Dragonlord Chapter 172: The war in the West P1

The Nimbus broke through the thick mist that hung over the western sea like a silver veil. Far beneath her enchanted steelclad hull, the waves rolled sluggishly against the rocky coast of Fair Isle, the morning sun gilding the ocean in gold and bronze. The banners of the black direwolf fluttered proudly from the flag posts as they sailed through the clouds.

Seagulls scattered in alarm as the Nimbus sailed past the towering mountains stretching across the eastern cliffs of the Fair Isle. 

The Northern fleet dotted the waters below like a swarm of black beetles—sturdy, broad-hulled ships bearing the direwolf of House Stark. The land that stretched along the coasts of the island bore no marks of battle. House Farman had surrendered to Captain Nimpton and Leobald Tallhart without a fight when the Northern fleet surrounded the island.

Harry stood on the forward observation deck, his long dark cloak snapping in the cold sea wind, and the polished metal of his armour gleamed under the rays of dawn. His gloved hands rested on the railing, his sharp grey eyes studying the island fortress that loomed ahead — Faircastle, the seat of House Farman. Once a proud bastion of Lannister trade and naval might, it now flew the banner of House Stark. The golden lion that had fluttered there for centuries was gone, its shreds cast to the sea below.

The war in the Westerlands was almost over. With House Florent pulling back their men and Stannis recalling his fleet, the Westerlands were now at the mercy of House Stark and House Tully. The Tully-Lefford army and the Company of Rose had already reached the outskirts of Casterly Rock. The word he got from Asher Forrester, who was accompanying the Company of Rose, placed the army near the Goldroad, cutting off Casterly Rock from any aid from the south.

“Not a drop of blood, and we won this whole island.” Elsera said, standing by his side as the island stretched out before them.

“Indeed.” Harry hummed quietly as the wind whistled past his ear. “Better to win without killing when we can. Fair Isle was never the enemy nor the prime target.”

“The Lannisters.” Elsera whispered with a nod.

Harry nodded.

“An enemy sitting on a mountain of gold is a dangerous enemy despite their current weakness.” Harry said with a frown.

It felt like a justification for a blatant power grab. In some ways, it was a power grab. But power remained on the side of those who went out to seek it. If he didn’t act now, the chances of House Lannister regaining its lost power and becoming a contentious power in the Westerlands were almost a guarantee. In their stead, House Lefford would be beholden to the North.

So, the way forward was clear in Harry’s eyes.

The Nimbus settled on a clearing near Faircastle. Harry descended the ramp, accompanied by Elsera and Josera, along with some guards. There were riders coming towards them from the castle.

It didn’t take long for Harry and his guards to be escorted to Faircastle. Inside the castle, he was greeted by Lord Leobald Tallhart and Captain Nimpton.

Both men bowed as he approached. Leobald’s armour bore some scuffs of recent fighting. Captain Nimpton, commander of the Northern fleet, stood beside him with eyes as dark as obsidian and sharp as steel.

“Fair Castle stands yours, my prince,” Nimpton said. “Lord Sebaston Farman yielded his castle without a fight. His bannermen saw no wisdom in dying for a lion whose claws have been clipped.”

Harry’s gaze swept across the castle’s sea-facing towers. Smoke rose from the settlements close to the castle, but he had observed they remained intact. So, he assumed the smoke came from the forges and kitchens.

“Any losses on our side?”

“Minimal,” Leobald replied. “A few skirmishes at the docks, nothing more. The garrison surrendered before the sun broke the horizon. The people were also cooperative, and we have left them untouched as you ordered. Any man who took part in any misdeeds was flogged publicly.”

Harry inclined his head.

“Good. We take no pleasure in butchery. The people of Fair Isle will remember that and must appreciate the peace and prosperity we bring if we’re to hold this territory.”

Leobald chuckled dryly.

“Aye, they’ll remember the Northerners who came from the sea like ghosts. We already have a good repute among the people as unbeatable warriors.”

Harry turned to Nimpton.

“And the fleet?”

“Every ship intact, my prince,” Nimpton replied with satisfaction. “We spread our landing parties across the island — as you commanded. No escape, no resistance. We’ve taken their shipwrights alive, and their docks are now ours. The few cogs they have are also under our command.”

“Excellent.” Harry nodded in appreciation of the man’s efforts. “We’ll need every able man we can keep. The Iron Fleet is broken, leaving us as the sole naval power in this region. The western seas along the North, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands and the Westerlands will be dominated by our fleet.”

