Welcome my friends to a journey that will be remembered for generations!
4th Moon, 9th After the Doom (93 Before the Conquest)
Ralf "the Walker" Salt POV
Ralf wanted to smack the salty wind and curse its whore mother while he was at it. He would have as well. However, he did not want to turn the temperamental gaze of the Storm God towards him for sacrilege against his daughter and wife.
No matter what the Drowned God would say for disrespecting one of his champion's consort. While yes, he loved the story of Njord of the Black Tide seducing the daughter of He Who Dwells Above the Clouds, that did not mean he likes having his hair damn near blown off!
Besides, they needed all the blessings they could get, in case another one of his cousin's devious schemes turned to seal shit. Which they usually did. At best, there had been a few broken Dornish ribs when a branch family Dayne got a little mouthy, and at worst…
…he did not ever again want to flee down the Milkwater from a clan of albino giants riding snow mammoths slinging boulders at them. There must never be a repeat of the infamous "Theen Expedition".
He raised and peered through my Myrish Eye at two fleets fast approaching from the south. The Longships of the Iron Islands were fleeing from the Dromonds and Galleys of the Kingdom of the Rock. At their heads were the royal flagships of Prince Harwyn Hoare and King Tommen the Second of his Name. TheHardhandbore his cousin's twin ravens, lowering a pointed steel crown on a crimson eye with a black pupil on a deep ocean blue field. While theAdventurerbore the King's golden lion running on an azure field.
The Lannister fleet of two dozen ships was swift on the tail of the lighter Hoare Fleet. Despite the wind blowing in the opposite direction working more against the lion than his prey. He spied the arms of every major naval House sworn to Casterly Rock among them, from Boars of Crakehall to the Hooded Man of Banefort.
It seems King Tommen wanted to share his glory with his vassals. Whether on his doomed expedition to Valyria or to his equally doomed expedition to the Drowned God's embrace.
The similarly numbered Hoare fleet had ships from every Noble House from Harlaw to the Lonely Light among them. They were mostly smaller Longships, 8 to 14 meters, clinkers, fastened with wood and filling the gaps with moss, and carrying two horses. They were designed for speedy raids, which far outpaced their pursuers.
The few notable exceptions must have had their rowers working twice as hard to keep up. Such as theOnyx Tsunamiof Erik "the Crimson Tide" Blacktyde, theLong Serpentof Lord Nagana Saltcliffe, and the flagships of other such commanders. While all impressive, paled in comparison to Harwyn's very own vessel.
TheHardhandwas a 200-foot-long, triple-masted, monstrosity crewed by a hundred and fifty reavers. With night black sails, its hull and decks are painted crimson to hide the blood that soaks them. Its figurehead is a buxom, shapely and nude mermaid made of green copper along with eyes of the mother of pearl and mounted with as many scorpions and trebuchets as a man could dream.
A gift made by Yi-Tish shipwrecks with Harwyn's design, from Grand Admiral Zhang He and the God-Emperor after they had helped put down those damned Lengii rebels. With his cousin taking inspiration from the Swan Ships of the Summer Isles and other eastern vessels.
It was caravel-built, with the planks being placed edge to edge, streamlining the boat and increasing its speed with the issue of erosion of the caulking used to seal the planks brilliantly being solved by using copper. At the cost of doubling the gold, the God-Emperor needed to pay for the ship to be built.
Though, compared to the regular prices most paid for Harwyn's madness, it was a mild one.
I lowered his Eye and looked upwards, around noon, right on schedule, "Tell the men to get in formation. The lion rushes to the shark's jaws.", he voiced the command loud and clear. He did not turn to see if his crew obeyed his orders with quiet cheer or silent resentment, but he hoped for the former.
He listened to the scrunching of their boots getting dimmer, staying still until he knew he was alone. He lowered his Far-Eye and breathed in heavily before slowly exhaling. He was being ridiculous. He knew these men, he had been raised amongst them, trained with them, feasted with them and fought with them against everything from Wildlings to Summer Islanders.
Now it was time to lead them.
