"Should we make a stop and pitch our tent now, Father," Obara asked while glancing towards the slowly darkening sky as they rode their horses through a rough rocky path amidst flatland filled with grasses.
They had left the Camp of Cats about an hour and a half ago, and while they weren't galloping at their fastest speed at the moment like they were earlier, they were still moving away from the camp at a constant pace, so Obara was sure that they should be out of the crosshairs of the battle by now and can take a rest without worrying, and besides... "It'll be night soon, Father, and I don't want to move blindly in these unfamiliar mountains."
"Just a bit more... and we'll reach a narrow gorge between valleys,"
The path that Oberyn was taking them through was somewhat of a shortcut to Myr, the nearest free city. But the path was still a relatively unknown one because the natural gorge they were about to cross was very unsuitable for an army to pass through... as it was the perfect sight for an ambush. But they could take this path without much fear as no one would bother to ambush them out here in Essos.
"So we shall camp at that canyon's entrance..." Oberyn continued distractedly as most of his mind was still back on the poison he had tasted in the camp.
The poison had just been too familiar for him to easily forget... the moment he had tasted it Oberyn had felt as if someone had taken a poison straight out of his own cabinet and then tried to feed it to him...
"Is that the Gorge you were talking about, Father," Obara asked about ten minutes later while excitedly pointing towards the rocky canyon in the distance.
She hadn't exactly had a filling dinner that day, and even though the poison had run its course through her body by now, it had still left her very weakened. So she was very relieved that they were soon going to set up camp as she wanted nothing more at that moment than to eat her fill and sleep the night off.
"Let's go then—"
"No! Wait!" Oberyn suddenly hissed while stopping his excited daughter from galloping towards their destination.
"Whoa! What happened?"
"Look at that," he calmly replied while pointing towards a thin black cloud of smoke that was almost invisible in the impending night, "There's a fire at the entrance... someone's here before us..."
...
The shadows danced wildly behind Jon as he warmed his hands around the fire. He was sitting on a rock located at the entrance to the gorge, while Sam was a few feet behind him, humming as he fed hay to Peggy and his own horse.
Jon had made the horses use their full speed to reach this location before their target so Sam's horse was completely exhausted, but Peggy looked as if it had been nothing more than a warm-up and was still good to go.
"They are here," Jon's abrupt announcement broke the silence of the night, startling Sam out of his zone. But it only took the young Tarly a second to gather himself and he immediately dropped the feed in his hand and jogged towards his luggage.
After taking out his axe and his shield from the luggage, he strapped them in before quickly running to stand behind Jon in an alert stance. After taking a few deep breaths, he began looking vigilantly at the tall grasses surrounding the entrance, waiting for their quarry to come out.
But they didn't...come out.
A minute passed... then two... and even when five minutes passed and his hands began aching from holding the same position, not a single came out of the foliage. But just as Sam was about to open up his mouth to ask Jon about it... he spoke up.
"Why not join me, if you're already here," he shouted while casually looking towards a point in the darkness where Sam could see nothing but tall withering grasses.
But once again, no one came forward... it was as if there was no one out there and that Jon had just made an embarrassing mistake, but Sam knew that that wasn't possible, so he didn't lose his vigilance in the slightest.
"Come now, I thought we already became familiar enough with each other after the last time we met... So do we need to be so vigilant of each other once again... Prince Oberyn."
A loud snort came from the darkness before two tall silhouettes on horses came out from amidst the grasses one after the other.
Both of them had the typical Dornish looks, one was a tall fit man with snake-like eyes who was looking at Jon with a not-so-amused smile, while the other was a similarly slender but muscular "man" with rat-brown hair and was looking quite irritated. Both of them carried their spear in their hands and neither of them bothered to get off of their horses as they came into the clearing in front of Jon and Sam.
"You know them, Father?" Obara asked abruptly in a hostile tone before Oberyn could answer Jon. The Dornishwoman was quite irate at the moment that just when a good night of sleep looked so close at hand, these people appeared and ruined it for her.
