspear shrugged. "I don't have exact numbers for your army my lord, but the land around here has already been foraged out by my own men. I doubt we have enough supplies to feed both my men and yours for more than a few days, and there is no way the rest of our supplies can make do your losses."

In an uncharacteristic show of tiredness Tywin rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment before asking "Do we even know who took Stone Hedge? Was it some Riverlands brigand or some group from one of the houses that swore for us?"

"The man who reported the castle's loss to me said that he saw the Stark banner my Lord." the camp commander replied. "But, but my lord there is more. A, a party arrived here from Harroway with a man from further north, one of your spies. He brings information, I, you need to hear it firsthand milord, else you call me a liar."

Tywin looked at him then nodded. "Send for him then, but tell me, how many men did you send to take Stone Hedge back?"

"Around 3000 my Lord, nearly my full complement, I left a thousand men here under myself." Stackspear replied, while sending his servant out of the cabin. "I felt that the defenses here would've made up for numbers lost if we were attacked, and I could not bring myself to think that there was a second force strong enough to attack us here as well as take Stone Hedge. Information I've gained since making that decision have called that into question, but recalling those forces wouldn't have helped if that information is true."

Tywin quirked an eyebrow but underneath his habitual self-control he was getting a little worried at the fear he could see in Stackspear's face and body language.

At that point the servant returned with another man following him. Tywin took a moment to look at the man following Daven, trying to place where he had seen the face before. "You… would be the majordomo of house Wayn correct? Why are you here when you should be in place to pass on the movements of the Riverlands lords?"

Tywin's voice was mild, but violence glittered just underneath the surface. Without those lords deciding to break their neutrality the disastrous battle against the northern pike would never have happened, and Ranma would have been trapped there, unable to get around Tywin's army and escape once more.

"My Lord," Crenlock said going to one knee. "I traveled as quickly as I could, and as surreptitiously as I could as well which was not easy. I know I should have stayed in place my lord, but my normal means of passing on information were discovered, and I felt this information was important enough to risk bringing it in person." And of course his own life had been in danger too, even before the attempted assassination he had planned, which evidently had not worked. "A disaster has occurred my Lord, the return of the dragons!"

Tywin froze, that was the only word for it, his normally unexpressive features closed down entirely, his eyes growing colder than ice, and his hand which had been lightly tapping the hilt of his sword gripped it so hard his knuckles whitened. I had heard rumors to that effect, but none of my spies had passed on any real information, and Ser Addam didn't see any sign of it. How could the Northerners have kept that a secret, and why would they allow the dragons to return at all?

The Lord Paramount of the Westerlands didn't know anything about Alayaya and Domeric, or their ability to ferret out spies. Nor had he ever given much credence to either the Faith of the Seven, or the smallfolk's resentment of his armies actions since arriving in the Riverlands. The smallfolk had long memories, and Septon Sparrow had decided that whatever side he was on was most certainly not the Lannister's. And when the smallfolk were asked by their septons not to pass on information to the invaders, most obeyed, some even under torture. Those that didn't were known to their neighbors, and began to have 'accidents' over the past few weeks.

"Start from the beginning." Tywin ordered.

The man did so, detailing the arrival of the northern host with Lord Brynden and Greatjon Umber, their inability to make any headway with local lords, and then the second arrival via the Blue Fork which included the Umber heir and Lord Mallister. "It was only when the two of them and their servant entered the inn which Lord Wayn and the others had taken for themselves that we learned who she really was."

Disaster upon disaster, Tywin thought Crenlock finally finished, having detailed how his fellow spies had been outed by Brendan and a few others, how he had organized an assassination attempt of Daenerys, which must have failed given the rumors that had almost outpaced his progress form Harroway to the Ford. Crenlock finished by saying. "I shared enough with the knight in command of the Harroway garrison to warn him about the dragons, but he refused to pull his men back, but came with me to the Ford."

Here Stackspear spoke up. "We've since received word that House Darry has switched sides and they would only do that if the Targaryen girl was still around and if the northern army had crossed the ford."

"They plan to attack us from the side then." Tywin thought, his mind and voice cold. Ranma planned for this, perhaps not the fall of Stone Hedge, but he wanted me here, right here in my defenses, surrounded by log cabins and wooden palisades and wooden siege weapons. Would he threaten me with the dragons while all the while my army starved perhaps, or would he have simply used them right away? And it hasn't rained for the past two days, if that continues… It matters not, I need to retreat before the northerners get here. We don't have the supplies to stay here, and our earthworks facing the east aren't nearly as good as those facing the Ford.

"Lord Stackspear, it is clear to me that we are caught in a cleft stick. As such, we need to make some hard decisions." Tywin said aloud, then began to detail his orders, noticing but not caring as Stackspear's face first fell, then congealed into stone. Tywin would do what he had to in order to survive and see his family did the same, if that meant sacrificing the majority of the men he had here, so be it.

OOOOOOO

It took barely a day and a half for the now only 5000 strong army under Ser Barristan and Jason to reach the Blackwood lands. They stopped at the outskirts of a small village, resting the army a full day before marching on rapidly, coming within sight of Raventree Hall early the next day.

Thanks to the months of rigorous marching and exercise the army was still in good fighting condition when they arrived, and immediately fell into battle ranks. Sir Barristan had watched the battle at the Ford with interest. He knew that the pikes use of close formations, and the depth of that formation along with their better armor had made the pike not just an anti-cavalry weapon but an anti-anything weapon, so made that the center of his combat formation as they marched into sight of the army surrounding Raventree Hall.

He left Tristan and his House's troops to one side and back as a mobile reserve but mostly, he confided to Tristan who commanded them, to make certain that they were not engaged in the actual fight until the enemy broke. The heavy cavalry under Smalljon was to his other side, directly in front of the wing of archers for the moment. He wanted to hide the archers numbers from the enemy as much as he could, which wouldn't be much if he was honest, but that also put the archers closest to the nearest copse of trees which could allow them to retreat their just in case.

Though Ranma hadn't commented on it, Jason and Ser Barristan between them had decided to make one attempt to call for the Riverlands forces attacking Raventree Hall to surrender. It was doubtful they would, considering that news of the turn in fortune Tywin had run into wouldn't have reached them, and with the speed of the Northern army it was doubtful that even the fall of Harroway or turning of Darry had.

Still the two of them moved forward, under flag of truce along with Smalljon to talk to the leaders of the defenders. Ser Wode, Lord Keath, and Lord Harlton rode out to meet them, their own army quickly forming into a defensive formation facing the newcomers at the back of the earthworks they had thrown up around the castle. Evidently they hadn't even had scouts out, and even from where they sat on their horses out of bow range the Northern delegation could hear cries of consternation and shock at the sudden arrival of an enemy army.

Jason knew Ser Wode as a honorable man, one who had often chafed under his House's allegiance to that of Whent of Harrenhal, but despite being the most experienced man here, his contingent of the army was no doubt the smallest so Jason doubted he would have much say in what was about to happen.

He was proven correct in this assumption when it was Lord Keath who spoke up. "How the hell are you here Mallister?" he growled. "The last we heard, you and your men had just reached Fairmarket."

Lord Lucas Keath was a swarthy man, large of waist and shoulder, with small deep-set but intelligent eyes. He had always wished to make his house stronger than it was, holding lands near the God's Eye and House Vance of Atranta. That ambition was no doubt why he had joined with the Lannisters, not any belief in the rightness of their cause or anything else.

"You're forgetting the rumors we heard of late from the men," said Ser Wode, staring hard at Smalljon for a moment then moving on to the others nodding cordially at Tristan, which the younger man returned begrudgingly, and then Jason. "Is it true Darry and Harroway have fallen, Jason?"

"Yes," Jason replied simply. "The Northerners as you can see from Smalljon here and the pike behind me, are on this side of the Trident. Another army is moving up to take the Kneeling Man's Ford away from Tywin and hopefully trap him there. Stone Hedge has also fallen but you already know that else I would see Jonos here. I presume he pulled his men out and raced up there already?"

"He did," said Keath, his belligerence now abating somewhat as the true magnitude of the reversal hit him. There were only about 700 Westerlands men with their army and if they had to be subdued that could be dealt with easily enough. The commander was Ser Tybolt Hetherspoon, and he had not impressed any of the Riverlands lords with his martial prowess up to this point.

Lord Harlton was an older man than Keath, but he too was just as ambitious, and it had been that greed, along with the urging of his wife, a Peckledon, that he had taken up the Lannister cause. He'd long desired to add the Stony Sept to his holdings, and Tywin had promised to see to that after the war was over. However, he was also a realist, and knew when to cut his losses. "What are the terms of our surrender?"

Jason winced. This part wasn't going to go over well, but he had to do it. He didn't know Keath or Harlton well, but he hoped they would see reason. Wode he was certain would if given the chance. The terms of your surrender that I am allowed to offer you in the name of King Ranma stark and Queen Daenerys Targrayen is as follows," he said, pausing as all three of his listeners jolted in astonishment. They had heard rumors about the dragons returning and even a few sightings connected with the fall of Harroway, but they hadn't heard that the two families had actually joined.

After a moment Jason went on. "Complete and total capitulation and surrender of your men and yourself, whereupon you and they will be placed on trial. If you or any of your men are found guilty of any crimes against the smallfolk of the Riverlands, you will be tried as anyone would be for such crimes in times of peace."

That part his listeners had no problem with. None of them had allowed their men to pillage Blackwood lands, though Jonos Bracken had not been as wary. Nor had they taken part in the rapine going on anywhere else, having only joined the Lannisters after they won the battle at the Kneeling Man's Ford. But it was the only part of the terms they wouldn't have a problem with.

