Baldric
He had been a household knight sworn to House Falwell, clad in mail and wielding a morningstar. He had slain at least half a dozen men before he was overcome and captured. Now he was naked, shivering, and tied between two posts in the courtyard of Lord Grafton's castle.
Gulltown was still burning; Lord Grafton was leading efforts to put out the flames, but he had yielded the castle to Jon Waters. Many suspected that Lord Grafton had known much more than he had claimed, but there was no proof, and all were too weary from the fighting to begin anew.
It had been a night of savagery. Baldric had rallied his bannermen and fought his way towards the tower where Jon Waters had been permitted to stay. Along the way, Baldric had united with several men who were also being attacked. Adlin Lannister had barely survived the night, losing an eye to a knife slash and the tips of four fingers on his left hand to an axe blade. Alekyne Tyrell had been trapped inside his quarters and burned alive; his remains were unrecognizable amongst the ashes of the collapsed building. Wyott Baratheon had been taken unawares whilst drunkenly copulating with a whore in his bed. His severed head had been thrown into the street, along with his severed genitals, still slippery from sex. The whore's body had not been found, which suggested to Baldric that she had been involved in the plot.
Jon Waters had very nearly been killed when three assassins had tried to slay him, and only the intervention of Jon's squire had allowed Jon to awaken and defend himself. The squire had died of his wounds, much to Jon's fury and grief. Now he ordered several of the slain blacksmith's tools heated in his forge.
"You will tell us the truth of this treachery," Jon blazed, "else you will take hours to die!"
Baldric said nothing. He was consumed by rage and bitterness over what he had endured in Gulltown, but a part of him was also deeply unsettled by the sight and sound of the captive. Nobody was looking at him, and doubtless they were all repulsed by his dying whimpers, but no man stepped forward to give him mercy. Perhaps it was because they did not wish to provoke the bastard prince, or it might have been that they thought he deserved such a cruel fate. Uthor Dalt certainly deserved it...
The knight protested, just as Uthor had. He claimed this was undeserving of a knight, just as Uthor had. When the first metal rod, glowing red at the tip, had burned off two of his toes, the knight screamed just as Uthor had.
Ulrick Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, stood close to Baldric and beheld the torture with a look of disgust. At first, Baldric thought the knight disapproved of the torture, but Ulrick made no protest, nor did he look away. He must feel the same as I do... Thinking of the men he lost... The same could be said for the other men who stood by and looked on as the knight's left thumb was burned black.
"Talk!" Jon screamed as he paced around the wailing knight.
He did not give in, but his mutilated corpse was enough to persuade the other prisoners to speak.
It had always been known that men throughout the Seven Kingdoms had grievances with King Daeron. His supposed illegitimacy, his Dornish policies, his Dornish court, his weakness, his lack of war prowess... To these men, the Black Dragon had seemed a worthier man to sit the Iron Throne. It did not help that over the years, men who spoke favourably of Daemon had found themselves slain or imprisoned, and whispers abounded that spies were being sent out by Brynden Rivers. In such a realm of fear and suspicion, more men joined in the plotting.
Thus, Daemon Blackfyre's supporters had been planning treason for a length of time that none of the prisoners could agree upon, nor could they confirm that Daemon had ever done any of the plotting himself. The knights known as Bittersteel and Fireball were often named as having visited the various kingdoms to speak favourably of Daemon as the true king whose throne was stolen from him.
The expedition against Skagos had proved a useful opportunity for the plotters. The rebellious lords had sent as few troops as they dared, or none at all if they thought it possible to avoid the trouble. Those men had travelled with both contingents, sending ravens and reports to the other lords. Word had come from the North that Baelor was dying of his wounds, and then there had been the news that Daemon Blackfyre was being unjustly arrested. Word came to Gulltown, and the plotters had joined the rebellion.