"Just some acquaintances I met during my visit to Citadel," Oberyn replied without looking away from the two lads, who had grown up quite a lot since the last time he had seen them.
The fat child who couldn't stop shaking due to fear last time, was now standing tall and fit, with an axe in his while looking at Oberyn with a nervous but determined gaze. And the other one, the one who had held a dagger to his daughter's throat right in front of him and had even dared to steal from him, seemed to have grown up to become even more calm and brazen... considering that he was still casually sitting on his rock uncaring about the spears in their hands.
Of course, unlike before, he now knew who they were.
There were not many 12-year-old fat runaway nobles in the world so he only needed a few days after their encounter to find out that one of the rats was named Samwell Tarly. The other one had been an enigma to him for a while... until he got that letter from his friend Willas Tyrell asking him to find out about a young northerner bastard named Jon Snow... and the pieces had quickly fallen into place after that.
"I am quite hurt, Prince Oberyn that you only think of us as mere acquaintances. I thought we had moved past that," Jon said with an amused smile on his face, "And besides we are now fellow Westerosi in a foreign land... so shouldn't we sit around the fire, share some stories and eat food with each—"
"I would have been delighted to do that boy if we had met on the road by a coincidence... but this is not a coincidence is it?" Oberyn looked quite calm on the surface but the tight grip he had on his spear could tell anyone that he was taking Jon a lot more seriously than the last time they met. "Because from here I stand, you two look as if you were waiting for us here... so can you tell me how that came to be?"
"Oh, that... Well, let's just say that the camp, you were part of a few hours ago, was on the opposite side of the one we were part of—"
"Ah! So you were the one behind that stunt back at the camp..." Oberyn's expression suddenly cleared as a lot of his doubts from earlier immediately went away, "It seems that you're putting that little book you stole from me to quite the use..."
"Oh, you have no idea," Jon said with a wide smile on his face, "Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have any more of those books would you, because it would really help me a lot," Oberyn's eyebrow wildly twitched at the brazen request, "and don't worry, I will adequately compensate you this time—"
"Ugh! Can you move this along, Father!" Obara abruptly interrupted with an impatient expression while shifting uncomfortably on her horse. She had grown quite tired of this back-and-forth between her father and this arrogant boy, "Are we killing him or are we passing him by? You just need to choose one of them..."
Oberyn had no reply to his daughter's question, as he was contemplating that very same thing all along.
If the boys in front of him were just some runts of nobles from back home, then he wouldn't have hesitated so much about it... but one of them had the potential to have a very mysterious identity, which was leaving him undecided at the moment, as he couldn't be sure that this fellow wouldn't be useful in the future when the shit hit the fan... so he felt that it would be quite a waste to kill him at the moment...
"She's Obara, right? The oldest one among your daughters," Jon suddenly asked Oberyn, while turning towards the woman cosplaying as a man, "It is quite an honour to meet you—"
"How do you know who I am," Obara cut off his greeting as her eyes narrowed and her fingers tightened around the spear at the casual way the man in front of her had recognised her despite her disguise, "I don't think we've met before..."
"Well, all the prince's daughters are quite famous, aren't they?" Jon replied with a shrug, "And I have heard that the eldest daughter is the—Er—most martially inclined one among them all..."
"You wanted to say the ugliest, didn't you?" Obara asked in a menacing tone while barely fighting the impulse to just charge and skewer the wretch in front of her.
He actually was, but Jon would be quite stupid if he admitted that, "No, I wasn't." so he denied it before immediately turning towards Oberyn to get back to his goal, "What say you, Prince Oberyn? Will you care to join me at the fire and share some food... I've got a freshly caught rabbit behind me... so we can eat, talk and get to—"
"Why?" Oberyn scoffed with a sarcastic smile on his face, "So that you can try and poison me for the second time in a day?"
