(Cregan’s POV)
I took in the sight of more than a hundred men on their knees. These were the pirates who had surrendered to his forces, whether after the pursuit of the three galleys or those left behind in the port. Some aboard the galleys had chosen to fight, but a few well-placed arrows and bolts had persuaded the majority to yield. Those left in the port had hoped to flee to Vaegon’s other harbour, only to fall into the hands of Bronn, Daemon, and their men. The sight of such numbers, coupled with a snarling Ymir, had compelled them all to surrender without further bloodshed among his forces.
It had taken longer than I’d have liked to get the galleys back to port, as by the time they yielded all had lost their main sail. The upside of that was that by the time they reached the port, the group were as tired as most of my men were after all that hard rowing. That wasn’t to say any man on either side was unable to fight, just that anyone who’d manned the oars wasn’t in perfect condition for battle when the combined fleet reached the port.
Any remaining fight the pirates might’ve had was destroyed when they saw Daemon and those men standing around the docks, the handful of pirates left behind already secured and kneeling on the beach. The rest had joined them soon after, which was why I was here now with about half my men. The rest were with Daemon and Jaeronos searching the port for supplies, treasure, and slaves that needed freeing.
Shifting my gaze, I looked down at the man who had led the pirates before my capture of the port. This was the port’s captain and the man who’d commanded the lead galley. Rather impressively, he had determined my intent with the gulls and burning tar-covered rope after my first attempt failed and by the time I returned with another gull – the other two galleys having their mail sails ablaze, I’d had to slip from the mind of the gull before it crashed to the deck.
Experiencing an arrow slice through my wing was far from comfortable, and even now I felt phantom pains in the corresponding arm. A fifth gull had been used, and while the main sail hadn’t caught ablaze, the kamikaze attack I’d made the gull do had taken out the sail.
“I must say, I am impressed by your ingenuity,” I remarked to the former commander of the port as I strode before him. One hand rested on the hilt of Red Rain, the other at my waist. Kaa was coiled around that arm, his head nestled on my shoulder, adding a hiss to my words. “Knowing what I planned and preparing a counter is precisely the sort of thinking I need among my men.”
The commander spat at my feet, eliciting a loud growl from Ymir. I withdrew my hand from the blade’s hilt to calm the direwolf as the kneeling, beaten pirate glared up at me with seething rage. “I will never serve a gods-damned warlock!”
Behind him, both from the prisoners and some of my men, murmurs could be heard. That was something I’d have to keep an eye on as while it was common knowledge now that I could ignite Red Rain, many might have issues with following someone they thought was a demon worshipper. Especially if religion was important to any of them. That was, admittedly, unlikely given their occupation, but it paid to distrust everyone around you when they fought for you because of coin, fear, or a combination of both.
Still, of those already under my command, there were whispers that I was either the chosen of R’hllor – simply because I could ignite Red Rain – or that, because of Ymir, the Old Gods sent me to punish the false believers. Neither of which was true, but it was something I could use as men such as those before me often followed another out of fear as much as the promise of coin. I’d also have to remain wary for when word of my actions in the Stepstones reached corridors of power in Westeros and Essos, as the wrong rumour to the wrong person could see me facing a threat I was currently ill-equipped to handle.
I leaned down, giving the commander a wide smile. “Are my lips and teeth stained blue like those from Qarth?” I asked with a chuckle. It was impressive that he had deduced that I had used magic, but not enough to automatically guarantee his survival. “No, they are not.”
The commander shook his arms as if trying to slip his bindings. “Fuck where you came from, demon, not serving you.”
I stood fully and sighed, shrugging my shoulders. “I cannot say that I am not disappointed. Not least because I now find myself in a bind. I cannot release you to run to Vaegon, nor can I permit anyone in this port to remain loyal to the Firetouched.” My hand returned to the hilt of my blade even as Kaa shifted, climbing up my arm. “Given how your men speak of you, it is a pity you will not accept a position in my company. Still, I respect a man with conviction, and the courage to maintain it in the face of death.” I stepped back, putting some distance between myself and the former commander of the port. “Might I ask if you worship any gods?”
The commander’s head lifted, and his eyes met mine, searching for something in my gaze. The change in tack had been sudden, but that had been my intention as was the slightly flamboyant approach I was making as I stood before the commander and those who’d formerly served him.
