Chapter IV
The Iron Fleet is made ready for the Great Reaving, with my mighty galley the Ravager and Victarion's Iron Victory at its head. I bid my children and wives behind and set out for glory. Care of the Iron Isles I leave to Tristifer Botley, but he is Asha's creature and I know that she will be the one that rules in truth whilst I am away. It was, after all, the only way I could persuade the wilful girl not to follow after us.
Our journey around Westeros held few tales worthy of note. The Tyrells no doubt befouled their floral breeches when they saw us sail past their lands, but they did not impede us, and the Dornish were as timid as ever. We crossed the Narrow Sea and learned that my treacherous brother Euron Crow's Eye was in Pentos, and was plotting my demise with conspirators back in Pyke. I took the fleet to his new home and sent word he should abandon such schemes if he did not wish to lose his other eye. Euron relented, of course, and I sent word home to have his cohorts seized and drowned.
Leaving the Free Cities behind we sailed past the smoking seas of doomed Valyria, through the Gulf of Grief and into Slavers Bay. We soon seized upon our first target, a village of seemingly little note.
Eager, perhaps overeager, to take our first prize, we drew up out ships and rushed towards the village, only to find it well defended with stout walls and a hardy militia. I would later learn that this place lay close to the hunting grounds of the Dothraki Horselords, and had learned well how to defend itself against raiders from sea and land. We might, perhaps, still have claimed victory, but I was of no mind to take serious losses so early in the day. Chastened, we returned to our ships, taking the foolish scout that had marked this place an easy target and giving him to the Drowned God.
I spent the rest of that day in bitterness, until I spied a few of my warriors dancing the finger-dance, axes spinning through the air as they laughed and boasted with one another. If my Ironborn are not cowed by so early a setback, had I any right to be? I called one of them, Donnor of House Saltcliffe, over and challenged him to a finger dance. We began and Donnor flung his axe at me with not a single care that I was his King. I plucked it from the air and flung it back, laughing to myself as it laid open his hand.
My mood thus lightened, we set out for better prey, finding it in the form of a fleet of fat Volantene galleys low down in the water with cargo. They tried to run at the sight of our sails, but our ships were far swifter than theirs, and our mastery of the waves unmatched even in these strange seas, and we soon overtook them. Rushing aboard, we butchered what fighters they had like spavined pigs a broke open their holds. One ship was laden with a cargo of spices, saffron and pepper worth more than gold, the second carried fine silks and chests of silver, whilst the third, taken by Victarion, proved to be a slaver. We took the loot that pleased us, and tossed the mewling slaves over the side. They will be far happier in the Drowned God's halls than as chattels in Volantis.
We had tasted our first success of the voyage, but it would not be the last. The next day we came across another village, far richer and riper than the first, and fell upon it with wild abandon. This time, the villagers proved no match for us and we laid their homes to ruin. Many of my Ironborn took salt wives that day, with Donnor Saltcliffe claiming two of the fairest wenches for himself. I smiled as he presented them at our feast that night. Donnor has done many great deeds on this reaving and won much respect, including my own.
Our holds now near-full with plunder, I take us back out towards the Gulf of Grief. As we cross into deeper waters we catch sight of more sails on the horizon, a small fleet bound from the east. Deciding to take one last prize we make for the ships and bring them to bay, my own ship taking the largest vessel on its port side whilst the Iron Victory hit it a-starboard. Leaping over the gunwales we met with fierce opposition, no fat slavers these, but warriors of some fashion. I saw Victarion trading blows with a large man in the armor of a Westerosi knight. I moved to aid my brother but was checked by a white-bearded man, older than even myself and carrying naught but a stick. He seemed to know me, and bade me call off my men, but I sneered at him and swung my blade at his skull.
The old man caught my blade on his staff and spun faster than I would have thought possible, striking me hard across the breastplate then angling low and sweeping my feet from under me. I crashed to the deck and rolled to my feet. My Ironborn rushed to help me, but the old man proved too much for them too, smashing them to the deck, one, two, three. Still, the overall fight had gone our way, and we must surely overwhelm the old man and what few allies remained to him. I shook my head to clear it and advanced with my reavers at my side.
"Stop!" A woman's voice rang high and clear and Westerosi. I turn towards the now open cabin door and see a fair young girl with silver hair and purple eyes. But even so lovely a sight as she did not long hold my gaze, for the dim light of the cabin behind her shifts, and for the first time I see the dragons...