"That is quite the ugly accusation, Prince," Jon replied with a raised eyebrow, "I take the guest rights very seriously, so I would never even think of doing something like that. After all, I am a Northerner... not a Dornishmen who are infamous for their killing of someone under a peace banner—"
"Argh! That does it!" Obara snapped, as the last taunt finally managed to breach her patience and she abruptly pulled the reins on her horse and charged towards Jon like an arrow, her spear raised and ready to stab the annoying scoundrel.
"Obara! No!" Oberyn cried only a moment after he saw his daughter's horse take off, but it was too late... and by then all he could do was hope that she only injure and not kill him...
But what actually happened was so wildly out of his imagination that it left him shocked.
The second that Obara's horse kicked off towards him, Jon was on his feet with his sword in his hand.
But even though he could, with his reaction speed, Jon decided neither to use his sword to kill the horse nor to roll out of the way and dodge. Instead what he did was just simply look into the eyes of the horse with an intense expression.
"Die! You Cunt—Argh!" At the last moment, just before she was about to skewer the unmoving arrogant Northerner in front of her, Obara's horse betrayed her and jerked to an abrupt halt, flinging her off of it, and sending her flying straight into the ground.
"Ugh!" Everything hurt for the woman, she felt as if she had fallen from a two-story building straight onto a rocky floor. There was a constant ringing in her ear and she couldn't even muster any strength in her arms to get up.
But thankfully, she could feel that nothing had been broken and she also didn't get stabbed with her own spear as he had thrown it away at the last moment... Now, she just needs to gather her bearings and somehow get up before...
"Bind her, Sam," Jon calmly ordered his friend, while coming to stand over the stunned and disoriented Dornishwomen with his sword pointed at her shocked father.
While keeping his eyes on Oberyn, Jon warmly patted the head of Obara's horse in praise before sending it to join their own horses behind him.
"Y-Yes!" Sam replied after a few seconds and ran over with a rope in his hands to tie the slowly coming about Dornishwoman.
The second he came out of his shock, Oberyn's first impulse was to immediately attack the Northerner to save his daughter... but he managed to stop himself at the last moment as he didn't want to go the same way as his daughter.
He didn't know how the boy managed to stop a war horse, that had been specifically trained not to hesitate even at the sign of a sword... but he did not want to take any risk so he immediately jumped off of his own horse.
"You know this would make it the second time that I have taken a daughter of yours hostage," Jon commented idly while moving away from Obara after Sam had finished binding her, "You should really teach them a little more patience..."
"Don't worry, boy. I intend to do the very same thing when we get home," Oberyn replied nonchalantly while ever so slowly circling around and making the Northerner move away from Obara.
"But you really don't need to be this tense, you know, as I am not going to hold your daughter's life against you... because from the very beginning, all I have been asking from you was for us to have a talk..."
"Well, then... Talk!"
"Uh-Uh, not like that," Jon said while shaking his head, "First you need to put down your spear and take a seat—"
"You want me to willingly give up my own weapon in a situation such as this?" he asked incredulously while looking at Jon as if he were a fool, "Are you out of your mind?"
"Well, we won't be able to have a constructive talk if you have your weapon with you... because then your mind will constantly be on the many different ways that you can kill me and save your daughter... which would make it all fruitless..."
While speaking, Jon had slowly begun moving his feet towards his luggage that was placed beside his rock seat.
He knew that it would be very messy if both of them got into a melee fight, and it would be hard for them to stop without one of them dying or getting seriously injured, and Jon didn't desire that... so he wanted to switch to his primary weapon so that he could conclude the fight without any bloodshed.
"Well we can also have a constructive talk if you're the one to give up your weapon," Oberyn replied snarkily while keeping his complete focus on the Northerner. He had already scouted Sam and concluded that even though the boy had improved compared to before, he would still be completely inconsequential in a life-and-death fight with him.
Jon sighed and shook his head as he knew that they wouldn't get anywhere like this so he abruptly bent down to pull out his bow.
The instant Oberyn saw Jon go for his bow, he took his chance and lunged at him with his spear.
But what he didn't expect was the speed at which the Northern bastard moved.
