201Siege of Pyke
Casterly Rock 289 AC
Karl Franz spent time with his Uncle, Grandfather and Father as they planned on how best to besiege the Iron Islands and put down this rebellion. His father got familiar with the serving wenches in-between military planning and training himself a bit.
He meanwhile spent time surveying the troops, getting himself introduced to the local nobles with the help of his grandfather. Asking them about their lands, their lineages, their accomplishments, promising retribution. His uncle Jaime standing close to him as always, while he would sometimes interact with others alongside his uncle Tyrion which ruffled his grandfather but he simply told him.
"Tyrion is family, whether a dwarf or not. He is my Uncle that won't change."
Karl had seen too much to judge a man by his stature and Tyrion reminded him of his friends from the mountain. Especially with regards to the drinking and cleverness, the dwarves always aided him in his hour of need. They stood together till the end of the world man and dwarves.
Sometimes he wondered of the fate of Thorgrim Grudgebearer how did he die? Did he die with a pair of demons laughing over him? Did he die rallying a final stand within the Karaks? Did he die writing one final grudge into the book that would never be fulfilled…
"The Reachmen have arrived" He was shaken from his thoughts as Jaime opened the door, he set down the book he was reading before striding out to the courtyard. Dressed in a doublet the prince strode forth. His very presence commanding authority was further enhanced by the kingsguard beside him as well as two Lannister household guards.
He made his way to the courtyard coming to stand by his Father who looked like he would rather do anything but welcome guests. His Grandfather along with the members of House Lannister stood in an ordered fashion. As well as the other Westerlands Bannermen who had brought their levies to Casterly Rock.
He had interacted with them all of them, as one would expect they were respectful to the prince and fearful of his grandfather ever-present gaze. The Rains of Castamere was still fresh in the mind of the Bannermen.
He was brought back to reality with the audible noise of the gate raising, the chains practically screeching as they strained to drag the gate up. As the gate was raised, he was greeted by a column of knights dressed in flamboyant colours, a feeling of nostalgia and grief hummed within him.
It reminded him of Bretonnia with their flamboyant knights and colours. He now understood why the Reach was called the land of knights although some disparagingly called them summer knights.
As the procession filed in, he found a sizable man riding a horse, sizable in the sense the man belly was bloating out before him and he is plump. Beside him rode a strapping young man, he presumed with the flower on their breastplates that it was Mace Tyrell the Warden of the Reach and his son or Heir.
The procession stopped before them, Mace Tyrell getting off his horse and he approached giving a bow to him and his father which made his belly jiggle. His son bowing next to him.
"Your Grace I have rallied the banners of the Reach and we are here to get rid of the wretched Ironborn scum," He said rather pompously, His father's distaste for the Tyrell lord was obvious but he seemed placated by the idea that they were both there to spill the blood of Ironborn.
"Ah, I'll be glad to march into battle with the Might of the Reach behind me!" His father bellowed earning smiles from the Reach knights
"This is my son Garlan Tyrell." He gestured to the boy next to him much smaller than his father but still dressed in resplendent plate armour with the emblem of Hous Tyrell Embossed on it
"And my boy Karl Baratheon." His father clapped him on his back. He nodded to the Garlan before reaching out his hand which Garlan took clasping their arms.
"Well met." The Prince greeted
"Likewise Your Highness" Garlan greeted in return also bowing his head.
"Does your son spar Mace?" His father asked an appraising look in his eyes
"Aye, he does, against multiple enemies your Grace. He is one of the finest young swords of the Reach."
"I have heard the prince wields the Warhammer and the Sword" Garlan piped up cordially earning a smile from his Father
"Aye he does, I wish to see you two spar later" His father spoke with excitement and Mace Tyrell was practically beaming no doubt wishing to ingratiate his family with the King.
Perfect, this was good. It served his aims to keep the Reach close. He would build camaraderie with Mace and Garlan.
"I look forward to it Garlan and also hearing about the Reach." Karl chimed in and in that moment he could feel his Father's gaze on him. His father probably wished for him to merely shame Mace not build a relation.
The ceremony continued with all the requisite formalities much to the chagrin of his father who despised the waiting and needed to bed a whore or drink. He heard that Northmen were marching and were close as well. He would finally be able to meet his father's best friend and hopefully, his father could behave.
Offering a cordial smile to Garlan the two men walked together as the procession proceeded inside.
Before they spared his grandfather seemingly cornered him. Staring at him with an expectant gaze, he decided to head him off. His uncle, Jaime standing guard outside.