"As houses that have agreed to aid the invaders of the Riverlands, an act of treason against your Lord Paramount, you will also face harsh penalties, not only you but your men as well. If found innocent of further crimes, your men will be forced to work for the crown on various public projects for five years or take the black. Any levy forces or smallfolk that you have added to your army will be forced to work a year on those self-same projects. Their food and shelter will be provided for them, but that is all."

At that Harlton and Keath began to mutter angrily, though Ser Wode seemed to perk up somewhat.

"You and your House will be facing severe monetary penalties to be decided after the Westerlands Army has either been destroyed or driven out of the Riverlands. However thereafter your house will no longer be able to raise more than fifty armsmen at any given time, and you will be held to that by crown oversight." The angry glares sharpened at that, and Keath seemed about to interrupt but Jason went on bleakly. "And you yourselves will have to step down and either be exiled to Essos, join the Penitent Brothers on the Quiet Isle, or take the Black. None of this is negotiable. But if you do surrender, I'll put in a good word for you."

By that point Keath it had enough. He bellowed angrily, "Those aren't the terms you give to an equal, those are terms you give to a supplicant! You don't have nearly enough men to win this battle that one-sidedly if you win it all. You expect us to simply bow our heads like that? At least when they courted us the Lannisters offered concessions in the future. Your offering the return of the dragons, which I'll remind you our Lord Paramount fought against in Robert's Rebellion and hard words of treason with no mead to help the swallowing?"

Jason shrugged. "Those were the two are terms I'm allowed to offer you, and I would think that Ser Barristan's presence here as part of the Queen's personal guard would show how much honor there is in our cause."

Ser Barristan spoke up then. "The pulling whelp that sits on the throne isn't legitimate, he has not an ounce of Baratheon blood in him, and moreover is a beast even worse than the Mad King when he sat on the throne. The Lannister's promises to you are nothing, their honor is nothing."

"You say that like it matters!" Lord Harlton spoke up, just as angrily as his fellow lord. "The Lannisters have gold, real coin, and were willing to pay for our loyalty! You honestly think we'll go into exile just like that?!"

Smalljon spoke up then holding up a hand. "Those terms were decided on before we came across the Trident," he said coldly moving his horse forward to stand in front of the others of the Northern/Riverlands delegation. His voice was deep and cavernous in his large chest and when he spoke his voice had the bite of anger and contempt. "You didn't do as the houses that gathered at the Ruby Ford did, sitting on the sidelines and defending your lands, you willingly joined the Lannisters in the rape of their smallfolk and their war against your neighbors! Have you been down the road here, have you seen what they have done to the town of Sallydance? That sight is everywhere throughout the Riverlands because of the Lannisters, and those are the people you have aided."

Harlton and Keath glared at him, but Wode looked away, shaking his head sadly.

Smalljon went on his voice becoming even grimmer. "We were asked by the Queen Daenerys to give you the opportunity to surrender. Personally, I would've already ordered the attack and slaughtered you and yours without remorse. Which is precisely what we will do if you don't agree to the surrender terms. And my lords, I should add that that doesn't apply to just your men here but to your Houses. Your women will be forced into the silent sisters or into exile, your lands seized and your keeps, if the men you left behind are foolish enough to try to stand against, us will be pulled down. Your houses will never again be noble houses or even knightly ones, they will simply cease to be entirely, just like Haigh just like Vypren, just like Erenford and House Frey."

As the list of already wiped out houses went on his listeners paled, but still glared back defiantly. Ser Wode looked more contemplative, but didn't say anything. " If you think you can take us," said Ser Keath growling the words, "you come ahead and try." With that he turned along with Harlton. Wode took a moment to nod his head formally to Ser Barristan before turning his own horse around and trotting back to their army with the others which by this point had finished forming up into battle lines.

"A diplomat you are not Smalljon." said Ser Barristan laughing quietly. "Ser Wode at least listened, I don't doubt that he and his will split off soon enough."

"The others will run." Jason said as he led the way back to their own army. "I know their type, all bluster and fury on the surface but I think they've taken the measure of our army well enough to realize they really don't have a chance of fighting us, not given the fact that I know Tytos Blackwood and his men will sortie the moment battle is joined. They'll be caught between our two forces."

"I can't say I care one way or another." said Smalljon growling slightly under his breath. "They've made their bed, now they can fucking well sleep in it."

Jason called over Tristan as soon as they were back in with the rest of the army. "Keep your men separate, at least a few of those lords are going to run and I want your force ready to split off and head after them as soon as they do."

"Agreed." Tristan said, then he smirked. "I take it that the discussions didn't go well?"

"Never bring a walking talking giant to a political discussion." said Ser Barristan shrugging his shoulders. "Though given the terms her majesty authorized us to give them I doubt that a battle could've been avoided really. The king and queen showed their youth there."

"You think so?" Smalljon said turning to him with a smile that was somehow humorous and grim at the same time. "I think they've shown remarkable intelligence really. After all, Houses that turn their coats like this once might be tempted to again. And after the war is over, their lands can then be incorporated into other loyal Houses."

Sir Barristan paused then nodded thoughtfully not having thought of that.

Not ten minutes after the two groups of delegates had moved back to their opposing armies a horn bellowed from the northern side and the pike regiments began to move forward along with the archers, who shifted slowly behind the pike. The heavy cavalry moved slowly moved with them, still shielding the archer's flanks.

Archers on the other side also began to move forward, firing at the pike and their fellows, but plate armor and helmets the pikemen used was as heavy as most heavy cavalry could wear, and so at a distance Riverlands archers couldn't penetrate them, even having trouble penetrating the chain mail the pikes wore on their arms and legs. The northern longbows however began to tell on the opposing side, and soon the infantry on the other side broke into a trot racing towards the pike.

In response the pike regiment began to spread under Smalljon's firm control and horn commands, turning into a triangle shape. One flat end faced the enemy, with the archers now securely inside the triangle along with the heavy cavalry and majority of the light cavalry. The only exception was Tristan and his men, who had broken off from the army directly backwards, then to the side, entering the copse of trees on the left flank.

This was a move that Smalljon, Ranma and his unit commanders had discussed several times, though it would be the first time that it would be used in battle. Pikes were after all vulnerable on their flanks, the weapons were so long they couldn't be turned quickly. The battle against the Lannister army near the Ruby Ford had occurred in an area where the pike regimens couldn't be encircled. It had been deliberately planned that way in fact.

Here the land was flat, former farmland, good rich farmland that would hopefully yield another cropped after this battle was over. That meant the army might well be encircled. And Smalljon didn't have any of the irregular infantry with them. However the triangle formation protected the archers and the cavalry from taking any losses, while not allowing the pike to be flanked.

The two armies met with a resounding crash, and the pike once more proved effective against infantry as well as cavalry. The cavalry, what limited numbers there were, couldn't break through the front ranks of pike, the horses shying away from the solid wall of steel. The infantry crashed into it as well, thought their losses weren't quite as high in the initial push as the cavalry's.

Quickly however the infantry realized they couldn't get through the wall of pike four lines of pikemen thrusting their pikes in a single direction. In response and seemingly without any orders from their commanders, they began to spread to both sides as Smalljon had predicted. For a moment the enemy infantry must have thought they had found the edge of the pike formation, only to run into more pike at the corners, then being frustrated by running into two more walls of pike stretching behind the northern formation.

Seating on his horse Ser Barristan was in the center of the formation, and saw all of this happening. The archers too began to tell, hundreds of men on the other side dying as the powerful longbows did their work even on heavy plate, which was not in much abundance over there anyway.

The moment the enemy force had come around both sides of the pike's front side there came a loud horn blast from the Castle. The portcullis came down, slamming into place as the gate behind it raised. "Our roots are strong!" shouted a voice, which Barristan could hear even over the clamor of battle. He watched with a faint smile on his face as House Blackwood forces poured out of their castle to attack the army that had besieged them for the past several months in the rear.

Lord Tytos Blackwood was a canny commander and ordered his archers to remain in place the moment they were within their own long-range, then ordered his cavalry in first to hammer the opposing army from behind, quickly bypassing the earthworks the besieging army had created around Raventree Hall. Those earthworks served to funnel his heavy cavalry into five smaller units, each led by him and his sons, but they still struck hard. This series of hammer blows shattered what little formation they had for his footmen to exploit, racing after them.

The former Kingsguard commander nodded over to one of the pike regiments troop commanders. Not having memorized the horn blows to command them Barristan had to rely on the other man to pass his orders along. "Signal the pikes to open at the back, let our own cavalry out to play." Then he waved a large Red Flag in the air. This was a signal for Tristan to begin his own attack from the flank.

"I suppose I need to get to work then." Jason chuckled, then nodded at Sir Barristan, before flicking his helmet's visor down moving to join the heavy cavalry.

It was only moments after the enemy army found themselves stuck between two opposing forces that the men of that army began to break. The first to do so were Lord Keath and Harton, who raced off with a force of 100 light cavalry to the south the moment Blackwood had slammed into the back of their army. Of course most of that army was already panicking, but that seems to be the final straw, and dozens, hundreds of men threw down their weapons and raise their hands in the air shouting parley, surrendered, or settings "King's Justice!"

This was the call men gave to throw themselves on the mercy of the crown. Hearing it now showed that the men had heard at least some of the terms their lords had so angrily turned down. But a year or even five years of hard labor were much better than death in battle, especially in a battle they had no chance of winning.

Those hundred were caught by the forces of House Ryger, and for some odd reason neither of the Lords survived that encounter.

Ser Wode did not run, surrendering with his men the moment the Blackwoods attacked the back of the army's formation. And having moved his men back from the forefront into the center of that formation he saved most of their lives, though his own future remained uncertain.