“Lannisport now stands unguarded, my prince. This is the moment to strike.” Lord Leobald said with an eager look.

“What do you suggest, Captain Nimpton? Is the fleet ready?” Harry asked, looking at Captain Nimpton.

Nimpton nodded.

“The city is vulnerable, my prince. A swift strike by sea, and the harbour would fall before the lions even knew you were upon them.”

“Oh, I doubt they remain ignorant. The Company of Rose and the Riverland army have already cut off Casterly Rock from the Goldroad. They can guess the next attack will be on Lannisport.” Harry said with a snort.

“Then we sail our troops into the port, and take command of the city. We can encircle Casterly Rock.” Leobald said with his arms crossed.

“Precisely,” Nimpton said. “The Rock will have no way to resupply. Their mines remain closed, their trade gone. Lannister gold will rot beneath the mountain while their men starve above it.”

Harry stared down at the map for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“It sounds easy when spoken,” he said finally. “But a lion cornered is most dangerous when wounded. The Lannisters may still choose to bleed us as we take control of the city.”

He rose and walked toward the window overlooking the sea. The waves of the Sunset Sea crashed below the cliffs, white foam against dark stone. For a moment, the rhythmic sound filled the hall, washing away the clamour of war.

“I need to know what the conditions are in the city. I need to know its defences and who has control over the city before making a move.”

******

“Prince Harrion.” Lord Sebastian Farman approached him with a genial smile. “Fair Castle is honoured by your presence.”

“Lord Farman, well met.” Harry acknowledged the man with a nod before turning his attention back to the sea, where his war galleys and cogs were preparing for the assault on Lannisport.

Some of the ships had already set sail, but to observe the harbours of Lannisport for any activity.

“I have sent a raven to Winterfell seeking time for the formal swearing, my prince. His grace was gracious enough to give me time till the war in the Westerlands is put to rest.” Sebastian said.

“The swearing ceremony can be held after the war. Perhaps, you may travel with me on the Nimbus, Lord Farman.” Harry offered the man.

After all, Lord Farman was to be his sworn bannerman. Giving the lord of Fair Isle a taste of the heavens and the scope of what lay ahead under the umbrella of Avalon was something Harry looked forward to. House Farman’s position at the farthest edge of Avalon’s sphere of influence in the Sunset Sea made them a valuable ally. He had plans for Fair Isle to command more of the trade routes into the southern seas.  

“It’d be a great honour to travel with you while touching the heavens, my prince.” Sebastian bowed low, his eyes glowing with excitement at the prospect of having a ride to the North in the airship.

Harry offered a smile to the man.

“There is one other matter that I need to bring to your attention, my prince.”

“Oh! What is it?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“A raven arrived from Casterly Rock shortly before your ship descended. It was addressed to me by Lord Tyrion Lannister.”

That gained Harry’s undivided attention.

“Lord Tyrion?” Harry asked. “What does it say?”

Sebastian reached into his doublet and produced the parchment.

Harry took the letter. His eyes moved across the page in silence. When he finished, he looked up, the faintest shadow of surprise on his face.

“He seeks terms and wishes to surrender Lannisport and Casterly Rock,” Harry said after carefully reading the contents of the parchment. “He also claims he is being held against his will in Casterly Rock by his late uncle’s children and other rebellious extended family.”

Harry frowned at the parchment as his mind raced with the possibilities opened by this new development.

“What do you have to say about this, Lord Sebastian?” Harry asked, considering he had no interaction so far with Tyrion Lannister, the infamous Imp of the Lannister family.

The only thing he knew about Tyrion Lannister was that the man was a dwarf and the least controversial son of Tywin Lannister. Other than that, Harry had never bothered to learn more or had the opportunity to learn more about the current Lord of the Rock. He knew Stannis Baratheon kept Tyrion Lannister in power as an insult to the Westerlands and perhaps to ferment discontent amongst Lannister bannermen.

Going by the current developments, that idea seems to have worked splendidly. Unfortunately, the events just happened to play out in a way that forced Stannis Baratheon into a weak position.

“Tyrion Lannister is a dwarf, but he is no less dangerous, my prince.  Of the three children of Lord Tywyn, he alone is the one closer to the Old Lion in guile and ability.”