He turned on his heel and headed down, clenching his fists till they hurt. His late Father had thought him worthy enough to leave his crew, his friends, to his son's care when he was gone. He had thought him worthy of taking on his mantle as Captain of theSalt Shaker, bane of every ship from the Jade to Sunset Seas. He would prove the Old Man right.
Even if his naming sense was shit. He would have been flattered if his father named his ship with his bastard in mind. The key word being would.
The ship had been named when his father burst into his room while he was five and playing Monsters and Maidens. Then his father picked him up. Then he started shaking him. Then he dropped him (gently on the pillows). Then yelling "Salt Shaker! That is it!". Then he left while his only son lay there confounded. Then Harwyn pointed at him and started to laugh.
By the way, the last ship was called the Naughty Squid. Now you must live with that information (the Lengii for some reason loved it).
He entered the only thing of worth on his barren rock, miles off the coast of Fair Isle. A deep, dank cove with a strange scent he could not place. In its shadows hid dozens of regular-sized Longships crewed by some of the finest reavers in the Iron Islands. Just like their sister fleet at sea, every noble house in the Iron Islands was present today. All not so patiently awaiting their Prince's signal to fuck some dusty Rockmen's arse.
When Prince Harwyn Hoare had proclaimed another Great Voyage to the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti, despite not even a year passing since the last one, it had excited newcomers for a chance of great wealth. However, the veterans who barely came home with their lives were skeptical of another Eastern Adventure.
Only when his cousin shared his newest scheme with the rest of the Captains, did they consent to bring their axes for some Lion Hunting or Eastern Fun as it was announced publicly.
He felt a pit form in his stomach as he walked toward his fath- no, his ship. The months after his father's death were him mostly secluding himself from the crew. After all, how could he look them in the eye after he had failed to save their Captain and brother-in-arms?
He knew they didn't blame him. They had said so after he finally went to speak to them. That did not mean they wanted to follow him. Why would they? Who would follow the commands of a boy over that of the legendary Golden Grin?
As he climbed the ramp up to his fath- no, his twice damned ship and stepped onto the deck, he heard a chuckle come from next to him, "Looks like everything's going to Wynny's plan as usual" spoke his fa- no, thrice dammit his First Mate, Galon of the Golden Grin "Finished brooding have ye, Ralfy? Should the realms be afraid of another KiKi lose upon them?".
"You must really want to lose those teeth Galon, isn't Floki hounding you every game night enough?", He turned to face his Father's oldest friend, leaning on the mast, his chainmail and polearm enabled in gold.
Galon who was of average height, brown and grey hair, and dark eyes with dazzling rows of golden teeth threw his head back and laugh along with those nearby, "Aye, one fish-eyed, teeth-hatin' fuck is enough. I'd swear he fixed the dice if I didn't bring them me self.".
"You forget to mention the part where you cheated Floki, with those very same dice in the first place. All the while grinning with those gaudy teeth of yours", an eyebrow was cocked as always. Presentation was half the battle as Harwyn would say.
"Details, Details… But it's good to see we haven't lost you to the grim side yet, boy." Galon swatted with his hand.
"I would not be so sure, old man. There are few sides I would not go to for the lovely Maiden or former Maiden of Greysheild.-" he gave an exaggerated shudder "-I was given more blessings in Elinor Grimm's bed than any in Old Salty Brow's Temple".
Galon's response was given a grin only a man could give another. It conveyed pride better than any words. While the Quartermaster, Big Belly Bryan, put his arm over his shoulder and wiped a fake tear from his eye "When did our little Ralfie grow up?".
"About the same time all of you started going grey.", Bryan ruffled his hair in response, while Galon huffed.
"Shits these days don't even have the decency not to look down on their elders, and don't give me that "Oh, I'm too tall" nonsense, Seven feet of disrespect is what you are, boy." The crew nodded emphatically.
"You forgot to add two inches.", the look in Galon's eye was like a shark that just caught the salmon.
"Is that what you said to the Drowned God in Lady Elinor's bed?", this time he threw his head back and laughed alongside the crew.