Jon had discarded the sword in his hand, picked up his bow, primed an arrow on it and then shot it towards Oberyn, all before he could take more than a few steps.
Thankfully, Oberyn instinctively flinched at the last moment and the arrow missed his face by a hair's breadth, leaving his back filled with cold sweats.
But even with the close shave with death, Oberyn didn't miss the chance he got and immediately stabbed his spear towards the half-kneeling boy, but alas once again the dastard Northerner demonstrated his speed and nimbleness as he dodged and rolled away at the last moment leaving Oberyn cursing as his spear got stuck in the ground.
"You missed, boy," Oberyn grunted while calmly pulling out his spear from the ground, "And now I am close enough to you, that you wouldn't be able to take another shot... so why don't you tell the Tarly boy to let Obara go before I am forced to gut you..."
"You know, I would have seriously considered your proposal if I had missed my shot... but did I really miss it?" Jon asked with a meaningful smile on his face.
"What do you mean—" Oberyn's words abruptly cut off and his eyes widened as he felt a sharp sting at his cheek.
He hurriedly raised his hand to touch his face and sure enough, his worst fear was realised when he saw a thin line of blood on his hand courtesy of a scratch on his cheek.
"Not to brag, but you see, I haven't missed my shot since I was ten, so you should be really thankful that I wasn't shooting to kill you..."
"What have you done—" Oberyn suddenly faltered amidst his rage as his surroundings suddenly shook as if there was an earthquake and his eyes began to grow blurry.
"Oh! Has it started already... That was quite fast," Jon commented in a mildly surprised tone as if commenting on the weather, "I guess, the wound being so close to your head helped the poison spread faster... what a novel thing to learn—Oh!" Jon abruptly stopped his narration and jumped back to dodge the spear.
"I'll Kill You!" Oberyn growled in anger as he lunged at the bastard disregarding everything else.
Even poisoned, his spear was accurate and fast as a viper's bite but Jon wasn't even playing the same game anymore as he kept jumping backwards not allowing Oberyn to pull him into a fight with his myriad jabs.
"You know, I would have loved to have a proper bout with you any other day... but it would be too unfair considering your situation at the moment... so why don't you give it a rest—"
"Argh! Fuck You!" Oberyn grunted out furiously but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't even touch his enemy.
And to make matters worse, all this exertion had only made his blood pump faster making the poison spread through his body even more quickly... and sure enough not even a few seconds later, he fell to his knees and began breathing heavily as if he was an old man.
Honestly, Oberyn felt less scared for his life and more humiliated at the fact that he had been almost poisoned twice by a boy third his age. He didn't think he would be able to live this down as a Dornishman...
"Don't worry, Prince... you and your daughter will be completely safe with me... so you can sleep soundly..." Oberyn heard Jon's fading voice as he fell on his face, "... and then when you wake up... maybe we can have our talk..."
And that was the last thing the Prince of Dorne heard before he lost consciousness.
...
The stretch of sea between the Free City of Tyrosh and the islands of Stepstones was considered the most dangerous place in the world for merchant ships.
Everyone knew that and it was something of common knowledge... But there were always exceptions in this world.
While some Merchants saw danger and loss of life in this place... other, more greedy, more ambitious Merchants only saw the massive untapped potential of this place and the piles of gold that they could make from here.
And it was somewhat of a cardinal rule that if there's big money to be made, then there would be merchants somewhere who will somehow find a way through... regardless of the risks.
Now, the method the merchants take to pass through completely depends on the kind of merchant they are...
If they are small-time merchants, the kind who aren't afraid of adventures, then they could take the path of maximum risk and maximum profits...
Where they completely rely on their luck to dodge the pirate ships. They hope and pray that their gods will help them and that the pirates will be on vacation or that they will all be drunk and asleep for the few hours that they need to pass the Stepstones.
And funnily enough, some of these pirates do get lucky and complete their voyages safe and sound. But most of them, who aren't so lucky... well, they get caught, their merchandise gets stolen, their women get taken, and then they themselves become someone's slaves for life... unless, of course, if they know someone who can buy them out for a hefty sum.