One man revealed what had been planned for the Vale. Lord Arson Tork, better known as Redtusk, would lead a rebellion in the Vale against the Arryns of the Eyrie. It had been arranged that Wiglaf Arryn of Gulltown would take his cousin Donnel's place as Lord of the Eyrie once the rebellion was successful.
"Bring Wiglaf Arryn to me!" Jon demanded heatedly. It was too late, however. Wiglaf and several of his family had fled the city long before the battle was over, and their remaining family swore that they had not known of any treason.
Other men proved easier to prove guilty of treason. Raymont Swann, Judos Bolling and Benedict Cafferen had been among the ship-burners, along with all their followers. All three of these treacherous lordlings had escaped capture or death, fleeing the city before it was secured.
Westermen had also participated in the attacks. House Algood, House Ruttiger, House Lorch, and House Falwell had all sent men with Adlin Lannister, and they had assisted in the killing. Ser Horys Falwell was dead, as was Ser Hector Algood, but their compatriots had escaped.
Not even the Dornish had been excempted from betrayal: Lord Lucifer Yronwood, Ser Uthor Dalt, Ser Tion Blackmont, and Ser Nadrik Fowler. All of them had been slain or captured in the close quarters of the city.
None had slain their fellow countrymen either; Dornish soldiers had gone after the loyal stormlords, the stormlanders had burned out the loyal reachmen, the reachmen had attacked the loyal westermen, the westermen had attacked loyal Dornish houses... it had been a carefully planned-out attack, and it might very well have succeeded.
Thankfully, the plot had suffered setbacks from the very beginning. Baldric had not been the only man who had awoken early and witnessed the attacks; innocent smallfolk had raised the alarm. Several of the leaders had survived the attacks on their lives.
Of the men who served House Dondarrion, the three leaders of his knightly vassals had survived, as had his former squire, Ser Branston Straw. Many others had fallen, among them several household guards of Blackhaven and Simon, Blackhaven's master of horse. Baldric had wept as he'd arranged for their bones to be sent south.
Now he struggled to keep his tears in check as the truth behind these senseless deaths washed over him. He watched grimly as a man-at-arms beheaded the prisoners who had spoken of the plot, granting them swift deaths.
"Traitors," Jon Waters snarled as he kicked a severed head out of his path, "I was surrounded by traitors!"
"And who knows how many more traitors abound in the realm," Ser Forrest Lyberr observed darkly.
"Judging by House Swann's conduct," Baldric suddenly interjected, "I have a good wager which of the stormlords are traitors."
"Who are they?" Jon Waters demanded crossly. "And how do you know?"
"Swann, Cafferen, Caron, Cole, Musgood, Bolling, Kellington, Grandison, Lonmouth, Cole, Mertyns, Peasebury and Morrigen," Baldric answered. "They all feasted together in Stonehelm, and I refuse to believe that any one of them was innocent. They were all in league." You were right, Cassana, you were right all along to mistrust them. Gods be good, mine own family... He paused only when he thought of Ser Maynard, his loyal master-at-arms, and regretted that he had named Maynard's family as traitors. I will vouch for him, and mayhaps he can even become the head of his house. Branston is ready to take his place until Captain Royce retires...
"Even if Lord Dondarrion is correct," Adlin Lannister interjected, "that only accounts for the Stormlands. Who knows how many more houses across the realm are in open rebellion as we speak?"
"All the more reason to take action," Ulrick Dayne exclaimed.
"Our objective was to sail north and join Prince Baelor," Victor Fossoway protested.
"Sail north?" Ser Adlin turned to Lord Fossoway with a look of contempt. "And pray tell us, with what ships will we do that?"
"Baelor might be under attack himself," Lord Fossoway snapped. "Do you propose we abandon the Crown Prince to our enemies?"
"Do you propose that we abandon our families?" Ulrick Dayne glared at the apple lord, as Lord Fossoway was known.
"What are our families in the face of the realm?" Ser Malegorn Cobb interrupted. "Is it customary of the Dornish to abandon duty so readily?"