The stiffness left his body in a rush. It was like a mountain had been lifted off him, they were treating him no differently than before that Disaster in Jinqi. Like he was still just the same boy who toddled behind his father on this very deck. Given the self-satisfied looks being sent his way they knew it too.
He straightened up and marched to the helm, the rest understanding his wordless command went to their posts as well. When Galon stood next to him, he took his Myrish-Eye and looked towards the soon to be battle site.
He thought back on what his cousin had said in the War Chamber "King Tommen thinks of me a mere squidling caught in his golden nets-", Harwyn had looked over them with a lazy smirk-
Their sister fleet was slowing down and soon began splitting apart in two, the Rockmen no doubt thinking their quarry was tired and breaking increased their speed twofold. War horns blared and cheers rang out from the men on the decks. These puffed-up jewellers were in for a surprise.
-"-but my friends, it was not a mere squid that bore me but a Kraken. Our Golden Pursuer will be blind to the tentacles that grasp him-" his black eyes, deep like the sea floor, reflected the moonlight a malicious silver -
Only for their now split Fleet to turn on its heel and rush at their chasers and the wind that had previously been an obstacle had turned into an ally. That sudden burst of speed, the packed formation of the Greenlanders along with their momentary lapse in attention allowed them to be flanked.
-"-two of my tentacles shall turn them into these golden kittens to golden porcupines -" his finger tapped at the neck of the Golden Lion figurine on the map-
Arrows rain down on those on their decks, especially targeting the Highborn commanders standing near the helm to deplete the enemy of both their leadership and most competent warriors. One idiot with a Westerling surcoat tried to run only to be hit twice in the same arse cheek before an arrow through the neck put him out of his misery.
-"-two shall turn them into stranded golden porcupines.-" he moved his finger to the crimson ship next to the lion-
Scorpion bolts fired into the masts of ships, especially those ships whose wrecking would make maneuvering the fleet nigh impossible without crashing into one another. Stranding the ships that had been hit while simultaneously crushing those unlucky enough to get caught under the falling beams along with trapping those with a little more luck in their sails. He spied one with a little less luck considering the giant splinter jammed in his throat.
-"-Another two shall twist themselves around their furry throats-" he raised his arm and flexed his hand as if he were choking a neck-
The Longships then rammed into the sides of those that had gotten their masts completely destroyed and those that had not. He saw a galley get ripped in half and stop the escape of a pair of Banefort warships. With sailors jumping into the sea to avoid being crushed or stabbed by the broken wood. All the while making their already tight formation all the more suffocating especially for those in the center.
-"and finally two shall give these poor suffering creatures the Gift of Mercy-" he jerked his hand back as if he had ripped out his imaginary foe's throat.-
Slipping through the gaps left by the Rammers, were the Longships with Boarding Gangways dubbed the Crow by his cousin. Their spiked edges swivelled into position before falling down on those ships that were somewhat intact. Reavers soon fell upon them, and Ironborn steel forged in fires across the known world proved to be too much for the Rockmen. He spied one of the cavalry stabbing a chest through with his spear while his horse caved another's face in. No doubt by the end of the battle their decks will be as red as the Hardhand's.
"-and when I open my mouth to feast on the supple flesh of Lann's Line-" he took a bite into a spicy roasted chicken leg and a sip of his favourite Morqai Cider-
The Lannister ships in the center that had remained untouched but jammed were now haphazardly spilling out in the front. The back was blocked by unmoving broken ships, but the Dromonds such as that of Androw Farmen were blocking their escape. He saw their crew shouting at those fleeing, and from the looks of it were making groups each headed by its own Dromond.
The battle had not started great for the Rockmen but the tide was turning, the Ironborn were spread apart and were too few men besides, even after sinking all those ships the Lannisters still had more sailors. The battle could go two ways now, either the more battle hardened Ironborn would meet the forming units and crush them or their more numerous foe would flank the Ironborn while their front was to their fallen brethren. Either way, the victor will leave with heavy losses.
Then suddenly theHardhandbroke from formation and sailed straight towards theAdventurer.