The Iron Fleet is made ready for the Great Reaving, with my mighty galley the Ravager and Victarion's Iron Victory at its head. I bid my children and wives behind and set out for glory. Care of the Iron Isles I leave to Tristifer Botley, but he is Asha's creature and I know that she will be the one that rules in truth whilst I am away. It was, after all, the only way I could persuade the wilful girl not to follow after us.
Our journey around Westeros held few tales worthy of note. The Tyrells no doubt befouled their floral breeches when they saw us sail past their lands, but they did not impede us, and the Dornish were as timid as ever. We crossed the Narrow Sea and learned that my treacherous brother Euron Crow's Eye was in Pentos, and was plotting my demise with conspirators back in Pyke. I took the fleet to his new home and sent word he should abandon such schemes if he did not wish to lose his other eye. Euron relented, of course, and I sent word home to have his cohorts seized and drowned.
Leaving the Free Cities behind we sailed past the smoking seas of doomed Valyria, through the Gulf of Grief and into Slavers Bay. We soon seized upon our first target, a village of seemingly little note.
Eager, perhaps overeager, to take our first prize, we drew up out ships and rushed towards the village, only to find it well defended with stout walls and a hardy militia. I would later learn that this place lay close to the hunting grounds of the Dothraki Horselords, and had learned well how to defend itself against raiders from sea and land. We might, perhaps, still have claimed victory, but I was of no mind to take serious losses so early in the day. Chastened, we returned to our ships, taking the foolish scout that had marked this place an easy target and giving him to the Drowned God.
I spent the rest of that day in bitterness, until I spied a few of my warriors dancing the finger-dance, axes spinning through the air as they laughed and boasted with one another. If my Ironborn are not cowed by so early a setback, had I any right to be? I called one of them, Donnor of House Saltcliffe, over and challenged him to a finger dance. We began and Donnor flung his axe at me with not a single care that I was his King. I plucked it from the air and flung it back, laughing to myself as it laid open his hand.
My mood thus lightened, we set out for better prey, finding it in the form of a fleet of fat Volantene galleys low down in the water with cargo. They tried to run at the sight of our sails, but our ships were far swifter than theirs, and our mastery of the waves unmatched even in these strange seas, and we soon overtook them. Rushing aboard, we butchered what fighters they had like spavined pigs a broke open their holds. One ship was laden with a cargo of spices, saffron and pepper worth more than gold, the second carried fine silks and chests of silver, whilst the third, taken by Victarion, proved to be a slaver. We took the loot that pleased us, and tossed the mewling slaves over the side. They will be far happier in the Drowned God's halls than as chattels in Volantis.
We had tasted our first success of the voyage, but it would not be the last. The next day we came across another village, far richer and riper than the first, and fell upon it with wild abandon. This time, the villagers proved no match for us and we laid their homes to ruin. Many of my Ironborn took salt wives that day, with Donnor Saltcliffe claiming two of the fairest wenches for himself. I smiled as he presented them at our feast that night. Donnor has done many great deeds on this reaving and won much respect, including my own.
Our holds now near-full with plunder, I take us back out towards the Gulf of Grief. As we cross into deeper waters we catch sight of more sails on the horizon, a small fleet bound from the east. Deciding to take one last prize we make for the ships and bring them to bay, my own ship taking the largest vessel on its port side whilst the Iron Victory hit it a-starboard. Leaping over the gunwales we met with fierce opposition, no fat slavers these, but warriors of some fashion. I saw Victarion trading blows with a large man in the armor of a Westerosi knight. I moved to aid my brother but was checked by a white-bearded man, older than even myself and carrying naught but a stick. He seemed to know me, and bade me call off my men, but I sneered at him and swung my blade at his skull.
The old man caught my blade on his staff and spun faster than I would have thought possible, striking me hard across the breastplate then angling low and sweeping my feet from under me. I crashed to the deck and rolled to my feet. My Ironborn rushed to help me, but the old man proved too much for them too, smashing them to the deck, one, two, three. Still, the overall fight had gone our way, and we must surely overwhelm the old man and what few allies remained to him. I shook my head to clear it and advanced with my reavers at my side.
"Stop!" A woman's voice rang high and clear and Westerosi. I turn towards the now open cabin door and see a fair young girl with silver hair and purple eyes. But even so lovely a sight as she did not long hold my gaze, for the dim light of the cabin behind her shifts, and for the first time I see the dragons...
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