"I wish to endear myself to the Tyrells"
"A lion need not endear himself to sheep, grandson." His grandfather started cooly
"Even a lion needs to care when facing a hundred thousand sheep," Karl replied without skipping a step as he clasped his sparing armour on
"I fear Tyrell and Martell disloyalty; my father has not made advances in repairing our relationship. Our Alliance to the Starks is only through my father, we need more allies. If you want your legacy to survive grandfather, we must reconcile old feuds." He continued, his grandfather hummed to himself before pacing to the other end of the room.
"You fear war?" His grandfather asked him, Karl paused pondering for a moment.
"Maybe, I do not doubt the Tyrells and Martell still love the Targaryen's at heart. I fear disloyalty even more. Disloyalty can be avoided. Tyrells seek legitimacy, we can give them that in future through marriages. Martell's seek vengeance, but that will be more difficult to satisfy."
"The Tyrells have always been ambitious." His grandfather further admitted.
"Yes, and we should harness the ambition for ourselves as opposed to letting someone else do it for the good of the realm and our legacy," Karl stated with finality as he clasped the final portion of his armour on. His grandfather stood silent appraising him before speaking
"I look forward to seeing you spar" he then stepped out of the room
Glancing to the room, he grasped his sword before glancing at his Warhammer. Deciding he may as well take it but he was probably going to spar with his sword. Warhammers in this world felt foreign to him, less powerful. He missed Ghal Maraz in a way, the weapon was always by his side, slew countless foes and was a symbol of pride for himself but also the Empire. Wherever he went on the battlefield men could see him atop Deathclaw and Ghal Maraz held high above. His uncle Jaime stepped in behind him and followed after him.
Stepping out towards the sparing area where various nobles and knights were sparing watching or generally loitering. His father was in the area with the best view alongside his uncle, grandfather and other prominent nobles.
A caw was heard before Deathclaw swooped down to perch on his shoulder, earning looks of surprise from everyone around who had not seen his companion before. Garlan strode into the sparing area and up to him, apprising him and Deathclaw before giving a small smile along with a laugh.
"My brother would faint were he to meet your companion."
"Deathclaw might have that impact on people." Karl joked back in good nature, the griffin preening
"You have a brother? Older or younger?" Karl asked politely
"Older, names Willas, He enjoys hawking and has a fascination with animals," Garlan replied but Karl noticed a slight grimace when he mentioned his brother.
"Maybe one day he might meet Deathclaw," Karl affirmed with a nod as Deathclaw cocked his head at Garlan before spreading his wings and taking flight. Everyone's attention now went to the Crown prince and the Tyrell son.
"You have a Warhammer and sword I see, which do you plan on using?" Garlan asked, his eyes narrowing as the two young men began sizing each other up.
"Warhammer" he replied easily before handing his sword to his Uncle who nodded and took it before stepping off to the side.
"Come on Karl show the Tyrell why a Warhammer is better than a sword!" Robert called out already in the cups of wine and was jovial. He glanced to his father before giving a nod of acknowledgement turning back to Garlan. Grasping his hands around his warhammer, he took a step back as did Garlan while the Casterly Rock master of arms stepped up.
"Start on my mark, clean spar boys, don't want any blood spilt." The Master of arms said earning nods of affirmation from the boys before stepping back.
"Spar!" He called Garlan dashed forward going for a simple testing strike, Karl reacted bringing up his Warhammer to parry the blow. The audible clang of metals clashing filled the arena.
Garlan seemed surprised by the force behind his hammer but that did not stop him from advancing closer a rain of blows was exchanged but both of them parried and returned their own testing strikes. Their feet moving and drawing lines across the arena, marking their presence with prints.
Some of the Reachmen began cheering on their Tyrell Rose while Stormlands men and Westermen began cheering for their crown price. Robert was the loudest but yet barely audible over the clang of steel.
The spar went on and on, none of them seemingly giving ground both engaged in a seeming dance of sword against warhammer. Karl would admit he felt like drawing the spar on, wanting to give a show but also this was a spar not a fight to the death. He also believed the way to earn Garlan's respect was through sparring.
Karl decided after a few more blows that enough was enough, gripping his Warhammer in both hands and putting all his force into a blow. Garlan attempted to sidestep but knew he would not be able to dodge instead hoping to parry the Warhammer. But Karl had the strength of the Baratheons and Garlan soon found him relieved of his blade with a sharp ring. Letting go of the sword rather than risking breaking his arm.
"I yield" Garlan announced with a proud smile as Karl lowered his Warhammer.
"THAT'S MY BOY!" Robert shouted loudly clapping, before storming over and slapping his son on the back.
"You fought well though Garlan." Robert also in a moment of surprise to his son complimented the Tyrell.
"Thank you, your Grace." Garlan tilted his head in a low bow but one could tell he was proud of the king's praise. Mace Tyrell and other Reachmen seem placated as well, Mace puffing his chest out in pride.