-"-Brave Tommen will no doubt rush forward into the belly of the beast to pierce my black heart from the inside-" He placed his hand on said black heart-
The King took the bait, how could he not with the smell of glory so pungent? The Lannister Flagship leaving behind its fleet, charged forward to claim the head of the sea serpent. No doubt, in the hope that the body would then scatter. They were underestimating both Ironborn resolve and coordination, but it was a moot point now anyhow. The Hardhand turned and took off with the King of the Rock on its heel, intent on a merry chase.
While the Lannister Fleet left behind fell into disarray, some tried to rally to their King, while some believing their King had fled, tried to do the same. The commanders found it even harder to coordinate with their King's flight and kept ramming into their own or being rammed into by their own.
When they had gotten a good distance between themselves and the battle, TheAdventurercharged to attack. With a sharp turn, TheHardhandmoved out of theAdventurer's path and slammed into its side before the Rockmen could do the same. The Flagship's own Crow fell and the crew crossed over to the opposing ship, just as Scorpions and Arrows fell upon them.
He saw his cousin was the first to jump off the gangway and nearly cleave a man in half with his Valyrian Steel Greatsword. The fight was not as one-sided as the others, The personal guard of the Rock King were skilled he will grant them that, but still, they were outmatched and outnumbered.
He saw the golden armored King of the Rock descend upon his night, black armored cousin. The King was said to be one of the greatest swordsmen in the Golden Realm, no doubt his cousin was enjoying himself. He could almost hear the song of death sung by Gram and Brightroar. Just then an arrow with cloth burning with green flames was then released into the sky.
Fucking finally, his legs were beginning to cramp. He replaced his Myrish Eye with his War Horn, breathing a lung full of air, and blew into it, along with several others. The rowers upon hearing the horns quickly freed them from the shadows of the cove into the open sea. Heading straight at the Lannister's backside which was about so filled with something long and hard …their swords that is, or an axe in his case.
-"-but then my hidden arms shall reveal themselves and break him from behind.-" He spread his arms wide and his cape billowing in the night's wind, no doubt to his cousin's over-dramatic heart's delight.-
Just as their sister fleet had done before, first came the arrow, then the scorpions, then the ramming, and finally his own ship threw down its Crow. No matter what his crew may say he was the first to get off the Crow into the disoriented Rockmen fray and the first to get his edge bloodied when he cut some blonde fatty's skull open.
It was a complete encirclement. The Lannisters could do naught but pray for their Seven's mercy for he had none. His men rushed forward with a hunger for kitten flesh. After finishing off this ship they went for another and another and then another. Where he finally found someone of worth, the goodbrother and Chief Justiciar of King Tommen, Androw Farmen the Falcon of Fairisle
Who was currently stabbing his sword through some Merlyn man-at-arms's neck. His already grave expression hardened further when their eyes met. He ripped his sword out and charged towards him with a cry "Face Me, Walker!". It seems Harwyn was not the only one people liked to talk about. That was nice to hear.
The Falcon went for a decapitating slash, he sidestepped and went for an overhead strike, Androw sidestepped as well. The rude Lordling did not even have the decency not to copy his moves. The grin on his face widened, finally a halfway decent fighter.
Castle forged steel met each other in a flurry of rapid exchanges. He blocked or dodged everything his opponent had thrown at him at this point and Androw seemed to do the same to his own strikes. The fight may come down to a battle of attrition rather than the skill of the blade.
He stepped on his opponent's fine silk cloak, making him nearly and almost buried his axe in his chest. The older man used his own sword to cut the cloak off and then did a fancy riposte that slashed his head, making his mind rattle. He was going to make his noble arse pay for scratching his favourite helm!
He was mostly on the defensive for the rest of the fight, something he was not used to. This Rockman was quick on his feet and with his blade, but he was tiring. He just needs a single opening. He blocked a mighty thrust with his shield and to his and Androw's surprise the sword got stuck in it. Ralf was quicker to capitalize on that surprise.
The Lordling must have realised the futility of trying to dislodge his weapon and tried putting distance between them. He barely missed his throat getting sliced. Ralf quickly threw the shield and sword far behind him away from Androw and then with both hands made his axe fly right at his opponent's back and the Falcon barely managed to throw himself on the ground and miss the edge by a hair's length.