Dawn left Ulrick Dayne's sheath in the time it took Baldric to blink. The Dornishman pointed the sword's point at the hapless Ser Malegorn. "Defend that slander with your body!"
"Enough!" Baldric stepped forward and pushed the Cobb knight out of the way. He stood before Ulrick Dayne and held his hands out to show he was unarmed. "We cannot quarrel amongst ourselves. All it will accomplish is the laughter of Daemon Blackfyre."
Ulrick's face was twisted with anger, but he lowered his sword all the same.
The marcher lord turned to Jon Waters, who stood over the headless corpses of their prisoners, brooding heedless of the commotion around him.
"Your Grace," Baldric called, "you must command us. Whither will we go?"
Jon looked up at Baldric as if he was seeing the man for the first time. Then his expression darkened, and he stepped forward. "We cannot sail to Prince Baelor without ships, and nor will I wait in this city for those ships to arrive. The realm is under attack, and I mean to defend it. Skagos must wait."
Discounting the dead, the wounded, and the deserters, fewer than seven thousand men were left of the second contingent. Jon remained its commander, and Adlin Lannister continued to command the Westermen. Since Damrod Martell was away in the North, Ulrick Dayne was chosen to lead the surviving Dornish forces. There was a fierce argument over who should command the men of the Reach. Finally, Lord Oswin Crane was chosen on account of his age.
"And what of the stormlords, Your Grace?" Baldric asked once the other matters were resolved.
Jon Waters regarded him with a strange expression. "Did you wish to nominate someone?"
Baldric paused, unsure of Jon's intent. Feeling foolish for his delay, he suppressed his diffidence and spoke carefully. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I do not know how many of the others have survived, but I will follow whomever you choose."
Adlin Lannister snorted with laughter. When Baldric glanced at him, he saw that others were similarly amused, though they tried to hide it.
Jon ignored them as he spoke again. "Given that you are the highest ranking stormlord left to me, and given how you have constantly proved one of my most redoubtable men, I cannot think of a better man to lead the remnants of Wyott Baratheon's host."
Baldric was bereft of words. He gave a low bow to Jon, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards. He could feel Adlin's gaze upon him, but he followed his prince's example and ignoring it.
"Now that you have made your appointments, Your Grace," Ulrick Dayne interjected curtly, "may I ask where you intend to lead us if not to Skagos?"
Baldric looked from the imposing Dornishman to the bastard prince. His face was set in a frown, but he gave no answer to Ulrick's request.
"That... remains to be seen," Jon answered in a gruff tone. "But one way or another, I intend to meet Donnel Arryn at the Eyrie." He turned to one of the attendants that stood by. "Bring us a map of the Vale. And a table."
Soon, Baldric and the others crowded around the map, studying it curiously. They were joined by Lord Osgar Grafton, who assured them that the city had been secured.
"The Royces of Runestone are an honourable house," Lord Crane declared, putting his finger just north of Gulltown.
"Even if they have kept faith, Lord Royce led the Vale's contributions north," Jon observed.
"All the same, every little is a gain," Lord Grafton suggested humbly.
The others nodded at this advice. Lord Fossoway, determined to redeem himself after the incident with Ulrick, thumped the table with his hand. "I propose we ride to Runestone. It will be a long way to the Eyrie, and we will need to gather strength."
"They will not give up more of their strength to us," argued Ulrick Dayne, who still glowered with unfriendly eyes upon the apple lord. "They have given much already, and if the prisoners could be trusted, Blackfyre's supporters have kept most of their strength. For all we know, Runestone is already under siege."
Baldric shuddered. "Ser Ulrick is right. We cannot blunder into another battle without warning."
"Then mayhaps you can ride out and find the truth for us?" Lord Grafton quickly suggested.
Baldric was surprised at this suggestion. Before he could gather his thoughts, Adlin nodded his head. "An excellent notion. Little gets past Lord Baldric."
