"Our fleet is charging straight into Oldtown?" Rodrik Harlaw asked in surprise. "But the enemy's main force is bearing down on us, and the Redwyne and Twin Cities fleets are right behind us..."
"And we've lost the Shield Islands," the Chog leader added.
"We have the fleet. Those rocky islands are ours for the taking. Once we crush the enemy, do you think we'll have to worry about lacking land?"
"That was nothing but a small setback. A dozen or so longships and some beaten men. Think of our victory!" Crow's Eye's lackey shouted. "We raided Oldtown's docks, and we can take Oldtown itself."
"The sea is our domain. If we're going to strike fast against slow, we should first destroy the Redwyne fleet in Whispering Sound, then ambush the sluggish Twin Cities fleet, and then leave," suggested Victarion Greyjoy, sturdy as a bull.
"You're not afraid, are you?" Euron Greyjoy laughed.
"I'm never afraid, but your plan is too dangerous. Back then... back on Fair Isle."
Victarion had never forgotten the shadow of Fair Isle, where the Ironborn had fallen into a trap.
Between Fair Isle and the mainland, the Redwyne fleet and the Royal fleet had closed in together, nearly wiping out the Iron Fleet.
Crow's Eye smiled, mockery gleaming in his eye. "Perhaps I expected too much of you. Facing the Stag and the Dragon is always a frightening thing."
"I would lead the Iron Fleet into hell itself, so long as I could taste the sweetness of victory," Victarion roared.
"I have my ways," Crow's Eye said. "I can guarantee the fall of the Redwyne fleet, and I can guarantee that we'll break our enemies one by one. Once we crush Gendry, the greatest force in the realm right now, and seize the Dragon and Shyvana, Westeros will be ours for the taking."
Crow's Eye raised his voice. "Crush the wild stag, just as House Hoare defeated the Storm King in days past. I promise you, once we take Oldtown, we'll taste the finest bite of all."
"King's Landing is too far away. A decisive battle at Oldtown is just right," shouted "Limp" Ralf. "We want Oldtown."
"We're hunting dragons. We don't just want Oldtown, Highgarden, Arbor, and the golden dragons of the Mander. We want a real Dragon."
Alvyn Sharp agreed. "The Mander is right before us. Once we crush the brat on the Iron Throne, the whole world will be ours."
Red Laffer Stonehouse sprang to his feet. "Oldtown has more gold than it knows what to do with, and Arbor is richer still. Once we crush the Redwyne fleet and the Iron Throne's fleet, the ripest fruit in Westeros will be within reach."
"You want to use yourself as bait?" Victarion's eyes widened.
"Why not?" Crow's Eye drained a cup of wine. "We'll use each other as bait and seize the crown."
"You're mad. Truly mad." Rodrik felt his scalp prickle.
"The Master Orator," Dunstan Thogmor, remained silent. None of them dared openly oppose Crow's Eye.
Crow's Eye had led the Ironborn to victory over the Shield Islands and Oldtown's docks, while Balon had won nothing but the mud of The North.
Balon had been mad, but Crow's Eye was madder still, and far more capable.
Balon had only dared bully the second-poorest region, The North, with Dorne being the poorest, while Crow's Eye had directly provoked the richest and most fertile region of all, The Reach.
From a purely tactical view, a decapitation strike was indeed direct and decisive.
The Iron Islands' overall strength had never matched that of the Green lands. Crow's Eye's confidence had truly reached the point of madness.
Victarion said nothing. Since the surprise attack on the Shield Islands and the burning of Oldtown's docks had already offended the Iron Throne, they might as well fight to the end.
"We are Ironborn by birth. We are the ancient overlords. Once, our commands went unchallenged wherever the sound of waves could reach." Crow's Eye's gaze swept over them all, as if it held some kind of Magic.
"My brother led you deep into the swamps of The North, but I will lead you to devour the Green lands, beginning with Oldtown. Next will be Arbor, Highgarden, Lannisport, Storm's End, and King's Landing; the Riverlands and The Reach; the Kingswood and the Rainwood; the Dornish Marches and The Reach; the Mountains of the Moon and the Vale of Arryn; Tarth and the Stepstones.