“Is that so?” Harry looked expectantly at the lord of Faicastle.

“Aye, my prince. Lord Tyrion is an able administrator despite his less savoury proclivities to wine and whores. But as you know, he lacks the physique to maintain his rule, so he must depend on others for physical strength.”

“Do you think Tyrion is setting a trap?” Harry asked.

“I will say it’ll not be outside his capability,” Sebastian admitted. “But I can see his family turning on him and taking control of the Rock. He is, at the end of the day, a dwarf. There are limits to what he can accomplish when ambitious men surround him with no respect for his authority.”

“If Tyrion Lannister was usurped of his powers by rebellious members of his family, how come he managed to send a raven to Faircastle?” Harry asked.

“Maester Creylen and Gerion Lannister must’ve aided Lord Tyrion.”

“So, there are some people supporting Tyrion.” Harry commented, looking expectantly at Sebastian.

“Not many, my prince.”

“Perhaps, Lord Tyrion is seeking aid.” Harry said, folding the letter. “Or perhaps it’s bait. Tyrion is clever enough to weave lies out of truths. Either way, it smells of desperation.”

“It shows that the Rock is far weaker than anyone thought.” said Sebastian.

Harry stared out of the window, watching the sails and banners flutter in the wind with a thoughtful frown.

“If you send a raven back, what are the chances Lord Tyrion will receive it and return a response?” Harry asked.

“If Maester Creylen is loyal to Lord Tyrion, as I assume, it is plausible. But I wouldn’t advise it, my prince.” Sebastian advised.

“Why so?” Harry asked, though he could already guess the answer.

“Your presence in Fair Isle is only known to a few of us. If the Lannisters learn of your arrival, whatever plans they’ve concocted will change.”

“A predictable enemy is preferable to an unpredictable one.” Harry said with a soft hum.

At the same time, he noted the shrewdness of Lord Farman. He wondered whether the man was always this shrewd or if he had become more thoughtful after the disaster wrought by the Dornish invasion during the Lannister rebellion.

Whatever the case, Harry was starting to like Lord Sebastian Farman.

“There will be a meeting tomorrow night to assess the strategy we will be employing to capture Lannisport. You should attend this meeting.” Harry said, to which Lord Sebastian agreed courteously.

******

The hearthfire burned low, its orange light painting shadows across banners of House Farman. Beyond the windows, the harbour below gleamed with the lanterns of the Northern fleet, ships moored close together like a steel wall upon the dark water.

Harry sat at the head of the table inside the great hall of Faircastle. The great table of House Farman was covered in maps. Parchments weighed down with daggers, cups of wine gone cold beside them. The war council had gathered: Lord Leobald Tallhart, Captain Nimpton, Lord Sebastian Framan, Nymeria, Elsera and Josera, along with half a dozen other northern officers of the fleet, were present in the hall.

Harry stood at the table’s head, his dark hair catching the firelight, his cloak clasped with a silver wolf’s head. Nymeria sat on the table by his side, but instead of keeping her focus on the maps and the conversation around the table, she was ogling him with her dark eyes, and also scratching behind the ear of Fenris. His trusted wolf had somehow transformed into an attention-seeking puppy who followed around Nymeria.

The discussion so far had centred around which ships needed to be used and how many men they needed to take complete control of the city.   

The door opened with a creak. His chief spy, Daro Ohadras, walked in composed, but his boots were slick with mud. His hair clung to his face, wet from the heavy rain outside.

“My prince, my lords,” he said, bowing, “the scouts have returned from the mainland. From Lannisport.”

Every head turned.

Harry motioned him forward.

“Speak.”

Daro unrolled a small scroll, his fingers trembling slightly from the cold as he read.

“My men entered the city through the south gate disguised as traders. The harbour remains open, though the Florent fleet has fled south as reported. The Lannisters have fortified the piers and the shipyards—about two hundred men on watch, more by day than night. Many ballistas are mounted on the walls overlooking the bay, though more than half are unmanned. The city’s gate guards are thin, mostly boys and old men. Also, the breach on the western section of the city wall created by Lord Harrion during the Lannister rebellion remains. However, Ser Axel Florent had it covered with some stones and wood with support beams propping that section from inside the city.”  

“Numbers?” asked Nimpton quickly.

