Chapter XXI: Storming and Marching

A realm does not stand idle in absence of its king. A war is still waged even if a high commander is elsewhere. And so it was, that while King Baelor sowed death beyond the sea, in the Dornish Marches, blood was still shed. Once again enemies, the people on both sides of the Red Mountains had returned to their customs – raiding each other, driving cattle and sheep and killing anyone that stood in their way.

But these were no simple raids. His Grace had proclaimed war to the death against the Dornish, and commanded his loyal men to bear the red banner, which is the sign of death. There would not be mercy to be granted, save at the hand of the king himself. There would be no prisoners to be taken and ransomed, save those that the king wished to spare. And thus Reacher and Stormlander raided the Dornish, talking goods and lives with impunity.

But the Dornish proved themselves no lesser. Knowing that doom would soon approach them, they crossed the border and attacked with the self-same ferocity as their ancient enemies. The Wyl of Wyl, facing the unrelenting wrath and hatred of the house Targaryen, and the displeasure of his own prince, and knowing that the day of reckoning was near, had forsaken whatever oaths he still kept and proclaimed himself Vulture King, intent on being a greater malefactor than the first who bore that accursed name.

In Nightsong, the castle of the Lords Caron, a great gathering of nobility was held. Long claiming the title of Lord of the Marches, the Caron were now blessed by fortune, for the king had named their Lord as Warden of the Storm March for the duration of the war.

Yet the proud marcher lords, who had long rejected the dominion of Caron over them, had taken time to appease. But appeased they were at last – Dondaririon and Selmy, Swann and lesser ones like Elotte and Stormstone, Ridderk and Syward. And in that castle, they put their sign and seal upon a paper, binding their words on a parchment that said thus:

We undersigned, inhabitants of the Storm March of this kingdom of the Stormlands, understanding how it has pleased His Grace, our sovereign and our Lord Paramount to make and constitute Lord Royce Caron of Nightsong Warden and justice over all the march,

Acknowledging how we are in duty bound to service by our counsel and forces, to be employed in assistance of said warden in all things tending to the good rule and quietness of said March.,

Therefore we are bound and obliged, that we should serve the King and our liege, and obey and assist the said warden, and shall concur with others in giving of our advice and counsel, or with our forces in pursuit or defence of the said thieves, traitors, rebels, and other malefactors disobedient, or disturbers of the public peace.

If we shall be found remiss or negligent, we are content to be repute held and esteemed as favourers and partakers with the said thieves, traitors, rebels and malefactors in their treasonable and wicked deeds, and to be called, pursued, and punished therefore, according to these laws in example of others.

Lord Royce Caron, the old and grizzled warrior, had led once another host against another Vulture King, some year past. But now it was not so simple a matter. As Warden, it was laid in his hands to defend the Marches, but also to deliver justice.

And many cases came before him, traitors all. Opportunist Stormlanders communing with Dornishmen to bring depredation upon their own neighbours. Half-Dornish peasants harbouring reivers they called kin. Green boys so foolish as to wed Dornish maidens in time of war. Men without scruples warning the bandits of the Marcher lords' exploits, for a few coins. Greedier men, who sold bread or corn, or iron, or weapons to Dornishmen. Men who received in their homes pilgrims from Dorne – who the king had ordered to be turned away.

He had not the time to sit in long judgement over them, and by the words of trusted men, they were found guilty, pronounced traitors and felons, and swiftly hanged – a show of kindness, for he could have very well had them hanged first and sat in judgement after. They were to examples, a testimony that there will not be peace with Dorne until it was ground into dust. The King had proclaimed, far and wide, that the Dornish had spat on the banner of parley, after swearing on the Seven to obey the truce. They were now to be found oath-breakers, rebels and traitors, cunning serpents plotting against the peace and common good of the realm. They were to be denied ransom when taken prisoner, and no man should offer them bread and salt, or share his meal and hearth-fire with them.

One of the Most Devout had come and pronounced a great curse upon the Dornish. He cursed them in rest or labour, in food and drink, at home and outside. He cursed their wives, their children. He beseeched the gods to bring ill upon their crops, their cattle, their sheep, their horses, and all their livestock – which Caron would have quite liked to protest – he wished their livestock healthy, but inside his own stables. The septon then wished ills upon their halls and castles, palaces and towns. He called forth all the malevolent wishes and curses he knew, committed them to fire and sword.

He then parted them from the Holy Faith, delivered them to the Seven Hells. Barred them entrance to any divine service or holy rites, forbid the absolution of their sins – until they were humbled and their rebellion crushed.

He forbad all faithful and pious men and women to have any company with them – eating or drinking, speaking or praying, or in any other deed – under pain of deadly sin.

He discharged all bonds, acts, contract, oaths made to the Dornish by any persons, in sight of the Seven – than no man should be bound to them.

At last, the Most Devout proclaimed that when their candles shall be snuffed by the Strangers, their souls shall be turned from the face of the One, and they shall make satisfaction and penance in deepest pit of hell.

When Royce Caron did not spend his days in court, he gathered men and fought Dornish. Either he fought the Dornish reivers off, come to burn and plunder villages of the Stormlands, or he led himself forays in Dorne, doing the same to their lot.

When it was the first, he hunted Dornish with horse and sleuthhounds, with great speed, caught them and hanged them.

When it was the second, he burned villages and drove cattle and ship, riding on small hackneys, hiding during the days in glens, and sallying forth at night. It was to be their last hurrah, and the Marchers partaked in it with great appetite. Soon, Dorne would be humbled, and the very lands they raided would fall in the hands of second sons of Marchers and a way of life that survived centuries would end.