He reached his hand out and shook it with Garlan both young men giving each other firm nods and a firmer handshake. A friendship was beginning to grow.
Karl had grown closer to Tyrell finding out more about the Reach as well as his family. He also met with Randyll Tarly. The man was dour but he was a good general, arguably one of the best. If he had to rank Westeros Commanders, His Father, Stannis and Randyll Tarly would be solid picks.
His father eagerly bounded down to Casterly Rock courtyard having heard Northern Banners had been spotted. His father's love of Ned Stark was legendary and Karl would not deny he was interested in getting to know the Northmen and Ned Stark. The Northmen reminded him of Norsca just like the Greyjoys but he could respect the Northmen code of honour and loyalty, the Direwolf reminded him of Ulric. He was sure Boris Todbringer would probably feel right at home with them.
At the front of the procession was a man with a long face and brown hair. Dressed in leathers and a direwolf badge over his heart. That was Ned Stark, besides him was a towering man, some of the other men marvelled at his size. But Karl was undisturbed he identified the symbol as House Umber. A third man trailed behind cause Karl's eyes to narrow, his pale form and pink armour, his pale cold eyes. It was a flayed man, he knew who it was House Bolton principal bannerman and rival to House Stark.
Something unnerved Karl about him, it reminded him of those sycophants who sold the Empire Citizens to the Von Carsteins…
"NED!" His father's voice boomed across the courtyard before stepping forward as Ned and his Lords dismounted and gave the Lord of the North a firm hug.
"Your Grace" Ned Stark greeted his voice cool as the winds of the north.
"None of that horseshit! How have you been? How's Cat and the North?"
"I have been fine your Grace and Cat is well, the North is harsh your Grace but we answer the call," Ned said dutifully as Lord Umber barked
"Aye can't wait to kill those squid fuckers!" Meanwhile, Lord Bolton remained quiet observing, he stepped forward
"Ah, Ned here's my boy, Karl!" His father slapped him over the back as he tilted his head and nodded to Lord Stark
"Pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark"
"Likewise my prince" Lord Stark said formally with a small bow of his head
"I look forward to seeing the North fight, my father told me every Northman is worth a dozen soldiers," Karl stated complimentarily earning a wide grin from Lord Umber.
"And every Umber soldier worth fifteen of 'em!"
His eyes then met Lord Boltons, both appeared to be sizing each other up. Bolton did not unnerve him, but rather made him alert, there was something off about that man… His eyes were soulless and skin pale as the Northern Snow.
"Lord Bolton and Lord Umber a pleasure to meet you as well. I wish to get to know bannerman from all of the seven kingdoms." Karl pressed acknowledging both men
"As you wish my prince." Lord Bolton intoned and nodded his head both men continuing their silent stand-off. Karl would keep an eye on house Bolton. Better the honourable Starks than the flaying Boltons.
News had arrived, his Uncle Stannis had crushed the Iron Fleet giving them Naval supremacy. Lord Balon's son, Rodrik was slain by Lord Mallister.
Soldiers were loaded up onto the transports as his father and other lords watched on. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his grandfather's mad dog enforcer, the Mountain. That man was a loose cannon, his grandfather kept him around because he instilled fear. But unlike his grandfather, he recognised the dogs in the banner eventually a mad dog bites the hand that feeds it and orders it.
It was because of his grandfather's action and the Mountains against Elia Martell and her children had alienated Dorne. He understood why his Grandfather did that, it secured Roberts Reign, but they could have kept them hostage and the way they killed them… was monstrous, to say the least.
At least sending Elia back to Dorne and keeping them hostage would have kept Dorne in line but now… he had one Kingdom that would like to return the favour of what happened to Elia and her children upon him and his siblings.
His Fathers love of Stark concerned him, everyone heard the story of how his father went to war for Lyanna Stark. But his father was a deeply upset man… a flawed man. His love of Starks could be detrimental, the North while the largest of the seven kingdoms was strategically impregnable but offensively, crossing the Rivers of the Riverlands and the only bridge controlled by House Frey, they were limited. If he was under attack it would take way longer for the North to reach him than any other Kingdom.
He could not afford to be locked into a marriage alliance with the Starks. He needed the Reach.
"Karl, we are ready." His Uncle Jaime spoke glancing around he nodded as they boarded a ship heading to Pyke.
Pyke 289 AC
The nearby castle of Botley was in ruins and the town of Lordsport was levelled and sacked. Lord Stark admirably controlled discipline, preventing the majority of rape and looting. Some soldiers grumbled but the Northerners made sure his word was followed. Greatjon Umber, Lord of Lasthearth also helped, the Lord was as big as the mountain and practically as strong.
The salt wives were freed as well as any slaves, crying in relief and hope that they were liberated from the Ironborne. This hardened the resolve of the men, his father giving a rousing speech about how all that was left was the castle of Pyke and they would drag Balon Greyjoy from it screaming.