Ralf then ran towards him as tried to rise and tackled him down hard enough to have broken the man's spine. He pulled out his dirk and rammed it through his eye slit, arms, tried desperately to push him off, and started to jerk before falling limply to the sides.
He tore out his now bloody dirk as he quickly looked around, it seemed Farman was the last to die on this ship. He did not know how long he broke these greenlanders for, but by now his breathing had become ragged and his arms started to hurt.
Suddenly, he heard a great roar come from upfront. The sound of battle being replaced by cheers of "What is Dead may Never Die", "The Bold, The Proud, The Defiant!" and most of all repeating chants of "Hardhand!".
A reaver in the ship in front of him covered in blood spread his arms wide, an axe in each hand and a toothy grin bellowed "King Tommen has yielded!". It was over. The smart ones knew it too, for they started throwing weapons on the ground, the mediocre ones followed suit which left only the dim ones left to be finished off.
-"- and then my friends, this little boy from Great Wyk with big dreams shall dine with a King of the Rock.", he finished looking as joyous as a man about to spill his seed in a Lyseni bed warmer.
He both loved and dreaded seeing that face of his.
-Hardhand (Harwyn Hoare SI)
What in the name of the Drowned God's watery halls is he looking at?
After a few minutes of catching his breath and guzzling down a whole skin of water, he was about to join his friends in the center. That was before he heard loud crying coming from the cabin of the ship. It sounded like a child…a very young and frightened child.
He had run up the stairs to the cabin and kicked the door so hard it burst open. Admittedly running maniacally up the stairs and bursting into a room looking like a demon from one of the Seven Hells was not a very good idea. He could have at the very least left his axe behind, the same axe that was dripping blood on the floor very loudly.
There were still tears streaming down snow white cheeks from pale blue eyes, yet there was no sound. The flaxen haired boy's mouth was open in a silent scream. His clothing showed the red, blue, and yellow of House Farmen. He even had a little silver ship badge over his heart.
He threw his axe to the side which shut the boy's mouth with a loud clack. Right, small movements when dealing with scared younglings. He slowly lowered himself to his knees (the poor boy's neck looked ready to give up from staring up so long) and took off his helm. He smiled in a way that he hoped would bring the boy some comfort.
"Are you hurt?", the boy looked owlishly at him before shaking his head. That's good, so the crying was due to fear rather than injuries from their rammings.
"What is your name?", he did not ask the name of the stupid fuck who brought such a little boy to a battle. He would find him later and he would make him hurt.
"Gylbert. My mother calls me Bertie.", Surely not… The only Farman named Gylbert was Androw's three year old heir. A wave of guilt had hit him. He who still had not recovered from the death of his father, had given a child the same pain. The boy did not even know he was conversing with his father's killer.
"Gylbert, let us go somewhere else. I would like to show you my ship, especially my cabin", he sounded like a damn boy lover! Where did his fucking sense of phrasing go!?
Thank the gods, the boy nodded, instead of running in the opposite direction. Which ended at a wooden wall, where there was a window, through which was the sea. Things did need to get more complicated than they were, he really did not feel like having a swim.
"Let us get you wrapped in my cloak. You could fall as we jump from ship to ship.", no boy should see his father and kinsman's mangled corpses. Especially not so young.
"Call me Bertie.", he dipped his head in acknowledgement of the request, and then the now Lord of Fair Isle was wrapped in his cloak. He carried him in his arms like he was one of his cousins and ran out.
He turned to Galon who was resting on a barrel and yelled "Handle the rest for me, old man!" and rushed to his ship without paying heed to his first mate yelling at him to bring his arse back. He was careful not to cause the boy any discomfort. When they had reached their destined ship, he headed for his cabin. The boy jumped out as soon as he set his makeshift sack on the floor.
He emerged and shook himself off like a wet dog, even had the big eyes for it. As he directed the child to some food and water, he noticed that the boy did not seem too hungry or thirsty. So the bastard that brought him here, left him with adequate nourishment. He would take that into account when he found him. Not that it was going to help him much.