An hour later watching as the new prisoners were rounded up Jason nodded at the older man. "I'll put in a good word for you. I believe their Majesties will take into account that you surrendered willingly, and that you are merely following House Whent into your treason."

Ser Wode nodded. "I will willingly go into exile if it means my men's lives will be spared for now. I'll have you know that none of my lads had anything to do with any of the atrocities the Westerlanders committed elsewhere, or even here on Blackwood land. I executed two of them who did."

"Will they be willing to stand as witnesses to any that were?" Asked Jason. "Their majesties like to have witnesses to such before passing sentence."

Again Wode nodded wearily, impressed at how much justice and the rule of law seems to matter to these two new young royals. That speaks well of the future, even if I won't be here to see it.

At that moment Tytos rode up, pulling his helm off and laughing delightedly. "Jason, you old fox! By the old gods, what is happening elsewhere to let you have a force like this here so quickly!" He looked over at Smalljon who was walking up, cleaning the point of the pike he had borrowed for the battle. His greatsword was nice, but it didn't have the range to let him join the pike regiments without taking up one of their weapons.

"A lot my friend," Jason said reaching up and catching the other man's arm in a grip of firmness. "I don't suppose you and your house can feed my army can you? We've got some food, but we split off from the main force with only enough food to get us here with a little more as an emergency."

"I can do that and more." said Tytos, laughing again. "I pulled back my smallfolk and all of the foodstuffs they could gather into Raventree well before we were besieged, and I've always had more than enough supplies to last months on hand in any event. I think I can safely say that you and your men earned a few days provender on my accounts. Now," he said seriously leaning forward eagerly. "Tell me what's been going on, and what's the meaning behind that banner of yours?"

OOOOOOO

Years later when the historians were finally able to take the time to write up the history of the War of Reformation they would call this the Battle of the Breadbasket. This was a humorous name for the battle that, in many ways, was the pivotal moment of the Stark/Lannister portion of the war. Historians argued about that, but those in the know said that if he still had the supplies that had been stored in Stone Hedge, Tywin would have either escaped entirely or forced Ranma and Daenerys to slaughter his army, which would have had major implications later. Of course it wasn't simply one battle, sieges weren't like that. It was instead a series of clashes, some of them light desultory exchanges of arrow fire. But some were very heavy indeed…

A man next to Arya went down with an arrow through the eye. She unhesitatingly reached down grabbing up his bow and began to fire back at the men stationed on top of the very rickety, very makeshift siege tower. It was little more than three stories tall, and thus wasn't actually very useful in sending send men onto the wall. But it made for a very good forward fire position, allowing them to shoot up at the wall with much better accuracy than anyone among the defenders was happy with.

To make matters worse the hides protecting the siege towers, had been liberally dosed with water, making them all impossible to light on fire. Luckily the towers at each corner of the castle as well as the main gatehouse could still fire down into the archers on top of the tower, and she watched as more half a dozen men went down from fire from the nearest towers as well as one of the oxen that had pushed the tower into position. There wasn't enough hide to go around to make some kind of cover for the oxen, or for the men who were now desperately trying to move the tower back out of arrow range.

However the tower had still done its work. All around Arya siege ladders had slammed up against the wall that had been badly denuded of defenders, and she raced along pushing at the nearest one, trying to push it off the wall. A second later Arya ducked as several other archers from another siege tower began to fire on her.

Edd waved at her from further down the wall by the nearest tower, motioning her to stay down for a moment. Looking at him in confusion for a moment she then spotted why. In one hand he was whirling a length of rope whose end had been set on fire.

Whirling it side-along Eddy tossed it high into the air over the siege tower to land among the oxen behind it. The oxen bellowed and terrified began to pull hard at their leads. The entire rickety structure of the tower shook as they both bolted in different directions. Fire arrows from that same tower began to streak down, not at the men on top of the siege tower but at the oxen and the men trying to control them.

The fire finally did its work and with wrenching sound of tortured wood the oxen finally went out of control, pulling segments of the tower out with them. The entire structure was so rickety that it began to collapse to the screams of the men that had been on top.

By then more men had rushed out of the tower behind Roger, led by Dacey while she raced towards Arya. Arya took the opportunity to stand up again, turning rapidly and racing back down the way she came pushing more siege ladders off but several men had already made their way up onto the while, killing four more archers that had defended it. They were being held up however by two Mormont men, both of whom had better armor than they did.

The two of them held their end of the wall while Dacey and Arya attacked the invaders from behind. Dacey's strength and sheer ferocity served her well on the parapet with its close confines, but even she had to shake her head at Arya.

Arya took to the air like a true master of Ranma's aerial style, leaping here and there, her feet and Fang flashing out with equal deadliness despite the fact it put her in danger from the enemy archers. At one point she actually twirled around in midair to dodge an arrow, allowing it to pass within a bare pinky length of her chest before she landed feet first into an enemy armsman's face. Fang flicked out, taking the only attacker who was armed like a knight in the visor, cutting deeply into his face.

She then flipped forward, her legs latching onto another man's head before he could raise his blade. Then Arya twisted her body so strongly she threw him off the parapet before landing on the stones herself, Fang blocking a strike from a short sword at the same time.

Eventually they won through, pushing the final siege ladder off the wall, once more, both sides having taken heavy losses. Elsewhere a shout went up from the front of the castle. "Battering ram coming up!"

Arya and Dacey looked at one another and Arya nodded. "Go, we've got this." Dacey nodded back then turned, racing along the wall.

The battering ram in question was a much more serious example of the breed than the one the Westerlanders had used in their initial attempt to storm the castle. It had a roof and that roof had even been covered by heavily watered down leather. It didn't have wheels, and it looked to be very cumbersome, but it gave the men carrying it some defense from the defender's fire.

Dacey stared down at it from the vantage point of one of the arrow slits in the gate tower, frowning heavily. "You think they'll be able to get through the portcullis with that?" Asked Roger, coming up beside her to stare out over her shoulder.

"Possibly," Dacey said shaking her head. "Eventually anyway. The outer portcullis will defend the actual gate well enough, but we'll need to do something to dissuade them."

"Burning pitch?" Roger gestured to a murder hole directly over the center of the gate, behind which a large cauldron stood. From the top of the cauldron came faint wisps of vapor. "I don't know how well that would work on the ram's sloped roof though, unless it's too small to either side to protect the men under it."

There was a loud "Boom!" as the battering ram slammed into the outer portcullis, causing Dacey to frown even more. "I don't think that will work, we need some way to attack the men on the ram, but that won't work?"

"Light it on fire." Edd stated, coming in from the door that led out onto the wall. In one hand he held a bow, in the other a fire arrow that hadn't yet been lit.

"You really missed your calling didn't you, my friend?" Roger asked almost whimsically, though his eyes were narrowed in thought. "You should've been a pyromancer. That could work though, not certain how well the fire would catch on the wet-leather covered roof though, and we need to be careful it doesn't spread to our own gates."

Below the battering ram boomed again, and Dacey frowned. "Let's wait on the fire idea, Roger's right it'd catch on our own gate."

Edd actually pouted slightly, then smirked at the other two. "In that case, we could hurl down caltrops. That'd force the ram's users to pull back. Then we could toss the cauldron out to land on it far enough away so the pitch couldn't spread to the gate, and then light it up."

Roger rolled his eyes, but nodded at that idea, to the backdrop of another boom from down below. "That actually sounds like it could work."

The two men by the cauldron were both Mallister men who had been seconded to Dacey's command because they could swim. Not as used to the strength every Wolfsworn could call upon they looked a little dubious at the idea.

"Roger and I will toss the cauldron, you toss out some of the caltrops and then get ready with that fire arrow of yours Edd." Dacey ordered.

The Karstark youth grinned in anticipation, moving over to a heated brazier for a moment. Dacey and Roger were easily able to heft the cauldron, shocking the two men there. The heat of it was highly uncomfortable, but it was bearable thanks to their gauntlets and armor.

A moment later the two of them were on top of the gatehouse's tower. "Ready, Edd?" Dacey shouted to be heard over the sound of the ongoing battle.

"Ready!" Came the shout from below.

The battering ram had indeed been forced to retreat for a moment, while a few of the men who had been carrying it howled, having not seen the small caltrops until they actually stepped on them. Now it had pulled back from the gate, allowing some other men to rush up under the cover of their shields to see if they could remove the small, jagged pieces of metal that the castle's blacksmith had prepared for the defenders.

Roger and Dacey looked at one another, then began to count down, backing up from the edge of the parapet. Then raced forward. "1,2,3, go!"

At the word "Go!" The cauldron flew out from the tower. Cauldrons of course were not very aerodynamic, and the cauldron only went about twenty feet before it started its downward descent.

Halfway there it turned over in the air, dumping its contents out onto the back and rightmost side of the battering ram. The stream of pitch hit, and an instant Later Eddy's fire arrow 'thunked' down onto the leather covered wood that made up the top of the ram amongst the pitch. The pitch ignited instantly, and as it spread so too did the fire.

A few of the men who had been using the ram screamed as the pitch carried the fire underneath the protective roof of the ram, quickly retreating out the back of the ram towards the attacker's lines.

Dacey watched as the ram, not covered by the wet leather, caught fire. She smiled grimly as she saw the attackers elsewhere around the castle retreating in disorder. "It seems the fight has gone out of them today."

OOOOOOO

Hathan sighed softly, shaking his head that evening as he stared at the other Wolfsworn around the table. "60 men dead today, another twenty four injured." With his injuries he had been relegated to the position of supply officer, and as with everything else he did he took it seriously. "We can't sustain that sort of loss very often. We're also running out of bandages and burn salves, though the rest of our supply situation is simply excellent."