These men expected I was but another pirate, one who they could betray if the chance came to do so. That made me reluctant to take any into my service, but I needed the manpower to either take or failing that, raze this island. If those before me died during the battles for Redwater then none would mourn their passing, but I needed to make it clear the punishments for not bending the knee; be that from one such as the commander showing backbone, or those who’d think to betray me and break their word.
Once more, I sighed loudly when the commander failed to answer. “I would think that was an easy question,” I said, my hand easing Red Rain from its sheath. “Do you worship any gods?”
“None,” the commander responded, his sight shifting from me to the distinctive red Valyrian blade I was preparing.
“That is unfortunate for you,” I said as I moved to his side, both hands now gripping the blade. “Still, whichever gods greet your soul, I hope they grant you everything you deserve for the choices that have led you to this point.” Red Rain ascended swiftly, the blade rising into the sky before cleaving the air as it fell, my second hand firmly resting on the pommel to guide the strike.
The blade sliced cleanly through the commander’s neck, and his head and body crashed to the ground, soaking the sand with his blood. “Let me be clear,” I said, turning to the other pirates, blood dripping from the edge of my blade. “Piracy is something I will not accept. Pillaging, raping, and other such behaviour deserves only death. That said, I respect a man who will stand by his convictions. Your former commander upheld his and chose not to swear himself to me. For that, I grant him the mercy of a clean death.”
“Death is what awaits any who will not serve.” I used my blade to point at Ymir, who rather luckily had seen the commander’s head roll toward him and stopped it with one of his massive paws. “However, after you sign my charter and give me your fealty, you will live. However, know that if you then break that oath to me, your death shall be far less civil.” Ymir growled, exposing teeth as long as my fingers. “The choice of a clean death or service to me is now yours to decide. Be quick about it as if your mark has not joined the charter, and your words not given to me, by the time the sun sets, then your fate is sealed.”
I turned, taking a cloth that Trystane brought to me. As I used that to clean my blade, I nodded at Bronn. “You heard him,” he began, stepping forward and taking my place before the captured pirates, the book that contained the charter of those in my service in his hand. “Sign your mark or become fucking direwolf food.” To help drive home the point, Ymir moved to Bronn’s side. He would stay there for a while before venturing out to explore the woods to the east. It was unlikely any pirates had slipped away through them, but if they had the direwolf would enjoy his hunt.
While the men following me weren’t a sellsword company, I’d decided to adopt the idea of a charter book after Oberyn had mentioned them the last time I was in Sunspear. The rules I’d laid forth covered the first few pages, and they were to be read – or read to those unable to understand Common – and then on the rest of the pages, the name of the person and a mark made by their hand was added. That was their contract to serve me, and so far none had broken their vow, though I knew that wouldn’t last forever. When that day came, I already had ideas for how to remind the others of what breaking the vows they gave me meant. Some might well consider those ideas harsh, if not downright cruel, but until the Stepstones were taken I wasn’t willing to be anything but deadly to those unable to keep their word.
Trying to stave off that moment was why I’d been a touch dramatic with these pirates as by the time I left Redwater, I suspected that at least eight of every ten of the men under my banner would be former pirates. The only way to retain control of such individuals, or even the sellswords that had joined for coin, was through a mix of good pay and fear. Specifically fear of me being greater than fear of whomever I was fighting.
As I moved away from the docks, I caught sight of Daemon approaching, and behind him, the crude wall that encircled the port. That would need repairing and strengthening, but such actions would only take place after Vaegon was defeated and the northern port was under my control as well. And for attacking there, I was already on the clock.
While waiting to assault the port from the forest, Daemon’s men had intercepted four pirates acting as runners between the two ports. Those men had been persuaded to reveal that runners travelled between the two places once a day. When those men, who were bound on the beach with the others, failed to return by the end of the day tomorrow, Vaegon would know something was amiss.
Since Vaegon was likely not a fool, he’d not march some or most of his men toward this port to see what had happened. Instead, he’d likely send a smaller force – at a guess around ten men – to scout the port. My men were already deployed into the forest, with Ymir soon to join them, to watch and intercept any scouts.