"So be it," Jon decreed, as if he had made the decision himself. "How many men will you require?"
Baldric paused, looking back down at the map. "I believe a hundred men will suffice. Two horses each, Your Grace, in case we need to flee from an ambush."
"Granted," Jon replied. "Go quickly, and see that you return in one piece."
*"* "* "* "*"*" *"*"* "*"*"* "*"*
Jon Waters was as good as his word. He had already threatened Lord Grafton with a vicious punishment, and Lord Grafton had put the city's resources at their disposal. New horses had been found to replace those that had been slain during the Battle of Gulltown.
All the same, Baldric was uneasy as he led his hundred stormlanders out of the city. Most of them were marchers sworn to House Dondarrion, for he trusted their prowess and their loyalty moreso than the others. To spare the need for wagons, the spare horses were all loaded up with supplies for each man.
Baldric had considered flying the red dragon of House Targaryen to draw support to his side, but he thought it better to avoid unwanted attention. More than anything, he feared a confrontation with his brother, Raymont. Even after all the ill he had caused, he feared the curse of kinslaying upon his conscience.
Two guides also accompanied Baldric, hired from the smallfolk in the city who knew the way. They determined that the journey to Runestone would take six days.
Despite the danger, Baldric could not help but admire the land upon which they rode. The Vale was known for its mountains and its harsh winters, but those barriers hid one of the most fertile regions of the Seven Kingdoms. Gulltown and Runestone sat upon one of several peninsulas, but this one was especially beautiful. There were no mountains in sight, only wooded hills in the distance, yielding to cultivated plains and wild-looking fields.
For days, they saw no sign of the enemy, nor indeed of any armoured men but for those who guarded the villages. Word had traveled fast from the city, and whenever they passed a settlement, they found them shored up for a defence against raids. Baldric approached several asking for news, but he was rebuffed every time.
"They cannot defend themselves from us," Ser Karl Penny tried to advise after the fifth such incident.
"What of it?" Baldric shook his head. "We did not ride to wage war upon smallfolk. Leave them be."
They rode on cautiously, moving northwards at a steady pace whilst keeping a sharp eye out for the enemy. It was not until they enter the territory of House Royce that they encountered trouble.
It was Ser Branston Straw who found the corpses. They wore the ancient sigil of House Royce, as well as several mortal wounds from arrow and blade alike.
"This bodes ill," Branston murmured. He had always been a tough lad, never shying from hard work or a chance to prove his resilience. Baldric had watched his former squire look away and plug his ears when Uthor Dalt had been burned alive. Now, he looked coolly upon several dead men as if he might be standing over the quarry from a hunting party. Gods, was it so long ago already that you could not stomach the sight of war?
For Baldric's part, he was dreadfully upset by the dead men; war coming to such a place as the Vale was unthinkable. The same region which had avoided bloodshed in Aegon's conquest and the Dance of the Dragons was now a battlefield, with armies racing across it in order to defeat each other.
More than that, however, Baldric was also plagued with worries about his home. Ulrick Dayne's words about family had embedded itself in his mind and had refused to leave. Even when he was dealing with the practicalities of riding to Runestone, and even when he rode beneath the unblemished sun, the fears of his mind cast a long shadow from which he couldn't escape.
Before he'd left Gulltown, he had asked a boon of Prince Jon.
"Send a raven to Blackhaven, if you could," he pled, "I must have them know that I still live. Tell my wife and sons that I wish to see them again, and I will fight my way across the Seven Kingdoms to fulfill that promise."
Jon had given a half-smile and nodded, "I believe you, Lord Baldric. I am glad that you proved yourself loyal to my family."
The words were pompously spoken, full of self-importance that Jon so often fell victim to revealing, but Baldric still held his head high when he'd ridden out. And although his high spirits faltered across the countryside, particularly when he found those bodies, Baldric did not forget the prince's endorsement. Would that you could be here to see me now, Cassana.