"Don't think we'll have to. The army out there's beginning to have problems, you can tell." Dacey said shrugging her shoulders. "It's slightly too large to live off the land even here in Bracken territory, since that first Westerlands force scared off most of the smallfolk. They've only got a few more oxen after today's action, after that they'll have to resort to manpower."

"The storms haven't helped their position at all." said Arya with a smirk on her face. One storm had hit only a few days after the initial Westerlanders arrival, and another had hit three days ago. She'd loved watching the violent storm hit their camp, while she was safe and snug in the gate tower. "Their camp also is not as organized as Ranma's made all of ours while on the march. I don't doubt they'll start seeing diseases show up soon enough."

She smiled and nodded at Bess was serving them. Arya really was thinking of asking to take as a servant when it came time to leave Stone Hedge. Since she wasn't knight she couldn't really have a squire, but a page could work couldn't it? It wasn't only men that could have them right?

"Even with our losses today morale is still good." Hathan replied. "And you're right, I doubt they can say the same.

"Any news from the four-legged grape vine?" Roger asked.

Arya grinned evilly. "Ranma's across the Trident and is within two packs hunting territory of her, though he's moving up towards another packs territory or former packs territory actually, since they vacated the area by the river."

"He is attacking the fortifications at the Kneeling Man's Ford." Dacey said nodding her head. "Makes sense, he can always swing down from there to attack this army from behind he needs to."

"That's not all…" said Arya in a singsong voice, pulling the younger girl down next to her with a grin and rubbing her head affectionately. "The dragons are flying in front of the army every day." Bess gasped, not having heard any of the rumors about the dragons among the man before this.

"Then they're really going to use them…" Dacey said her eyes thoughtful. "That should send a very powerful message, though I'm not certain what kind of message really. Dragons were so feared during the reign of the Targaryens, we might be hitting a hornet's nest if we actually use them in battle."

Roger shrugged. "They were already used in battle a few times, remember? Ranma and Daenerys told us about them fighting against the Shadow Warriors and the smugglers out of Three Sisters. I take your point though, since the rumors of their use would spread a lot faster if they were used around here, but I think on the whole it would be more helpful to see them in action, especially if Ranma and Daenerys are not… frivolous I suppose, with their use. I'm also wondering where Tywin and his main army is."

"Can't help you there." Arya said, sipping at her mulled wine. "Wolves can't see colors, and patterns on cloth mean next to nothing to them, so they're not very good at telling one group of men from another."

At that moment Edd came in sitting down with them and sighing wearily. "They're going to try a night attack."

All of them stiffened. This wouldn't be the first night attack, but following up a heavy day's assault with a night attack was something new. "How do you know?" asked Roger.

"They're preparing fires out there, and I saw several of the oxen moving into position at the back of the army's fieldworks around the main gate. They have something back there I can't tell what, I thought initially it was initially another siege tower, but it looks like some kind of covering for the oxen. I think they're going to try to rope the outer portcullis and pull it out of its hinges.

Arya frowned, gazing over at Nymeria thoughtfully. "Are they still attacking?"

"We're only exchanging arrows for now. I think they're trying to lull us into a sense of complacency for the night attack, though I don't think even Lord Bracken is stupid enough to think that at work. "Sorry girl," he said, looking at the youngster. "But your father hasn't exactly impressed us since this battle began."

Bess shrugged unconcern. Many noblemen really didn't have much to do with the rearing of their daughters, seeing them as simply pawns in the great game. While Lord Bracken wasn't quite that bad he didn't have much time for his youngest, who saw him as a stranger who sometimes patted her on the head in passing. That attitude had quite a bit to do with the fact that Lord Bracken and his wife hadn't had a son yet, and with every daughter he had become more and more irritated by that fact considering the number of sons Tytos Blackwood had produced. There were questions of manhood involved.

"They really are getting desperate lately." Dacey said grimly. "I wonder if it's just that the food issue, or if Lord Tywin is returning, or something else. Now we just need to think about combating it."

Arya laughed. "You know, Nymeria's been feeling left out of things lately. I wonder what the oxen would do if she suddenly howled as near as we could get her to the oxen they're going to be using for this attack of theirs."

"Excellent idea." Edd said snapping his fingers. "Wait until right before they try to hook the device they're trying to use up onto the portcullis, then have Nymeria howl out from right inside the gate tower. That close, it'll panic them."

"Hmm… that is a good idea." said Dacey nodding her head. "And here's another one, I want every archer we have ready for tonight. If they're trying to grind us under, I think we need to show that they aren't having any effect at all, that we're still here and still strong." All of the Wolfsworn agreed with that idea, and Arya went to the stables to find Nymeria.

In the deep of the night Arya and Nymeria stood him in the him gate areas directly above the gate, with Nymeria sniffing the air. Meat, meat-animal, four-legged, strong beast creature, slow, easy meat.

Arya shook herself, she had been trying not to warg with Nymeria ever since the siege began, except when hearing messages from her brothers, but sometimes she seemed to almost unconsciously slip into it like moments like that, when Nymeria had caught the scent of a prey animal. Direwolves after all were not kept beasts, they lived to hunt. Being inside Stone Hedge only being fed prepared meals had irritated Nymeria quite a bit. She understood or at least was willing to go along with things for now, but the irritation was getting to her.

Arya nodded over to where Dacey stood, looking out of the nearest arrow slit, the fires that normally burned here in the gate tower damped down for now. "They're coming."

At the same moment, the sounds of a battle began to be heard from the back of the castle. Several of the remaining makeshift siege towers had been moved into position to rake the wall there with arrows. However Roger was over there, along with half of their men. For a moment Arya wondered if the strength of that defense would convince Bracken to pull back for the night. After a moment however Nymeria once again nudged her in the side of her head whining very softly. The prey beasts were getting closer.

Forgetting her reluctance for a moment, Arya quickly linked to Nymeria. With the direwolf's enhanced eye vision night vision Arya could actually see the beasts coming, along with many two-legs, all of them covered by something which looked like a giant tent, but with leather sides.

Evidently they had simply removed the top of the battering ram from that afternoon and men were actually carrying it over the two oxen that were linked together to some kind of winch system the end of which was being held by other men. Those winches ended in four grapnels held by more men, and would no doubt be thrown to hook into the portcullis so that the oxen could be used to pull it out of the stone.

Arya didn't honestly think that two oxen would be enough for that, they were supposedly strong beasts, but that strong? But she didn't really have that much of a history with them not just because she was a lady and had never farmed in her life, but because the North didn't have any of the animals. Moose, elk and other hardier beasts were used as beasts of burden in the North. The Karstarks and the Umbers in particular made use of moose.

"All right," she said finally. "I think they're close enough." She broke the link between her and Nymeria patting the giant creature under for her job. "Do your thing." Nymeria seems to huff in amusement then leaned back on its haunches and began to howl. "AWOOOOOOO!"

The sound was loud, wild and an unadulterated. This wasn't a howl intending to carry any specific bits of information, this was simply a howl to say "here I am!" in as bold and as loud away as possible. It told any creature that had any sense that here came the ultimate predator of the forest, of the field, of anywhere it damn well pleased, and you either better run or be able to climb a tree.

"GROOhhhhoo…" The oxens outside certainly got the message. They squealed in panic, slamming against their leads and once again it didn't take long for them to shatter the contraption they were tied to, much like the oxen that Edd had scared the day before with fire. The men around them tried desperately to control them, while a few began to shout for the retreat, since it was obvious that their attempt at a sneak assault had failed miserably.

Dacey now added her own bit to the battle, nodding her head over Edd, waved his hands outside the tower. "Now!"

All around the wall men who had been hiding undercover of the parapets stood up, and began to fire down into the men clustered around the gatehouse. Other men suddenly pulled off the tarpaulins that had been covering the brazier's in the gatehouse, lighting up their fire arrows and firing them out into the night quickly, not really aiming at first just giving the other archers light to see by. Not two minutes later, both of the oxen were dead on the road leading up to the gate, unable to get out of arrow range before they were felled, and the attackers had retreated in disarray to the army's camp.

The attack on the back of the Castle had also ended quite badly, where Roger had also made liberal use of fire arrows, not to light up the siege towers themselves, but to like the night enough to give the rest of his archers the ability to fire much more accurately than otherwise. Two of those siege towers had been emptied of their men, though they remained where they were, a potent threat until their hides dried enough to have them be set alight at any rate. And the other had collapsed, a lucky fire arrow had gone over the top of the tower to hit a bit of the tower not covered by the watered down hides, quickly lighting it on fire.

Roger watched all this from one of the towers, chuckling quietly. "It's not been a good day for the Brackens and their Westerlands allies has it?" The men all around him laughed then went back to fire more arrows at the stragglers of the assaults as they retreated back to the rest of the Army.

OOOOOOO

The next day Arya was sleeping in, as were Dacey and Roger, though Edd was once more on the wall. He had conked out the moment the assault last night had ended, while the others had stayed up just in case. And now he watched frowning thoughtfully as in the distance a loner messenger on a horse that most definitely looked as if it had seen better days arrived. He turned to one of his men and said "Go get Dacey and the others up, I think something's about to happen."

OOOOOOO

Lord Bracken stared aghast at Ser Greenfield. "You can't! If you pull your men back…"

"I'm not the only one being ordered to pull my men back Bracken." said Ser Greenfield irritably. "You are too. Lord Tywin is ordering a full retreat and that means your men as well."