Regardless of if those scouts came forth and some made it back, or if Vaegon didn’t send men out, I felt he had three real choices to make. Either he bunkered down in the northern port and prepared for an assault, he sallied forth with all his men to attack, or he’d abandon the northern port entirely.
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I discounted the last choice as the logic behind it wouldn’t fit with the small snippets of intelligence I had on Vaegon. And sallying forth would leave the port weak to an attack by sea. Vaegon would, I hoped, believe that it had been Rakakz that had taken the port I now controlled, so he would be wary of a strike from Redwater Bay, or perhaps even one overland from Rakakz’s holdings toward the middle of the island.
That meant the odds were that he’d bunker down and wait, which was fine with me. With Rian and the gulls available to provide aerial recon of the port, I’d know what forces were gathered there, and know how best to divide my forces to assault the port. Vaegon was living on borrowed time, he just didn’t know it yet, and I wanted to make sure that Rakakz and Allerion remained unaware of that fact as well; at least until I’d taken some of their ports.
“How goes the search?” I asked Daemon once we were close enough, pushing thoughts on the coming battle to one side and focusing on the need to secure my new port.
Daemon sighed lightly, an unsettling sign, and gestured toward the building that stood centrally in the port. This had been the former commander’s residence and had been repurposed as the command centre during the transfer of ownership. “We have cleared about half the buildings,” Daemon reported as we made our way toward the structure, “and so far the haul is solid. All the coin is being moved to the warehouse, and it appears we have anywhere from half a moon to a moon’s worth of food and drink. At least, if we limit the revelry.”
“Not bad,” I remarked. I’d not been sure what we’d gain from this port, and Redwater in general, as while it was a larger location, there was less traffic past the islands. The discovery of food was a useful thing though as it would supplement what we’d brought aboard the Pride.
“Yes. However, as expected there were slaves within the settlement and well,” He paused as we reached the door to the building. “I do not know how long they have been here, but it is clear their minds are gone. Hells,” he continued as he pushed the door open, “most seem to not realise the port has fallen to us.”
I pushed aside a need to correct him – the port had fallen to me – and stepped into the room. It wasn’t as well decorated as the solar in Northpoint; not even before I’d had that cleaned when I had returned from Sunspear after celebrating my taking of the island. The table was decent, as were the chairs, and light came in through windows in the stone that had their wooden covers open. However, my focus wasn’t on the new office, but on the trio who stood in the centre of the room.
The trio wore little more than rags around their waists. The rest of them, regardless of gender, were exposed. All three had bruising on their bodies; from either beatings or being fucked.
“Master,” the middle of the trio – the older of the two men – said as they saw my shadow. A moment later, all three were on their knees, their heads lowered to the ground.
A growl, one Ymir would’ve been proud of, slipped from my lips. It died as the trio dropped lower and the girl started to shake. I turned to Dameon, curious if he knew anything about the behaviour. His only reaction was to shrug.
Turning back, I ground my teeth, trying to settle my anger. Kaa shifted around on my shoulders, sensing my rage. I lifted a hand, gently caressing him under his jaw to ease his concern. I used that action, and turned my gaze away from the slaves, to calm myself.
When I looked back at the kowtowing trio, I sighed loudly. “Bloody hell.” They hadn’t moved, nor did they shift as I approached. The girl, however, tensed once I was right in front of them. Pushing aside another surge of rage, I knelt and placed my hands, palms up, where they could see them. “Stand. Please.” My words were as soft as I could make them in the situation, though none of them moved. “Stand,” I said again, this time with more force.
The trio lifted their heads, but when they saw I was kneeling before them, they stayed on the ground. Understanding that they’d not go further while I was kneeling, I rose and gestured for them to do so as well. The trio did, letting me see them up close.
The bruises and marks I’d seen when I’d first entered the room were but the tip of the iceberg. Few places upon their bodies didn’t have some form of discolouration. That, however, might just be a feature of them not being fed well instead of being abused constantly. Age was impossible to determine, and their hair was in desperate need of cleaning, or more likely, removal as all of it looked matted with dirt worn into it. When my gaze met that of the girls, she tensed again, and I knew she wanted to look away; fearful of what I might do.