"When is Father coming back?", the one damn question he did not want to answer.
"Your father is dead. That is when someone goes away and never ever comes back.". Have some bloody tact, you giant fool! Seven and two inches of stupidity is what you are! He is praying to the Drowned God that he does not ask who made his father go away.
"Did the Stranger take him away for hitting Mother.", Siren's tits… what kind of three year old talked like that!? The world did not need another Gregor!
"Yes! Exactly that! You should only hit a woman if the bitch deserves it-" What in the name of the sweet Kraken's eggs is he saying!? "which your mother definitely did not. She is not a bitch, either. So uh… you want to play some games?"
I will spare you by not describing the next few hours of Come Into My Castle, Hide-the-treasure, Hopfrog, Monsters and Maidens, Rats and Cats, and nearly a Finger Dance. Until he remembered that may not be appropriate for his age. To distract him, he had done the thumb separation magic, which nearly made Bertie pass out. His cousin forbade his closest companions from being "muggles".
"Again! Again! Again!", the boy had a loony grin on his face as jumped from the table to his bookshelf to his bed to his wall, all in the span of a few seconds. He stopped only when a giant yawn escaped him and nearly tumbled to the floor had Ralf not caught him.
"Are you sure, little Lord? You seem quite drowsy.", from Harwyn's reports the Lannister had set off at daybreak and they had chased them for nearly an hour. Has the boy been awake since then?
Bertie pouted, yet headed over to the bed. He felt an eyebrow shot up, well three for three in surprises. From a covering rat in the cabin to a rambunctious squirrel to a now behaved cat.
"I want twinkle twinkle", the little grumpkin demanded what he assumed was one of his favourite lullabies. While in his sheets, picking off and eating the grapes from his bedside table.
Far be it for me to deny such an adorably imperious command. He lowered his head graciously and cleared his throat. The boy was in a show of a lifetime. His friends were just jealous, his mother always said he had a wonderful singing voice and she would never lie to him.
"Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star
How I wonder where you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Guiding our path…"
When he finished, he was satisfied with the reception, it may not be a standing ovation, but the little snores were rewarded enough. He had very delicately moved the boy so as to not have him wake up with an aching arm. The sheets also had been put back on him for the fifth time and kept kicking them off. The boy would freeze to death at this rate.
He had then quietly left to inform his crew of the situation. They were understanding as always and had moved theSalt Shakerinside the cove so that the noise of the celebrating Ironborn did not reach them. He did have to put a ton of expensive fragrance in his cabin so that the cove's stink did not wake Bertie up.
He heard the door being opened extremely gently and Floki's long face poked in. The man's perpetual scowl seemed less severe after their victory and he gestured with his eyes to come outside. He did so with one last look at the sleeping Bertie.
"Well Don't keep me in suspense, how fortunate are we?", he asked his friend. He had sent for Bryan to bring news of Bertie to Harwyn and the rest.
"The boy is indeed the heir or should I say now Lord of Fair Isle.", Floki's voice was dry and his speech was direct as always.
The Grim Reaper of Old Wyk's back was as straight as a pole. He stood at six and a half feet, unlike his stocky bear-like body, Floki was slender as a snake. Barring their similarly great heights, they had very little in common physically. His hair was black to Floki's red, eyes deep blue, to his poison green, and skin a healthy pale to him looking like his namesake ancestor's ghost.
They were distant kin through Harwyn, with Ralf's father, Urrigon "the Undying" Greyjoy being his maternal uncle and Floki's great aunt, Helga Drumm nee Hoare being his paternal grandmother.
"Before you ask, the reason the boy was here was because of his father's arrogance and Harwyn's impatience. Apparently, if the son of a reaver scum can row at five, then the son of a Lord of Fair Isle can row at three. It's almost funny how similarly Harwyn begged to row on your father's ship and how much the boy's mother begged for the child to remain with her. Androw even struck his precious Princess.", he could hear the distaste in his words.
His own thoughts were similar. He had heard that Princess Liela was struck by her husband in regards to their son's education. He also knew that the King, her younger brother, had favoured his childhood friend and foster brother over his own blood in the scandal. He chose not to ignore the fact that a mere five years separated him and the little boy in his cabin when it came to their first taste of battle.