"No, dammit!" Bracken said slamming his hands down on the small table that was set between them. "We have those Northern bastards on the ropes, we can't pull back now, that's my House's seat! By the Seven I will not…"

"We don't have them on the ropes and you damn well know it! If last night's debacle didn't show you that, you're stupider than I expected." Greenfield barked out. No great military genius himself, he knew that they had not been doing well since the siege began. Last night was indicative of the troubles they were running into.

They didn't have the tools to really build proper siege weapons, or to dig tunnels underneath the walls, and their makeshift siege towers, while a good idea, hadn't been enough. One of his men had been a remarkably bright fellow in the number of different makeshift siege weapons he came up with, and Greenfield was going to do his best to see that man survived, his mind might prove to be an asset in the future. But they just didn't have the tools or other supplies necessary to build the weapons they needed to get into Stone Hedge.

Personally Greenfield blamed Bracken for all this despite the fact that it had been Lord Tywin who had ordered Bracken to take most of his men down to besiege Raventree Hall, leaving only a small force behind to hold his Castle. It really should've been enough of a force, but apparently it had been taken by subterfuge something they had learned since the start of the siege from accounts of a few of the local smallfolk.

And of course those smallfolk aren't helping us any longer, even if their Lord is with us. Dammit, my men aren't saints, how can they be expected to act like eunuchs? Greenfield scowled angrily shaking his head and concentrating on the present conversation once more. "We've lost Bracken, we need to pull back. If Lord Tywin is in full retreat, then something major has happened elsewhere."

He turned to the messenger before Bracken could respond staring at him. "You have any idea what that is?"

The messenger nodded grimly. "Lord Lannister suffered a major defeat against the Northerners and was forced to retreat to the Ford, but the Starks have married the Targaryens and they've brought dragons! Lord Tywin ordered the Ford abandoned, we're pulling back now."

For a moment the mention of dragons struck both Bracken and Greenfield speechless. Not just the fact of their return, but that they were going to be used in war once more. After a moment, Greenfield shook his head asking, "What are our losses?"

"Horrible." The younger man bluntly. "We were down to barely half the army after the battle, and we lost a few thousand more as we retreated. Even with your men added to our force, I doubt we have more than six or at best seven thousand men. "

Greenfield's eyes widened then he gulped loudly at the enormity of the disaster that had befallen in the Westerland Army. No wonder Lord Lannister was retreating, if he lost any more men, he wouldn't be able to stand against even Stannis, let alone the forces of the Reach. "We're pulling out." said Greenfield, turning to a few of his own messengers. "I want us moving…"

"No!" said Bracken, pulling out his sword on the other man. "I'll not abandon my seat like this!"

Greenfield rounded on him as the men all around them reached for their own swords, the men behind Bracken also going for the weapons. The Westerlands knight growled angrily. "If you want to stay here with your men and keep trying to hammer your way through a mountain, then you're welcome, I'm taking my men and retreating!" Inwardly he winced knowing that Lord Lannister would not like that, but it would be better than taking the losses trying to subdue Bracken would cause.

"Fine, flee you coward!" Bracken blustered angrily. His men had been at the forefront of the last few days fighting, and he was down to only about nine hundred effectives, and about six hundred wounded and sick. Arya and the Wolfsworn had been correct, disease had begun to move through the man a few days ago, such things always moved faster through encamped armies that didn't take care to organize themselves, especially with the weather helping things along.

Jonos Bracken knew he couldn't win this siege without the Westerlanders aid, which added another few thousand effectives to his force. Still, he had one more thing to try, and it was not in his nature to show weakness. "Go, flee, run back to your lord like the craven dog you are. The Lions of the West, hah! The Wolves have had your number from the fucking start, I just wish I'd be there to see the Stark pup take the old lion's head!"

"Lord Lannister will return, you'll see Bracken, winning a battle or even a campaign is not the same thing as winning a war! The North and their allies will learn that to their cost!" Greenfield barked back, slamming his half-drawn sword back into its sheath angrily before turning back to his messengers. "What are you fools waiting for!?"

At their commander's order the messengers raced out of the command tent quickly. Greenfield turned back to Bracken and the two men spent a few moments glaring at one another before Jonos snorted and turned away, leaving the tent with his men. By the time the sun was right overhead, the Westerlands portion of the besieging force was ready to go and soon enough they marched away, leaving only House Bracken's men behind to try and reclaim Stone Hedge.

OOOOOOO

Ranma, Daenerys and their portion of the army arrived close enough to the need in of the Kneeling Man to send Meera and her few remaining scouts forward, but what those scouts reported was surprising.

"They're abandoning it!" Meera reported quickly. "I think Lord Tywin and his army arrived yesterday, and they're already pulling out retreating southwards, I saw a force leave in that direction."

"We need to get in there now," Ranma said sharply. "If they keep falling back they might be able to break contact. But if we can sweep them away we can bring Brynden across and use his men to keep the pressure on. We might even be able to encircle them if we hurry."

He looked over at Daenerys grimly. "I think it's time."

Daenerys nodded back just as grimly, then with Merry holding her in place in her saddle concentrated on her connection to her dragons. Both of them had spent that morning in the small carts that were their home whenever they were resting from flying, the only carts that remained with the army after Harroway in fact. She smiled at them both as they lifted themselves out of their cars in front of her then leaned forward scratching them under their chins before mentally ordering them into the air. With her guiding them Sunfyre and Rhaegon quickly flew ahead of the army towards the forward.

While Ranma was busy ordering the army to advance at a trot, Daenerys saw the defenses at the Kneeling Man ford from her dragon's eyes. Already panic could be seen men below as they spotted the dragons well out of bow or even scorpion range in the sky above them. Luckily the defenses didn't include any scorpions, but still there were too many archers down there for her comfort even if very few of them had more than a few arrows apiece.

My little ones have gotten very good at dodging, but this is going to be a very chancy affair she thought to herself, taking care not to send her worry across their leg, only assurance and pride. She watched as the army below finally realized they had an attacker on their flank, not just her dragons to fear, causing even more consternation. She even spotted Tywin for a moment, before he ducked into a tent which quickly came down, and then she couldn't spot him again.

The man must have exchanged his normal gold and red enameled armor for a normal armsmen's armor in that tent! Smart of him, but if he thinks it is going to save him, he should think again.

Meera and her scout fell back as the army advanced, moving to cover its southern flank just in case Tywin had the idea of trying to send out a spoiling raid into the flank of his own attackers. The pike regiments formed up on the River Road in full view of the army that was still busy trying to decamp. Daenerys could also see dozens of men simply making a run for it, fearful of the dragons and too badly demoralized to try and stand against the Northern army.

Moments later the Northern and Riverlands army marched fully into site of the Kneeling Man forward the dragons still circling above it. Now Fenris sat on his haunches and began to howl. This added to the fear of the men inhabiting that camp. The army began to hear the shouts and screams of fear as well as the whinnies of a few horses, trying to bolt away from the sound of the alpha predator.

Psychological warfare at its finest, Ranma thought grimly. He looked over at Daenerys. "How large an army are we looking at?"

"Counting is hard through dragon eyes, beloved." she muttered gripping Merry's hands where they were around her waist tightly. "They have one, pack, herd, that's about it. I think, I think we're still looking at least a little over a third of the army that retreated from the battle back on the other side of the Red Fork. I thought I had Tywin himself in my sight, but he disappeared into one of the tents, and though my dragons can see in colors, they're not very good at patterns or pattern recognition yet. He must've changed his armor, I can't…"

"Daenerys, it's alright, really." Ranma said soothingly, reaching up to squeeze her leg lightly. "Do they look like they're going to try to fight?"

"They're already turning some of the catapults to face this direction." she growled, trying to split her attention between her two dragons and Ranma's questions which was extremely difficult. The human mind was not supposed to be able to see from two different angles! Added to that was the need to command her dragons and to have enough presence of mind to answer Ranma's questions.

"All right, in that case we should begin."

Daenerys nodded grimly, and raising her hands in an unconscious gesture then moved them down slowly. Sunfyre and Rhaegon both obeyed quickly, diving down towards the army's encampment. Arrows began to fly up at them, but by this point they had become very adept at dodging those, and their flames had, while not becoming any hotter, could last far longer. And instead of hovering in place to concentrate their fiery breath on one place like he two dragons didn't stop for even a second. Instead they strafed past the catapults and ballistae below.

Rhaegon was first to get in range of his target. He let loose a long tongue of flame, which impacted the top of the ballista, spreading quickly despite two men who had tried to throw up buckets of water onto the wood of their siege weapon. Rhaegon continued to blast out his flame, catching one man and then setting the next ballista in the line before pulling back up into the air. Adding insult to injury he did a little roll in the air to dodge a few arrows before he was out of range.

Sunfyre went for a ballista near the outskirts of the Westerlands earthworks, burning it to ash with a single tongue of flame. Holding his fire in for a moment he banked slightly to the left, then let loose a ball of fire that burst onto one of the small log barracks that had been constructed here. The logs of the barracks immediately caught fire and screams of burning men soon added their own horrific cadence to the chaos. Sunfyre then turned again moving away from the came out and away slightly while swerving this way and that to dodge the few arrows coming his way before ascending back into the sky.

Daenerys gasped opening her eyes as she something that hadn't been obvious before. "They're nearly out of arrows!"

"I told you supplies don't just mean food, they need fletching, they need good seasoned wood for arrows, and arrow points. Arrow points are important, no one seems to think about these things." Ranma chuckled evilly. He then nodded over to Greatjon. "The army will advance."

Greatjon guffawed and raising his hand to the men all around, shouting. "you heard the man, forward!"

Ranma turned back to Daenerys whose eyes had glazed over again. The exultation her dragons felt when using their flames was almost but not quite sexual in nature, and Daenerys was having trouble controlling the link now. "Destroy the other catapults, then call your dragons back." he said softly, reaching up to tape her arm gently to get her attention. "Okay?"