“Do you understand me?” I asked slowly. One of the trio nodded, though the other two only nodded after seeing the younger man do so. That was about what I’d expected as while those on Dustspear and in The Whores had mostly spoken Common or some form of Trade Talk, Redwater was about halfway to Essos, it made sense if most spoke some form of bastardised Valyrian. “What about now?” I asked, changing to Valyrian. “Do you understand me?”
All three nodded, which solved the issue of having to explain everything twice in two tongues. “Yes, Master,” the older man added.
“I…” I sighed again and ran a hand down my face. “I am not your master. You are…” I paused, wondering if a speech to them about being free would sink in. “I need you to go with this man,” I pointed at Daemon, and he took a step forward. “He will not hurt you. You have my word. What I ask is that you help him gather all those like you. All those forced to serve the pirates. Once that is done, bring them to this building so that I might speak to all.”
“Yes, Master,” the older man replied, and I ground my teeth to avoid letting my anger escape. It was clear he didn’t understand, and blaming him for doing what he’d done for moons, if not years, was wrong.
I turned to Daemon, seeing discomfort mixed with rage in his eyes that no doubt echoed my expression. “If you would.”
He nodded and moved back, placing a hand on the door’s handle. “Please, follow me.”
The two men did so, shifting wide around me as if scared I might strike them for amusement. The girl, however, didn’t move and when I turned back she had fallen to her knees, her hands rising toward my groin. “NO!” I snapped, grasping her wrists. She recoiled in fright at my action, while the two men fell to their knees. “Those…” I bit back the curse that was forming on my tongue. The rage I needed to expel shouldn’t, and wouldn’t, be directed at the slaves.
“Please,” I said gently using my hand to pull the girl upward, “Stand.” Once she was up, I used a hand to lift her head so I could look into her eyes. She didn’t resist my actions, indicating any fight had been beaten out of her, and the gaze that met mine was vacant. As if her mind had retreated inward in an attempt to survive what she’d endured. “You do not have to do that,” I said slowly in Valyrian. “Not ever again if you do not want to. You are free.”
Something shifted in her eyes, perhaps my words were getting through to whatever remained of her that she’d buried deep inside. Understanding what I was seeing, I nodded and removed my hands from her wrists. “You. Are. Free.” I repeated the words even slower, focusing on each one in turn. It was unlikely that she truly understood or believed me, but the smallest glimmer of hope was enough to ease much of the maelstrom that was raging inside me. “Go on,” I added, shifting to not block her way and indicating the door.
She stayed still for a moment, though I did note that the two men had risen because Daemon had eased them to their feet, before walking. Her eyes flickered to me as if expecting this all to be a trick, though once she was away from me and near the other two, her pace quickened fractionally.
Daemon led them out of the room, giving me a final look of shared concern before the door closed.
I grasped the table, and Kaa, understanding my mood, slithered down my arm, settling on the desk. Once he was there, my hands moved, and the nearest chair exploded against a wall. “Damn them all!” I snarled, keeping my voice down lest I scare the slaves outside. Or at least scare them more than the sound of the chair shattering would’ve.
I stood there, rage boiling off me, flames rising from my palms. The urge to head outside and butcher every pirate that had surrendered was strong, but I knew I couldn’t. I needed the bodies for the battles to come. However, because of this, those men would be the vanguard of any assault. I wanted none of them to survive my conquest of this island.
A moment later, a smile came to my face. Some, if not many of the men outside, even after accepting my terms of service, would break their oaths. When that happened, the anger that swirled around within would be released, and all would understand that they should not enrage me.
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As the evening drew upon us two days after taking the port, I was once more leading my men toward battle. Or at least most of them. Bronn was remaining behind in the southern port along with a hundred and fifty men to hold it, keep the coin, trade goods, and slaves that were aboard the Pride save and watch over the pirates who’d bent the knee and signed my charter.
In the end, around a dozen men chose to follow their commander and were executed. That was a higher proportion than had failed to follow when I’d taken Dustspear or raided The Whores, but given the men of Redwater likely spent more time skirmishing and less being true pirates, it made sense more would be willing to die over serving another. Of the rest, bar thirty who were serving as scouts for my forces as we moved north, the rest remained behind. None of them were armed, as they had yet to prove their loyalty, and were helping with repairs and securing the port.