But on the other side of this are the big-time Merchants, the wealthy ones who have been in this game for a long time, who are too old and experienced to fall for short-term gains. These merchants like to go for the least amount of risk that they can take by hiring the toughest protectors that they can find in this part of the sea— The Braavosi Warships.
And while their profits may decrease substantially because of this... at least they can sleep soundly knowing that they have reduced the uncertainty factor from this situation as much as they could and that they could have small but stable profits for a long time... which is the most important thing for these big merchants.
The pirates too usually leave these kinds of big fleets alone as they also like to attack the easier, less protected smaller fleets where they could make quick profits... as it would be too much of a hassle for them to try and fight off a dozen Braavosi Warships at the same time.
After all, even if they somehow managed to win, they would still incur too many losses for it to be worth it.
But that doesn't mean that the pirates were afraid of these warships... Oh, no, no, no, thinking these pirates as scared cowards would be a wrong assumption.
Because the second these pirates felt that the risks justified the rewards, they would immediately launch their attack on the target, no matter who the protector was. And anyone who thought otherwise or underestimated them, thinking that the pirates would just run if they flew a Braavosi flag or that they would be fine if they just hired one or two warships... were either already sunk under the sea, or would soon reach there.
And at this very moment, someone was paying the price for making that very same mistake...
During their Biannual trip to protect the fleet of Merchant ships across this treacherous but immensely profitable stretch, the Master in Braavos decided to reduce their protection from twelve warships to just half of them.
Because due to some unforeseen circumstances (Norther Wolf Shipping,), the number of merchants patronising them had decreased by a third so they decided to similarly reduce their numbers so that they could decrease the cost of manning the warships and keep their profits the same... but this turned out to be a very fatal mistake.
Because, while fighting off twelve warships for a few dozen Merchant ships could be considered a massive loss... the same couldn't be said when there are only six warships, as then... then the risk decreases exponentially.
The merchants and their protectors had grown too complacent due to long years of safe and easy trips where the pirates let them go unharassed... they began to think that the pirates just wouldn't dare to attack ships protected by Braavos, even if the protection was a bit inadequate.
But they forgot that the pirates were an unpredictable bunch and that they could do anything and attack anyone once their greed overwhelmed them.. and at this very moment the Braavosi Warships were being reminded of that fact.
Six Braavosi Warships were surrounding big bulky merchant ships in their middle while trying to fend off the relentless attacks from a Pirate fleet commanded by one of the three Pirate Kings, The Ravager.
The fleet was on their way back after a fruitful trip to the other free cities of the Essos, their decks were filled with crates upon crates of high-value goods, and their chest were filled with coins, and they had almost begun counting their profits in their head... when they had been suddenly set upon by these pirate a few hours away from the Stepstones.
"Argh!"
"Kill Them!"
"Shoot the arrows!"
"Kill the Pirates!"
"Raise your shields higher! YOU CUNTS!"
And the naval attack that the warships were under wasn't a haphazard one that you would expect from Pirates, no, the battle that was happening here was a surprisingly intricate one.
Each of the six warships had been first separated from each other and then three pirate ships had attached themselves to each of them, constantly harassing them, peppering them with arrows, and overwhelming them with the sheer numbers of pirates coming abroad.
And if the Braavosi warships tried to use their prized scorpions to target the pirate's ships, then these wretches would immediately scatter away and dodge the massive bolts using the higher mobility of their lighter ships.
But even if a scorpion managed to get a lucky shot and hit one of the Pirate ships, they would just calmly call a retreat before the warships could sink them, and almost immediately another pirate ship from the reserve would take its place and the attack would start anew.
And in this way, the smaller, older, shoddier pirate ships with paper-thin, defences were slowly harassing, and whittling down the mighty warships of Braavos.
And the one behind this attack, the commander of this pirate fleet, the Ravager King, was watching the battle while sitting on his wooden throne on the deck of his galleon and calmly sipping expensive wine safe behind the reserve pirate ships.
/