Daenerys nodded, smiling faintly at his concern. "Okay. It's not the first time I felt that, it was just a little more intense this time."

IN response Ranma nodded, patted her on the shoulder again before nodding at the men all around her, men he had assigned as guards for this mission. Then he pulled Ice out of its sheathe before pulling himself up onto Fenris' back. "Winter is Coming!" He bellowed, then shot forward with the army all around him.

"For the King and Queen of the North!"came the reply all around him. The heavy cavalry broke into a trot behind Ranma, the pikes forming up in dense, company size blocks as they too marched forward, the irregular infantry spreading out to let them through before taking up positions each company's flanks. It was a sign of the discipline and organization Ranma had instilled in them in the march down from Winterfell that this move was accomplished with only the initial orders coming from him. Even the heavy cavalry was disciplined, not charging every man for himself, but keeping to a line abreast.

At the sight of those disciplined companies advancing remorselessly on their gutted fortification men began to throw down their weapons and surrender in their hundreds. This was hastened by the very short arrow duel that occurred a moment later, with the Northerners winning it easily and wiping out several dozen men on the opposing side. With their catapults destroyed, no arrows, and having not fed very well at all in the past few weeks plus dealing with all the other little issues that crop up when an army is cut off from its supply line just didn't have the heart to fight.

Of course that didn't stop Ranma from ordering the army to encircle the camp, and they turned back several dozen men who had tried to make a break for it. Hundreds more broke out over the ford, only to be caught by Brynden's command and killed to a man.

Lord Spicer was in charge of the men left in the fortification, and after a moment he came forward to kneel formally to Ranma. "I surrender myself and my men, placing us in your hand and at your mercy." The older man said formally. "We have no food, we have no arrows, many of us have no weapons, and with those dragons overhead we have no hope."

"I only ask that you do not turn your dragons on us, Lord Stark, Lady Targaryen" he said looking over at Daenerys, who had just ridden up, still surrounded by her momentary guard. His eyes widened slightly seeing her and the princess sharing a horse and seemingly close to one another, but he quickly turned his attention back to the Young Wolf.

Ranma nodded then gave him the same terms he had spoken about to the Sparrow so long ago, while Greatjon led a search of the camp for Tywin Lannister. Spicer frowned, but given his men's current position had no choice but to agree. With that the Northerners moved in, the men they had captured throwing down what weapons they had, and were quickly tied up, chained or otherwise detained, before being moved away from their weapons. They would be sent in small lots up to Fairmarket and from there to Seagard, with Lord Mallister sending the majority of his men back to guard them.

During this process Greatjon's search came up empty of the old lion, though he did return with a younger Lannister. The youth looked a little older than Ranma and his attitude more resembled that of someone who had just had his world view demolished but he was still able to answer Ranma's questions.

His voice trembled and had a monotone quality to it, showing he really was suffering from shock. "Lord Lannister and the rest of us arrived back here yesterday, where he heard a report from one of his spies and then pushed on immediately with the best armed and fed among us. We were supposed to follow up quickly today in small groups."

Ranma nodded thinking hard then sent a messenger across the ford to find his uncle Brynden and his men. He turned to address Greatjon and Daenerys, but before he could Lord Spicer spoke up. "My lord, what kind of treatment can my men and I expect under your care?"

Suddenly Ranma saw the image of that ruined farmstead, the bodies of men and women they had seen here and there as they marched down the River Road. A terrible fury gripped him, and his hand clenched on Ice's hilt. Now Ranma hovered on the brink of striking Spicer, an unarmed prisoner, down in cold blood, then ordering the massacre of his men.

Thankfully for the prisoners and the future of Westeros Daenerys and Merry were both there. The two of them saw the flash of fury in Ranma's eyes and without any discussion the two girls moved to either side of him, linking their arms with his. Still Ranma stood still as a granite statue, his eyes burning with fury. Merry whispered into his ear from one side. "Don't Ranma, please, you're better than that, don't stoop to their level. Remember, you and Daenerys are supposed to stand for justice, not vengeance, no matter how tempting."

Daenerys shot the other girl a grateful look before leaning in to whisper in Ranma's other ear. "Remember that night when you found Sansa's message and we pledged to help one another with our darker urges my love? You helped me with mine then, now it is my turn to help you. The man I love might feel the rage I can see in you now, but he wouldn't act on it. My Ranma is a Stark, a man of honor who would not give in to fury and rage instead of justice. Do not do this."

For a moment it looked as if the two girls hadn't gotten through to Ranma but after a moment he closed his eyes shuddering in place as he fought back the fiery rage that had gripped him, condensing and controlling it until it was a thing of icy purpose rather than fiery passion. After another moment he opened his eyes, then released his grip on Ice's hilt. He nodded thanks to both girls, who smiled and moved back slightly.

Then Ranma turned back to face Spicer, his eyes, face and voice as cold as winter. "Your fate Lord Spicer will be much kinder than the actions of your Lord and your army deserve. If you personally took part in any of the atrocities here in the Riverlands, you will be executed, and any of your men as well. If not, you will be held as prisoner until the hostilities between the Westerlands and Riverlands have ended, whereupon your fate will be decided. If you and your men have not taken part in any of the atrocities here, then your family's power will be greatly reduced, but as you merely followed your Lord Paramount into the folly of backing his bastard-born grandson, you will retain your life and lordship."

The Lannister youth had recovered enough by this point to tried to glare up at Ranma from where he was being forced to kneel by Greatjon. But one look at Ranma's cold dangerous eyes caused him to flinch was quickly led away to be chained up well away from the other prisoners.

With that done, Ranma turned to Greatjon, and the others. "Let's get this lot organized and sent on their way, I want us after Tywin as quickly as possible." After that Ranma and the other commanders got to work of organizing the prisoner detachment and leaving enough guards on them as well as supplies for both. Once Brynden came across the Ford with his portion of the army, Ranma stripped the rest of the army of nearly all of its horses to give remounts to his men. Seeing the state of Brynden and most of his men he left them there, taking only the light and heavy cavalry that had been part of his own army and leaving Brynden there with Daenerys. Not an hour after Brynden's force crossed the ford Ranma stood at the head of the group he was taking, a little over two thousand men, light cavalry, heavy, and archers on horseback, made to move fast and strike hard. He looked up at Greatjon astride his horse and shared a nod with the older man before staring around at his troops. "The Lannister bastards are trying to get out of the noose! I'm not about to let that happen, how about all of you?" There was a roar from the mounted men. Ranma nodded grimly turned around and without another word raced off, with Fenris by his side.

Going by what Lord Stackspear had said, Tywin had barely beaten Ranma and his army to the ford by a single day, and Ranma found himself feeling a bit of admiration for the man for his quick reaction to the news his spy had reported about the dragons. Tywin knew he couldn't stand against us here, and he was ruthless enough to strip his entire army of everything he could use and then ran with a small enough group to last but a big enough one to be a training cadre later on. He really is smart, too smart to let him get away.

Left behind for the moment Daenerys, Ser Blanetree Patrek and the others set to organizing the prisoners, bringing in more foodstuffs, and sending word up to fair market to send her copies of the information they had gathered there on the depredations. The army, minus the Mallister men sent to guard the prisoners, would regroup at Raventree Hall.

For the next four days Ranma and his men pursued Tywin, coming close a few times but never quite catching up with them. The Lannisters were in far worse shape, but they had four remounts to Ranma's two and they were simply running away. Ranma was still wary of being lured into an ambush of some kind which slowed his forces progress, so even with Fenris ranging in front of the army they were moving much slower than they could have.

It was that wariness that allowed Fenris and the scouts with his army him to spot the force coming up from Stone Hedge to meet Tywin at the ruins of Acorn Hall. When his scouts reported that Ranma frowned thoughtfully scratching at the stubble on his face, making a mental note to shave it off as soon as he could. He hated the stuff and Daenerys had voiced her own opinions on facial hair months back. "If they're that close we're in danger of being caught between them. I wonder if it was planned that way."

"Doubt it,"Greatjon scoffed spitting to one side. "Fog of war lad, sometimes works for you, sometimes works against you. What are we going to do?"

"This new force is fresher than the force we've been chasing." Ranma replied. "That makes it more dangerous. We'll turn and deal with them."

"We could take them both you know, try and trick Tywin into attacking rather than running and wipe out both forces." Greatjon said.

"No," Ranma,said shaking his head. "We might be able to win that fight, in fact I'm pretty sure we would, but our losses would be heavier than I would like to see at this point. No, I think it's time for a little bit more subterfuge, coupled with a lot of force." Ranma tapped Fenris on the side and Greatjon's eyebrows quirked up right before he shrugged.

Ranma was been able to choose the battlefield where he would meet this second Lannister force. He decided on a somewhat hilly area, covered with small knolls dotted with clumps of trees around what looked like shallow riverbeds.

The Westerlanders coming from Stone Hedge had no idea there was an enemy force nearby and weren't even sending scouts out, a horrible mistake here in what was barely friendly territory. They walked right into the ambush, losing 100 men before they even knew what was happening to the archers Ranma had set up on one of the small hills. Then Fenris howled, and once again the voice of the direwolf did its deadly work on spoking animals that hadn't been inured to it. That took out the cavalry of the enemy, while the horses in turn disrupted the Westerlander's lines.

With the archers dismounted and working from their hill, the rest of the cavalry came around that Knoll intwo waves. One wave was comprised of the light cavalry and led by Ranma on foot. A few months ago that might have caused some very odd looks from most of the army, but after so long around their King such a thing wasn't very surprising. The other group was led by Greatjon and consisted of the pursuing force's heavy cavalry, a bare two hundred men.