Arming those men, and any that bent the knee once Vaegon was defeated, was going to be an issue. All told I could be looking about one pirate from Redwater to every two of the men I’d brought with me. Given that about sixty per cent of my forces were already former pirates, it was something I would have to monitor. Still, so long as I kept them well-paid and won battles I felt I could count on them for now. Later, once Redwater was taken or razed, then an issue might arise but that was a matter for further into the future.
All the men not with Bronn were moving toward the northern port, however, we weren’t moving as a single force. The majority were with Daemon moving westward before they’d swing up toward the western walls of the port. That force would be the main assault as the western walls of the port were the weakest; both in how they were manned and their condition.
Around a hundred men, including my squires, were approaching the hill that marked roughly the middle distance between the two ports at the southern end of Redwater. Once there, we’d wait for some time before moving forward, though to avoid being spotted we’d be travelling through the forest on either side of the track.
Daemon and I were both in full armour for this assault, though to help hide that we’d covered it and our shields in dirt and tar. I was also wearing a makeshift shawl over my shoulders. When I’d asked them to dirty up my armour, neither Trystane nor Edric had argued, but I suspect both weren’t looking forward to having to clean it later.
For a time, I had considered leaving the pair behind with Bronn, given the potential chaos of the battle. However, I dismissed that notion. Though young, they were trained in combat, equipped with decent armour—at least for now, as I feared they might outgrow it before we returned to Sunspear—and needed to learn how to fight beyond the confines of a training yard. After all, what was the point of their squireship otherwise? Jekar was with Daemon, though his page, Morsh, had remained behind. The street urchin had only received the most rudimentary training, and despite his spirit, his lack of experience, armour, and youth had led Daemon to decide that Morsh would be safer with Bronn.
The last element of my forces for this attack was a group of about fifty men. that was being led by Jaeronos and had headed east from my newly acquired port. They weren’t meant to attack Vaegon’s remaining port so much as sweep the forest to the east of it. The runners that had come from there and those that we’d spoken to after they’d bent the knee had told of Vaegon keeping scouts deployed in the forests to the east in case Rakakz attempted a raid over the land. I wanted those scouts taken out without damaging any watchtowers they might have or alerting Rakakz to what was happening. The locations would be useful for protecting my forces from assault, and the longer it took for Rakakz to learn Vaegon had been replaced – especially by a force from elsewhere – the easier it should be for me to take him out.
As we reached the hill, I looked upward, just above to make out Rian as he flew high above us. While I had two gulls – caged and their beaks tied to keep them silent – for scouting the port before we assaulted it tomorrow morning, having Rian back was a relief. Unlike the gulls, he could be airborne before I shifted into his mind, meaning I had something akin to an early warning system. Yes, the forests, at least a hundred metres or so beyond the ports and track, were dense, but Rian’s eyesight was sharp enough that he could detect movement through the slightest of gaps in the canopy.
From scouting yesterday with Rian and a mind-broken gull, and those that had bent the knee, I’d confirmed that Vaegon had between two and three hundred men in the northern port. The number varied depending on how many longboats were at sea. Generally, it was two who acted as an advanced watch, but if Vaegon launched another raid, more than half the port might be absent. That was unlikely to be the case as Vaegon had launched a successful raid before we’d taken the southern port, and with the messenger team not reporting back from the port, Vaegon was likely being cautious with his men.
Due to the forces that I was sending against him, and the recon I’d provided Daemon, Jaeronos, and my Lieutenants, it was unlikely we’d not carry the day tomorrow. Still, I wasn’t taking chances and even while Daemon’s forces assaulted the western wall, my team would attack the main gate. Said gate wasn’t anything impressive, being just two larger watchtowers with a solid wooden gate between them, but it would be harder to assault than the weakened western wall.
To help with taking the men on the wall and gate out, Edric was carrying my weirwood bow. As the sun rose, I’d begin targeting the men around the gate, though I doubted we’d be able to breach it easily. The main assault would begin on Daemon’s, or more accurately, Ymir’s signal. The direwolf was with him and would howl once the lead elements of Daemon’s force were at and through the wall.
From there, it would be chaos, though the battle would continue until Vaegon lay dead or beaten at my feet, and his men surrendered.
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