He had not been involved in the fighting, kept safe by his uncle Jaime and some Lannister and Baratheon guards. He stood beside them as the reverberating thump of siege weapons flinging stone against the wall of the Pyke. Siege Trenches were dug in and now it was just a waiting game. The siege weapons only stopped at night. He could see the walls starting to crack and there was potential for a breach. The siege would be ending soon.
Garlan had been close to him as well but had taken part in some minor skirmishes where he distinguished himself. Deathclaw was not enjoying the trip to the Iron Islands, not enough prey around for him to hunt, his companion was prideful he knew Karl would feed him but did enjoy the thrill of the hunt.
As night descended upon the camp. He went to his tent, nodding to his uncle who was on guard duty for him as well as the other guards. His warhammer kept close as he lay in his cot, Deathclaw not wanting to be cooped up in a tent was outside lounging about on some nearby trees. Enjoying it while he could do so instead of outright crushing the trees. Karl eventually fell into the embrace of sleep.
Night descended upon the siege encampment, the torches of a few sentries visible. The sentry fell to the ground his throat slit, the torch now carried by an Ironborne Reaver. Silently glancing at his handful of comrades who volunteered to attempt to lead a night raid and torch the siege weaponry
The men split up some heading to the tents and others heading for the siege catapults. This reaver in question headed for the tents, finding one of the fancier looking ones. Hefting his axe he ran the sharp edge of the blade across the fabric cutting through the fabric steeping through. Smiling through his rotten teeth as he saw how luxurious the tent was on the inside.
As his eyes greedily roamed over the tent, his eyes flicked to the cot but there was no one there. The last thing the reaver saw was a black silhouette and an audible crunch. What is not yet dead, just died.
Karl stood over the Reaver, blood dripping from his Warhammer. He should have anticipated a desperate night raid. Silently reaching out to Deathclaw, nudging the Griffin to begin raising the alarms. Loud squawks began filling the camp as men began getting alerted.
Stepping out and turned to his uncle who seemed startled by the noise. "RAIDERS! PROTECT THE SIEGE CATAPULTS!" Karl ordered in his imperial voice rousing nearby guards who drew their weapons as they stumbled out of their tents and formed around their prince and king as well as their lords. His uncle Jaime drew his blade and ran through a nearby reaver who howled in pain.
Karl turned to another one knee-capping him with the Warhammer before crushing his unprotected chest. Deathclaw descended on another Ironborne tearing his eyes out as he howled for the griffin to get off but Deathclaw made quick mincemeat of his face.
His father could be seen a distance away shirtless and his slightly swelling belly, swinging his Warhammer flinging an Ironborne a few feet as he landed dead. An inferno began building as one of the catapults caught fire. Karl advanced to his father who was letting out a haughty laugh as he looked for other opponents, thirsty for blood.
"Any more Ironborne to kill! Come out! Before I piss myself!" His father boldly declared and maybe he was slightly drunk earning some laughs from some nearby lords and a small smile from Karl.
"We should have anticipated a nighttime attack, it's desperate and they know they are losing." Karl grimaced, wondering how many men they just lost and catapults.
"War is fluid my boy! But we beat them back! You got your first kill didn't you?" His father asked and Karl nodded
"Aye I did, a warhammer blow put him down. What is dead, may die it seems." Karl quipped it seems to earn a laugh and slap on the shoulder from his father.
"Piss on the squid fuckers, let's crack that castle."
Soon the bombardment began once again and after the concentrated fire. The main watcher tower, jittered before the stone began ebbing away one by one before it became a torrent. The tower collapsed followed by surrounding parts of the wall creating a massive breach.
His father ordered a charge and the first two men through the breach was Thoros wielding a flaming sword inspiring men while the second was just by his side. The symbol on his armour was of house Mormont, seems the Northerners would not be denied glory.
The assault lasted a few hours before the fires died down and the clash of steel was no longer evident.
He waited patiently for his father, then he saw him. His father walks out of the breach with Ned by his side and a young boy. The boy was cowering and fearful, his eyes refusing to meet anyone. He looked into his father's eyes and at that moment Karl knew, his father spared Balon and accepted his oath of fealty again. Hoping a hostage would dissuade the Ironborne.
Karl knew he would lament this mercy when he ascended the throne. For all his father's talk of fear and blood, it was lacking. Karl and the seven kingdoms would pay a price.
Sorry, this took a while. But I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, I admit it is probably not the strongest one I have released. But I kinda wanted it to flesh out Karl and build interactions amongst bannermen and other characters, also his attempt to get rid of the Greyjoy failed. Well leave a review would be appreciated! Until next time! Merry Christmas to you all!