Ranma hit first, Ice slashing through two men in one swing, cutting the first one cleanly in half at the waistline despite his leather armor and only gutting the second before he was in and among the infantry hacking away. All around him the light cavalry smashed into the Westerlands infantry at an oblique angle then wheeled away rather than get stuck in with them like Ranma had.

The Westerlanders tried to pursue, it was an automatic human reaction to being stung by something that was then running away. Then the heavy cavalry hit from the other side riding down the side of their formation and getting deeper as they went. In this manner they smashed almost entirely through the weakened Westerlands line on that side of their march, since they hadn't yet tried to create an actual line of battle.

Attacked from both sides and with arrows still falling among them, here and there men began to run away. After the past few weeks of making no headway against the force holding Stone Hedge and hearing what had befallen their comrades elsewhere, the troop's morale was in the cesspool. Most of them were not in the best of health for various reasons, and the shock and fear of the ambush did its work quickly.

Ser Greenfield had lost control of his horse when that damn direwolf had howled. Once he was back on his feet he tried desperately to rally his men, or barring that, leading at least a significant portion of them away back the way they came. But suddenly there was a wild, brown-haired, blue-eyed youth wielding a large greatsword, thrusting straight at him. Greenfield barely got his shield up in time, but the point of the sword smashed into and through his shield as if it was made of thin bark rather than iron.

Ser Greenfield screamed, his arm impaled on Ice's point. He tried to grab at his sword, which was still in its sheath, but never got the chance to draw it.

Ranma let go of Ice for a moment, jumping up quickly and bringing around his foot in a roundhouse kick that connected with the Westerlands knight's face throwing him backwards with a crunch of broken bones and releasing Ice from where it had been buried in the man's arm. Landing Ranma rolled under one man's desperate slash with a short sword, his elbow catching the man in the center of the chest and flinging him to the side before he picked up Ice again.

Then Ranma had to bring Ice around to block the blow from another great sword, throwing that man off-balance for an economical backswing that caught the men through the eye-slit of his helmet, blinding him. Ranma whirled again blocking another blow, kicking out at the same time in both directions smashing two other men aside like nine pins. Nearly surrounded, Ranma kicked, punched, hacked and cut, until at last people all around him began to surrender, throwing down their weapons. "King's Justice, King's Justice!"

Greatjon hacked one man who was still trying to fight down then rode up next to Ranma. "We broke them lad!" He roared gleefully. "I don't think more than a few hundred got away!" Then the older man sobered shaking his sword to clear it of viscera and blood. "Took too long though, and was probably too damn noisy. That tight-assed old lion will be long gone."

"He'll keep running." Ranma said coolly, cleaning Ice on a dead man's tabard. "Leave one of the unit commanders here with a hundred men or so to guard the prisoners." Looking around Ranma noted that that would actually be a bit of overkill unless the light cavalry brought back some more survivors from those that had tried to simply flee. He frowned momentarily, wondering how many of those men and gotten away, and knowing they would turn to banditry was a problem for another day however, and he turned back to Greatjon. "Reform the men as quickly as possible, I want us back on Tywin's heels before sundown."

That night the Army camped five leagues away from where that battle had begun, south and east of Acorn Hall, barely six leagues behind the Lannister force, which was pushing itself on through the night. It wouldn't help them, not with Ranma and Fenris on their heels.

Ranma also knew now where Tywin was going. Knowing that Wayfarer's Rest was held against him, he wasn't going to try to cross the Red Fork and try to get around the keep that way. He's going for the Tumbler's Falls,he can expect to find friends there. But only if he reaches it…Ranma thought to himself, watching the progress of the Lannister 'army' through Fenris' eyes as the wolf hid nearby.

That night Ranma out of his army's camp, sneaking past the very vigilant guards he had hand-picked to guard the camp at night. They were proud of being chosen for that duty knowing how Ranma was worried about Tywin trying some kind of ambush or sudden night assault. Of course, with Fenris out there watching the Lannisters it wasn't really necessary, but Ranma wanted to hide his ability to warg with Fenris and as many of the subtler abilities the direwolves had for as long as possible.

He needn't have bothered even with Fenris though. Tywin knew he had been beaten, and he knew that if he was captured or killed, the future of his house would be in dire straits. Tywin wasn't a coward, but he did fear for the future of his House if he passed. His brother was good as a second-in-command, but lacked the will to be the one originating the orders.

Ranma met up with Fenris about twelve leagues to the west of the direction the Lannister force was moving. Once again Ranma opened his in Fenris full connection, and after a moment Fenris began to howl.

OOOOOOO

Jonos pulled his men back from the castle for a time, sending most of his men out to gather up men from the smallfolk who were in the area, a much harder job than it should have been after the past few weeks, but eventually they had a sufficient force for Jonos's desperate plan. The workers began to dig a tunnel to undermine the outer walls of Stone Hedge, something that Greenfield had attempted, but failed at since Stone Hedge was situated mostly on a rocky outcropping.

The 'mostly' was a secret Jonos had wanted to keep, since if it got out, then the only real weakness of Stone Hedge would become known to others, something his family had kept secret since the castle was built. This had forced the besiegers to try other means, and they had paid for it, but up until the most recent attack Jonos had been able to force Greenfield to use his forces, husbanding his own Houses' men. That was no longer the case, but if he could get into the castle Jonos felt he still had enough force superiority to win the day.

The southeastern wall was not in fact built on the rocky outcropping of the rest of the castle and it was there Jonos sent the smallfolk to work. While his men kept up small hourly attacks on the gatehouse and the front of the castlepulling the defenders attention away the smallfolk worked day and night on creating a tunnel. The end result was a small, narrow tunnel leading up to the wall. Then it was supposed to move out to either direction under the wall but that never happened.

Before the tunnel was ready, the news began to spread that the Westerlanders were in full retreat, and there was a northern army moving to relieve Stone Hedge from the burned ruins of the fortifications at the Kneeling Man's Ford.

Jonos heard this in his tent, and he ranted and raved, but there was nothing he could do. His desire to keep his castle's one real weakness a secret had backfired badly. NO! No, I won't just sit here and let them take me. I'd rather die! With that thought in mind, Jonos ordered his men to form up for a pure assault. The Westerlanders had left their grapnels and siege ladders behind, so there were hundreds of them ready to be used.

The archers were first moved around the walls, striking where they could all at once, forcing the defenders there to keep their heads down. A few men with ladders would then rush forward, trying to get up the wall. Despite the archers fire however, they could not win against the defenders, who had nearly every advantage in the book. Dozens of men were lost, but still Jonos urged the archers to continue to move around the castle, then, on the exact opposite side of the castle he send his entire remaining complement of battle-ready armsmen, leading them himself.

This surprising mad rush actually caught the defenders by surprise. Dacey had ordered half of her men to rest at all times, fearing that the Lannisters would return with reinforcements, Fenris not having sent news just yet to Nymeria, being too busy elsewhere at that time. And she had also not realized that the attackers still had so many grapnels and siege ladders. So there were only about three hundred men on the walls, most of whom were archers concentrating on the archery duel, moving with the attackers along the wall.

However, Eddy and Arya were both on the wall with a dozen men of House Mormont and Mallister spread between them. They had been waiting, spread out between the towers when the alarm was raised from the other side of the castle.

By this point Jonos and more than three dozen men were already up on the parapet, racing along it to get to and hold the doors into the towers while more men kept pulling themselves up the ladders. Jonos himself led the way into the tower where Arya was.

The first two men through the door had died to Arya's blade before a lucky blow from a mace numbed her arm even when she moved with the blow, forcing Arya to back away from the door. The same mace wielder dueled with a Mormont man for a moment, pushing him back to allow his fellows access to the tower. Jonos barreled in with his men, scowling as the armsmen right in front of him died, his throat slit right where his helmet didn't quite meet his chain mail. Jonos' scowl worsened as he saw the man's killer. "You! The little wild bitch, I've seen you on the wall before this. Let's see how…"

Arya growled, leaping forward and interrupting Jonos with a furious assault, pushing him and the man next to him back, but the room was now so crowded she couldn't use the full aerial style. "This is a fucking fight, so fight traitor!"

In the next moment two of the Mormont men with her were down, leaving Arya and two others to try and hold back the Bracken men. Arya held the center of the line against Jonos and his fellows, while the two Mormont men concentrated on defending her back and each other.

The battle in the towers seesawed back and forth, but the defenders held long enough for Dacey, Roger and the others resting in the keep to be warned and move to reinforce their fellows. Nymeria, who had been getting a brushing down from Bess, bolted toward the tower where her mistress was fighting.

The wolf raced up the steps, smashing into and through the inner door of the tower's room, and into several men who had just been able to circle around the trio of Northerners. Those men went down to her fangs and claws with wails of agony, and Jonos and his fellows to a man stepped back in fear.

Arya smiled coldly, holding fang point first in one hand held above her head, her other hand empty and thrust forward. "Awww, are you big strong men afraid of the big, bad wolf?" Her smile disappeared and she charged into their middle with Nymeria at her heels. "Winter is Coming!"

The Bracken men weren't cowards, and they stood and fought desperately now, but the sheer strength and power of Nymeria turned the tide against them in that tower, while Dacey and Roger had already relieved Eddy. Together the three of them were pushing along the parapet, clearing it of attackers while behind them their men took up position, hacking at the ropes and siege ladders, spilling the men climbing them back onto their fellows below.