I promise we will rule the world! I promise we will take all of Westeros. Without a doubt, all for the supreme glory of our Drowned God."
The captains hammered their cups and stamped their feet. "Euron!" they shouted. "Euron! Euron! Euron!" It was like the Kingsmoot all over again.
Rodrik thought they had all gone mad, chasing the return of the ancient Ironborn's glory.
Victarion, too, was swept up in the frenzy, almost drunk on it. "Glory, pride, victory."
"Do you have the courage now to face Gendry and Randyll with their Valyrian steel swords?" Crow's Eye asked his brother.
"Let them come. I'll take their swords for myself, just as Thogmor's ancestors took Red Rain." Victarion's hunger was awakened as well.
Victarion would have traded half his teeth for the chance to cross blades with "Dragonlord Storm" Gendry and Randyll Tarly.
He had once longed to face the Kingslayer and the Knight of Flowers, but now both of them seemed rather shabby beside Gendry.
This was the kind of battle he knew well. Kinslayers were reviled by gods and men, but warriors were feared.
"Now, prepare for the hunt, for the supreme glory of the Drowned God," Crow's Eye commanded.
"You few are also my prey." Crow's Eye's gaze swept over Dunstan Thogmor, Rodrik Harlaw, Gorold Gubler, and Victarion Greyjoy.
This war was Crow's Eye's hunt for the stag. At the same time, he meant to remove these four opponents.
Victarion would die when the dragon horn was sounded. The other three lords would die without anyone knowing why.
"Set sail."
"Set sail."
Dozens upon dozens of longships were being dragged out from the docks beneath the Castle, while several times that number lay moored along the beach.
The ships of the Iron Fleet were larger and anchored in deeper waters. Victarion reached the Iron Fleet by small boat.
As the Ironborn departed, the Castle began to burn, flames leaping from its open windows.
Beyond the fleet, a merchant convoy lay anchored on the calm, emerald waters: cargo ships, tall ships, fishing boats, and one enormous freighter.
As the Ironborn sailed away, these plundered vessels moved along at the very rear.
Familiar banners rose from the masts and snapped in the wind: the Greyjoys' Kraken, House Wynch's blood moon, House Gubler's war horn, House Harlaw's silver sickle on black, and more besides.
But at their sterns flew a banner no one had seen before: two crows holding up a black iron crown, with a single red eye beneath it, its pupil black.
"Crow's Eye" Euron stood on the deck of the Silence, took off the Driftwood Crown, and replaced it with an iron crown set with shark teeth.
Crow's Eye wore a suit of black scale armor no one had ever seen before. Valyrian scale armor. Even before the Doom of Valyria, such a thing would have been worth a kingdom.
Crow's Eye's evil company dragged the priests he had captured up from belowdecks. Crow's Eye's company was made up of half-breeds, mutes, bastards, and the most wicked of the Ironborn.
"In the dark, have your gods been good to you?" "Left Hand" Lucas Cawd asked the priests again on the deck.
One of the warlocks snarled back at him in an ugly Eastern tongue.
"I curse every one of you," Aeron said.
"Your curses are worth shit, priest," said "Left Hand."
"Crow's Eye has fed your Drowned God well. With so many sacrifices, he must be fat by now. Words are wind. Blood is power. We have offered tens of thousands to the sea, and he has given us victory in return."
"Blasphemer. Blasphemer," Aeron cursed.
"Your Grace," said "Browntooth" Torwold, "I've brought all the priests. What would you have done with them?"
"My brother." Crow's Eye looked at Aeron. "You could have died long ago, but I kept you alive until now. You are a sacred body now, with sacred blood, so lend your strength to my cause."
"The Drowned God will save me and set me free."
Crow's Eye slapped Aeron across the face. Blood ran from the priest's mouth. Crow's Eye touched a finger to it and smeared the blood across his brother's face.
"Look, little brother. I have humiliated you, and where is your god?"
"All gods are lies, and yours is laughable. A pale thing shaped like a man, with swollen limbs, his hair drifting in the water, schools of fish gnawing at his face. What sort of fool would worship a god like that?"