“Perhaps five hundred within the harbour proper. Another eight hundred garrisoned in the city. No more than that, my lord. Many fled inland when news of Fair Isle’s surrender to the Northern fleet reached them. The Lannisters and their cadet houses, Lannys, Lannetts and Lantells, are heavily crippled thanks to the Dornish siege during the rebellion. More of them fled and surrendered to House Tully last week. The Lannisters are struggling with desertion among their ranks.”

“So they’ve left a hollow shell. Good. The Rock’s claws are duller than they look.” Leobald grunted with a satisfied smile.

Harry raised a hand, silencing him. “Continue.”

Daro nodded before continuing all that he learned from his spies.

“The western docks are patrolled by sellsails under House Marbrand’s coin, but discipline is poor. They quarrel among themselves. And…” He hesitated. “The smallfolk whisper of fires seen at Casterly Rock. They say the gold mines have collapsed or flooded. Some say the Lannisters have fallen to infighting. The city is restless and ripe with rumours, keeping the smallfolk in fear. They fear another purge, the likes of which they suffered under Prince Oberyn.”

“Sellsails,” Harry muttered with some confusion. “How come sellsails are working under House Marbrand?”

“The Ironborn in exile from the isles, my prince. I suspect Asha Greyjoy is also involved, but I couldn’t confirm her presence in the city.” Daro said with an apologetic look. “If I have more time…”

“No. This is more than enough, Daro. You have done well.” Harry said, nodding at his chief spy.

The room fell into a heavy silence broken only by the crackle of the fire. Harry stared at the map spread before him—Lannisport drawn in careful ink, its walls and harbours marked in red.

“So,” he said quietly, “five hundred men on the harbour, less than a thousand in the city. No navy worth the name except a few belonging to sellsails or Ironborn. Lannisport is vulnerable.”

Leobald leaned forward, planting both hands upon the table.

“Then we strike at dawn. The fleet sails east with the tide, we land men on both sides of the bay, take the piers before the lions can blink.”

Nimpton shook his head before jabbing his finger at the wall protecting the city by the western harbour.

“Too predictable. They will be expecting that since they know our fleet is ready to sail into the port. The Lannisters still have archers on the walls, and those ballistas Daro mentioned can gut a ship in one volley. We need to take those out from afar, and for that, we’ll need catapults. We attack the western walls and bring the ballistas down with them.”

“Captain Nimpton is right. We cannot risk our ships being damaged. The North will need them in the coming days.” Harry said with a frown as he immersed himself in thought.

“Attack from the sea and the sky.” Nymeria said, leaning forward on the table from her seat while making a show of looking closely at the map.

Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes as Nymeria blatantly showed off more skin as she leaned over the map on her side. Her golden silk dress slipped more down as she reached for the wooden coins representing Northern ships and placed them firmly on the sea, while placing the red coin representing the Nimbus straight over the city.

While he had his complaints about Nymeria’s blatant attempt to get a rise out of him, he couldn’t help but nod at the strategy she pushed forward. It was not a nuanced strategy, but it was cautious and aimed to cause the least damage to their fleet.

Harry had hoped to use the fleet to attack Lannisport while he used the Nimbus to take Casterly Rock. But the strategy offered by Nymeria appealed to him more as he was unwilling to place his fleet in too much danger. After all, the ships assembled at Fair Isle were some of the fastest ships in his fleet. They were needed to keep his stranglehold on these seas for the coming years, and losing even one sat unwell with him, especially when it could be avoided.

“It’s a cautious strategy, one that I approve.” Harry nodded at Nymeria.

“As I understand, the Nimbus has the means to knock out the ballistas from the sky. The wildfire jars or the exploding scorpions could take out the city's defences. After that, the fleet can safely sail into the harbour and engage with any resistance put forth by the Lannisters and sellsails.” Nymeria further expanded upon her plan.

“Wildfire!” Sebastian said, pale-faced as all the colour drained away. “Please don’t tell me the plan is to burn the whole city down.”

“No, it’s not. We won’t be using wildfire even if it’s in the city wall. The chances of a fire spreading across the city are too high, especially if the siege is bloody and long.” Harry said firmly. “There are other means the Nimbus can employ to take out the city wall.”

No one contended against his decision.

“Once the walls are breached, our men go street by street,” Harry said. “No burning or looting unless necessary. We take the port intact—its shipyards, its stores, its coin, its timber. Lannisport will be worthless if we burn it down. We’re not here to burn cities but to build anew over the old and usher in a new age.”