How did these fools not realize that even if they defeated them, the boy would die on their foolish adventure in Valyria. They essentially took a son from her mother to throw him in his grave, be it via reaver Steel or Valyrian flame.
The charisma of King Tommen was truly the stuff of legend, how else could a man fool not only himself but alongside the vast majority of his kingdom? That he shall venture and return with vast and incomprehensible riches from the closest thing to the Seven Hells in the known world.
"I take it the plan was to make him fight in the Cinnamon Straits at eight as well? BAH! Stupid miners… Did everything else go according to plan?", Galon was right, most of the time everything went as Harwyn's wanted it to …Except when it did not.
"Yes. The greatly damaged ships are being left to be sunk, that combined with those that have sunk in the battle accounts for six of ours and a dozen for them. The King and the vast majority of his vassal's heirs and some Lords are under our thumb. There were very few highborn casualties, but many cripples were born today. I just completed putting the prisoners in their designated areas. We will be dining in Fair Castle by tomorrow, awaiting our Ironyeild for their release."
An Ironyeild, paid by greenlanders to Ironborn for what was essentially at best a bribe for leaving them alone and at worst loss of territory. Given the amount of hostages they had, it would be the biggest one paid in centuries, maybe even in a millennia! It would have been less if the giant turtles his cousin controlled had not stand ready to bring any potential hostages that had fallen overboard or gravely injured to their medics in the cove.
He swallowed the bile that rose up, had this been two years ago dolphins and leviathans would have aided them alongside ravens and turtles. Ever since his cousin stared too far down the abyss ("And the abyss stared!", Harwyn cried maniacally with tears streaming down his face) he has never since commanded a sea creature. He chose to ignore those foul memories and focus on how many hostages they have now, you can have enough.
"Where is our illustrious leader now?", normally he would have heard about Bertie by now and would have been here to tease him about being a "goody two-shoes". What did the lack or abundance of shoes have to do with good?
"Down like a drunk in his bed. He had kept his third eye on the rockmen for hours with his ravens and King Tommen was a beast with Brightroar. He was able to bring the last of the turtles to finish their task before he started to get diz- If you start feeling guilty, I will slap you to sleep like I did him! You have done enough with the Farman brat!" Ah, dearest Floki, you can not change one's emotions with base violence.
There was nothing wrong with a man pitying his overworked friends and feeling anger at his own inaction. Even if he would have chosen to help a boy cope with his father's death a thousand times over.
Now that it was mentioned… he was getting very sleepy and it had been a long time since they had a sleepover. With Bertie in his bed, the only place he could sleep was in Harwyn's cabin. He would keep Floki engaged in the festivities on their flagship, get drunk (just enough where he could manage the morning sickness and take care of Bertie), and by the time Floki hauls him to bed, he would be too tired to go back to his own cabin on theHela's Sytche. It's… INGENIOUS!
He looked back at Floki and clamped his mouth shut as soon as he opened it at his friend's deadpan stare being directed upon him. He had just blurted that out right? Floki nodded. Ah, he was still doing it, he must be more tired than he thought… What the hell? For old time's sake!
"Fine, I shall not feel guilty at not helping you two to clean up! Instead, I shall feel great pride at having saved a poor child from undue sadness! How great am I?! The one who chooses to do the good over the profitable and furthermore-" he continued the justified exalting of his virtues as he followed behind his rapidly retreating friend. Who was curiously heading for theHardhandrather than his own ship, it seems old Raflie is not the only one who wants to relive the good old days.
He felt better than he had in a long time, he felt a distinct lack of crippling shame and in its stead an overwhelming sense of pride at their victory. He felt all that and a great sense of victory and nostalgia.
-Hardhand (Harwyn Hoare SI)
I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review of what you did or did not like in the chapter. I dearly wish to improve.
I will update every 2 weeks and for those who can't wait I have 2 additional chapters on the site for patrons that must not be named. You can find the link at the end of this:https/forums./threads/hardhand-harwyn-hoare-si.1207412/