Aeron felt the blinding sunlight on him. Crow's Eye was a kinslayer, a blasphemer, a devil and villain through and through.
Crow's Eye looked toward the distant Hightower. "What is there to fear from gods? I am the true god."
"Tie them to the bows," Crow's Eye ordered. "Bind my brother to the Silence. Choose one for yourself, and let them cast dice for the rest. One for every ship. Let them feel the spray at the prow. That is the Drowned God's kiss, wet and salty."
The mute sailors obeyed. They did not drag Aeron below. They bound him to the bow of the Silence, right beside the figurehead.
Aeron was tied with leather straps that would shrink tighter once they were wet. Aside from his beard, he wore nothing but a loincloth.
The Silence raised her black sails, the mooring ropes were loosed, and she pulled away from the shore to the slow beat of the oarmaster's drum. The oars rose, fell, and rose again, churning the water.
"I mean to eat the richest meal of all, so I have prepared the most sacrifices," Crow's Eye said after they put to sea. For this day, he had used a great many priests of many gods as offerings.
The ships sailed out onto the sea, and the wind slowly began to cheer.
A faint black mist suddenly appeared over the water, damp and salty, as if it had come from nowhere.
Aeron felt his heart seize. He even saw dark shadows stretching beneath the ship, black tentacles lined with suckers, unfurling like flowers in bloom.
"Kraken."
"We are the true Kraken."
"Little brother." Crow's Eye looked at him. "You look lonely. I have a gift for you."
Crow's Eye gave a signal, and two of his evil bastards dragged a woman over and tied her to the other side of the figurehead.
The woman was naked, just like the mouthless maiden carved on the prow. Her smooth belly had only just begun to swell with pregnancy, and tears streaked her flushed cheeks. She did not struggle at all as the boys bound her.
Her hair hung down, hiding her face, but Aeron still knew who she was. That self-important child.
Crow's Eye would never love anyone, you foolish girl.
"Falia Flowers," Aeron called. "Be brave, girl! It will be over soon. We will share a feast together in the Water Palace of the Drowned God."
Falia Flowers looked up at Aeron, but she could not speak. Her tongue had already been cut out.
The wind grew sharper, lending strength to the waters. The west wind drove the fleet swiftly toward Oldtown.
With the drumbeats rolling and the wind behind them, the Ironborn ships moved fast.
The castles on both sides of Whispering Sound had long since been terrified into submission by the Ironborn. Some lords had even fled to Highgarden, and no one tried to stop them.
The ships headed toward Highgarden, a city with few ships of its own.
"I am going to summon my servants. I need gifts." Crow's Eye looked at Aeron, then at the bastard girl.
Crow's Eye saw the towering Hightower. Green flames had been lit upon it. It was time for his performance.
"Your war is evil, blasphemer. Kinslayers will face the wrath of the gods." Aeron's lips were cracked from thirst, and a foul stink clung to him. The sea mist and sunlight on his body were unbearable.
"Who were you planning to rely on?" Crow's Eye looked at his brother. "Your Drowned men? That bull fool Victarion? Or Balon's foolish son and daughter?"
Crow's Eye took a deep drink of Shade of the Evening, making him seem utterly uncanny. His lips and eyes were deep blue.
"Victarion. Asha. They were all wrong. They should have joined together."
"They should have, but they didn't." Crow's Eye laughed. "Victarion is about to die. As for Balon's two little whelps, they are my kin. Their blood will make an even better sacrifice."
"Devil. Devil," Aeron cursed, though he had little strength left.
"Farewell, my dear brother. May you meet Balon and the others again." Crow's Eye laughed, then drew a Valyrian steel dagger and cut out Aeron's tongue with one stroke.
Aeron felt a vast agony. The cold, sharp blade kissed his tongue. Blood and pain, torment and suffering.
Then came Aeron's wrists, his chest, his upper arms, his thighs, his calves.
Blood began to drip onto the deck, one drop at a time, then more and more.
"In a little while, you'll be going to the sea."
The surface of the sea bubbled and gurgled, as if calling to something. Was it a creature from the deep, or a demon hidden beneath the earth?
***
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
[email protected]/PinkSnake (50 Chapters Ahead).
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.
***