Again Arya and Jonos met sword to sword. The older man had a reach advantage, and was a decent warrior, able to use his hands and feet as well as most. But Arya was something else entirely. She moved constantly, here there and everywhere, and her martial skills were better than any opponent Jonos had ever faced before. It was only because his men kept on trying to interfere that allowed Jonos to survive for long against the young Stark girl.

But when the last of them fell to one of the Mormont armsmen, Jonos found himself all alone. Before he could try and run back out the door onto the wall, Arya locked blades with him, then kneed him in the corotch hard before wrenching his blade out of his hands then a brutal jab smashed into his armored head, sending his helmet skittering away over the bodies of the dead piled hear in this room.

Before he could do anything Jonos was on his back looking up blearily at Arya, whose blade was poised to plunge into his heart, chain mail and all. "Do it" Jonos ordered, his voice a croak due to the pain of the last few moments. "Do it! I'll not live with Blackwood lording his side's victory over me!"

For just a moment Arya raised her blade to thrust down, eager to end this threat to the pack, but just as quickly it was gone, and the flat of her Fang slammed into the side of Jonos' head, sending him into darkness. "No, No I won't kill you traitor, not like that. I'm a warrior, not a monster, not an animal. And I don't want to have to tell Bess I killed her father."

OOOOOOO

Two days after the chase began it was raining again and Tywin was still barely ahead of Ranma's army, but they were closing fast. He knew his men were on their last legs, but they were only a bare day's journey from the head of the falls, where he would find House Keath and the barges he had ordered prepared via a messenger before he left the Kneeling Man's Ford. After learning how the Targaryen girl had arrived at the Ruby Ford , he had realized how badly he had overlooked the way river travel could aid his army, something he wanted to correct in the future.

At present those barges would let him get away from his pursuers using the power of the incredibly fast current of the Blackwater Rush. Using the river Tywin planned to head down towards the Golden Road or even King's Landing, though that was doubtful. He had a bare two thousand men left under his command, not enough men to do anything against the might of the Reach and Stormlands army under Renly, not even enough to face Stannis and the houses allied with him. Even if he could have met up with the nearly thousand men he had assigned to hold Harrenhal, he still would not have had enough men to take the field once more.

Tywin shook his head once more at the totality of the disaster that had befallen him and his army. The might of the Westerlands had marched into the Riverlands crushing all before it, forming into a massive fist that should have been enough to deal with the Starks in their allies before turning to face more dangerous foes. But instead he had been outmaneuvered and out fought at nearly every turn by a youth young enough to be his grandchild. The thought was galling, but Tywin shook it off quickly. My current strength can be used to form a training cadre for my next muster. And besides, there are other ways to wage war young Stark, you will find this out to your cost. You might have won a campaign, but…

Just then there was a howl of a wolf, nothing unusual these days, but his nephew's gasp alerted Tywin there might be something more to it. "What?" He barked angrily. "It's just the Stark's damn direwolf again trying to spook our horses." That had happened more than a few times eventually the beasts had become desensitized to it.

"I don't think so my lord." Daven said, loosening his sword in its sheath as he stared ahead grimly. "Not unless he somehow got in front of us."

Tywin didn't bother to gape at the youth or argue and try to say that was impossible instead he simply whirled to face his men. "To arms, 'ware front!"

A second later the arrows began to hit his men from the right flank and front where the howl had originated.

OOOOOOO

While interesting things happened elsewhere, Jon Stark had been having it relatively easy the past few weeks since taking Wayfarer's Rest. There had been a point where he thought they might have been attacked when a few Westerlands scouts were spotted, but no attack appeared. Then came the news from Nymeria that Arya and Dacey had taken Stone Hedge, changing the makeup of the campaign beyond what Ranma and Jon had anticipated.

Then a bare five days ago came the call from Fenris, saying that the lion had retreated, and that the wolves were after them. The howl didn't really offer a lot of information, but it covered enough for Jon to know to lead a small force out to try to interject Tywin's advanced towards the falls.

It was a very small force, only twenty men with all the horses his company had taken from the defenders of wayfarers rest in the first place. But 15 were archers, while the other five were clansmen, directed to defend their fellows up close. In the rain that would be very important, though it hampered his archer's ability to aim. But with the Lannisters as packed on the trail as they were at present, that really didn't matter.

Nearby Ghost howled, a slightly lower timber than his larger brother's but still bowel loosening to all who heard it. He then joined Jon in charging out of the woods to slam into the front of the marching column with the force of a battering ram. At the same time all around them Jon's archers began their deadly work.

Tywin had responded quickly, sending out two-hundred men in the direction the arrows were coming from the forest in front of him while bringing up his few remaining archers to try to find the archers attacking from the flank. That those men would be a write-off as the rest of his force raced on their way was something he was willing to bear.

But Ranma and his force were quite a bit closer than Tywin had anticipated. Fenris had been at work all day, killing the scouts Tywin had covering his rear, allowing Ranma and his army to be practically on top of the Lannister column.

"King of the North!"came the bellow out of the rain, and suddenly the back of Tywin's column disintegrated as it was struck by mounted men in heavy armor, slamming into their fellows and the mounted infantry, while behind them the light cavalry spread out all around Tywin's army.

That was the final straw for many of the armsmen and even some of the knights. The hammer blows had never stopped coming since that battle on the other side of the Red Fork, not letting the Lannister army have any respite. The Westerlands armsmen were good, loyal men in the main who had given their oaths to their lords and would keep them. But there was only so much you could ask of any man and this was simply one too many shocks. Dozens broke, surrendering or scattering, making the Lannister's attempt to create a shield wall impossible.

Tywin barely had a few moments to rage internally at the sudden upheaval in his fortunes, to rage at Ranma Stark and wonder how the boy had been able to contrive this, before he was forced to defend himself from a northern heavy cavalryman riding up out of the pouring rain to attack him head on.

Tywin was old, and had never been the swordsman his firstborn son was, but he was a decent one, and his opponent was already wounded having taken a straight arrow somehow in the side. He blocked the first few blows, then wheeled his horse around to parry still another one before thrusting his sword forward to catch the man under his armpit. The northern barbarian gave a death rattle and fell out of his saddle and Tywin turned, his hands going for his reins and now only thinking of escape.

"RAARRHHH!" A huge monster of a direwolf suddenly leapt at him, bearing Tywin and his warhorse to earth. His horse went down with a whinny of fear then was silenced forever by a single blow to its throat which crushed its barding and neck.

At the same time Tywin found his arms gripped in a steel vice. He stared in horror at the sight of his arm being clenched in the direwolf's mouth. He tried to scramble for a weapon but the grip of those jaws increased, and he desisted.

Nearby Stafford had been unhorsed as well, and he raised his greatsword trying to charge to his Lord's aid but screamed as something bit into the back of one of his knees almost tearing his entire leg off. He went down still screaming only to be silenced by a blow that knocked him unconscious despite the agony by a young man racing up with the wolf. The two of them turned back to back, slaying several more Lannister armsmen before smashing another blond haired youth to the ground. Another lay nearby, an arrow through his jaw and another in his side.

Daven fared somewhat better than the rest of his family. He was a better swordsman than either his Lord Uncle or father, and slew two Northerners in quick succession, getting underneath their horses and hamstringing the beasts to spill their riders to the soggy ground after being unhorsed himself. Then he found himself facing a giant who stood at least two feet taller than Daven and twice as broad across the shoulders.

"Not bad." The giant said almost conversationally, before unleashing an overhead strike with a greatsword that Daven barely blocked. His arms tingled with the aftershocks of the blow but he tried desperately to riposte, flicking his longsword forward in a vicious lunge. But the giant's shield blocked it, smacking his sword aside. Daven hurriedly turned with the force of the blow while ducking, taking several steps away from the giant and bringing his sword up again to block the blow that he knew was coming from the great sword.

But he just couldn't get enough strength into it. His longsword was smashed out of his hands, and then a fist like that of a god slammed into the side of his helmeted head. It actually crumpled the metal there, and he fell to the ground while around him, the battle slowly died down.

Ranma patted Greatjon on his shoulder as he strode up, Ice nearly black with gore. He tapped Fenris' jaw lightly, getting him to release Tywin's arm unharmed. He smiled coldly down at the older man, before leaning down and hefting him up in one hand by a grip on his chest plate. "Lord Tywin Lannister, I've been looking forward to this for some time. You my lord and your family members here are my prisoners."

End Chapter

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Okay, several scenes in this chapter were damn tough to write. Getting the tone of the Ironborn scenes was hard, and I'm not certain I did them as well as they could be. The need to keep everything straight in terms of a time frame was tough as well. The scene with Renly and Loras was very tough, very much out of my comfort bubble. I have no problem with people who write yaoi, but it simply holds no interest to me, and just yeah…

Initially I had thought that Tywin and a small cadre would be able to escape the Riverlands entirely to die/make trouble elsewhere, but decided given Ranma's warging ability to send information and the fact his portion of the Northern army hadn't faced real combat for weeks and was thus fresh it made no sense for Tywin to get away. Tywin's fate is still undecided, either to take the black or execution in the distant future, but until then, he is a hostage to the good conduct of his family. The Westerlands families are going to have a lot of their own issues to deal with given the debacle of their Riverlands campaign nor is Ranma and co. quite done with them just yet.

Those of you who might be worrying about Ranma curb-stomping everyone else as a general, don't. Tywin as a general was severely overrated, as was mentioned in the last chapter. Ruthless yes, politically dangerous yes, but that doesn't equate to being a good general.

On the battlefield, Stannis is by far the most dangerous opponent among the humans. When they face one another it will be a far more even contest, made worse by other enemies making themselves known. And Remember, even after the War of Reformation ends, Ranma will have to face the Others and their forces.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it and hope that at least some of the things that happened in it came as a surprise as well. As always read and review please.