14 “This is my ship.
Not the fastest, but it’s mine.
I’ve always wanted a ship…
now I want a dozen.
Strange, isn’t it?
16: Chapter 14 “This is my ship.
Not the fastest, but it’s mine.
I’ve always wanted a ship…
now I want a dozen.
Strange, isn’t it?
“No matter what we want, once we get it, we just want something else.”❞ The sun was sinking toward the horizon, painting the water crimson and gold.
The shores of the Shield Islands, which had been packed with ships only a short while ago, were gradually emptying.
One ship after another left the welcoming harbor, falling into a neat line as they sailed away.
Oars churned the water into foam while muffled orders came from the decks as the helmsmen called out the pace.
The Black Betha was setting out as well, its sails fluttering in the evening breeze.
After the long training session, the sparring match, and all the hard work, Arthur’s arms were practically shaking from exhaustion.
But there was nothing he could do about it.
Ray had made one thing clear from the very beginning: none of Arthur’s other activities were supposed to interfere with his actual duties.
And Arthur valued his position far too much to slack off, so he diligently helped coil ropes, carry sacks and crates, and put everything back where it belonged.
It had only been three days, but as usual, most of the work had been left until the last day.
Still, after a couple of hours of hard work, the exhaustion seemed to dull a little.
The ship finally reached open water and began moving toward the main formation.
Arthur was helping Paul again, mechanically going through his tasks, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the giant emerging from the river mouth.
The ship cut through the waves like some enormous sea beast, its broad, dark-golden hull rising above the water.
Crimson sails bearing the Lannister sigil glowed in the setting sun, while a brand-new lion statue stood proudly at the bow, its raised paw still covered in fresh paint.
“Ooh…
now that’s a beauty,” Paul said appreciatively, clicking his tongue as he admired the magnificent war galley.
“Damn.
I guess Lannister really does shit gold.” “Did they buy every ship in Highgarden?” Arthur asked in surprise, looking over the surrounding vessels.
He’d already counted a good twenty ships of all shapes and sizes, from small single-masted barques to a magnificent three-masted giant.
“Ha!
Of course not,” Paul laughed.
“Though I wouldn’t be surprised if the Tyrells gave away everything they had just to avoid getting dragged into another war.
They could’ve pulled the usual ‘Oh, we’d love to help, but unfortunately we don’t have any ships’ excuse.
But no, look over there…” He pointed toward the nearest vessel.
It was a sturdy but obviously outdated cargo cog with a broad, fat hull.
A freshly painted galley sailed beside it, but Paul merely snorted.
“See that one?
I’d bet that tub’s older than I am.
One ram and it’ll be smashed into kindling.
And most of these ships are like that.” “So they tricked the Lannisters?” Arthur asked innocently.
The older sailor burst out laughing again.
“Tywin Lannister?
I’ve never heard of anyone trying to trick him.” Paul wiped a tear from his cheek.
“You’ve heard of the Reynes of Castamere, right?
I figure he knows perfectly well what kind of ships he got.
Warships are rare, and they take a long time to build.
Nobody’s going to sell their best ships for nothing.
Not even for a mountain of gold.” Arthur frowned, trying to make sense of it.
“Then why buy these if they’re so bad?” Paul shrugged and paused before answering.
“I didn’t say they’re completely useless…” he said slowly, thinking about it himself.
“There were maybe a dozen genuine warships among them to begin with.
That’s still quite a lot.
As for the rest…
Well, they look impressive enough.
Put them together with the Royal Fleet and you’ve got a pretty formidable force.
Besides, we didn’t exactly stop at the Arbor for no reason.
Now that’s a fleet.” “I see…” Arthur murmured thoughtfully, looking over the ships.
Then another vessel drew level with them and caught his attention.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with light-colored hair stood on its upper deck.
He wore a dark woolen doublet with a crimson cloak billowing behind him.
And behind him stood a man larger than anyone Arthur had ever seen before.
“Who’s that?” Arthur asked, pointing toward the ship.
“Don’t point, you idiot,” Paul snapped.
“That’s Kevan Lannister, Tywin’s brother…” Arthur quickly lowered his hand.
Kevan probably wouldn’t have bothered looking in his direction anyway.
He was frowning as he surveyed the ships lined up ahead of him, clearly unimpressed with their quality.
Or maybe he was frowning for some other reason.
Arthur decided not to look at him again, just to be safe.
Everyone had heard the song about the Reynes of Castamere.
“You’ve already finished all of it?!” Mattos stared at Arthur in disbelief when he entered the cabin and found the boy asking about another book.
“Were you just looking at the pictures or something?” “It’s been a while,” Arthur said with a shrug.
He’d had even more free time since arriving near Feastfires Castle.
A few days after leaving the port on South Island, the Black Betha had dropped anchor again.
This time, however, the ships were anchored out at sea.
The small pier near Prester Castle, perched high on a cliff, obviously couldn’t accommodate so many ships.
Many members of the crew were wondering why the fleet had gathered here instead of somewhere more suitable, like Lannisport.
The lookouts had already spotted several barely visible ships on the horizon.
The crew was getting nervous about having them so close and repeatedly suggested giving chase, but the captains’ orders were clear.
Stay put.
“I don’t know, Art.
We’re just sitting here like bait…” Ray had spat onto the freshly cleaned deck when Arthur had asked him about it.
And Arthur, who had recently discovered another point in his Intelligence stat, had plenty of questions of his own.
For now, he simply continued training and made sure to set aside time for reading.
It hadn’t been hard to figure out the connection between reading and the increase in his Intelligence.
Unfortunately, none of his other stats seemed interested in going up, no matter how hard he tried.
The only exception was his swordsmanship skill.
“No, Art,” Mattos said regretfully, dropping onto the bed and stretching his legs out with a satisfied sigh.
“That’s the last one.
I only had three…” “Ah…
Unexpectedly, he’d started enjoying reading.
The first book had been difficult to get through, and Sea Routes hadn’t exactly been fascinating.
The second book, however, had answered Arthur’s question about how Mattos knew so much about the Stepstones.
The Song of the Sea contained the theories of Archmaester Cassander, who believed that the Stepstones had once been a land bridge connecting Westeros and Essos.
According to him, the bridge had been flooded when the ice melted in the frozen lands.
Arthur thought that explanation was complete nonsense.
He much preferred the idea that the land bridge had been destroyed by the magical song of the children of the forest, who wanted to stop the First Men from migrating into Westeros.
The maester had tried to disprove that theory, which only made Arthur enjoy the mocked examples from the old legends even more.
But his favorite book had quickly become The Life and Adventures of Elio Grivas.
Every evening, Arthur would come to Mattos’s cabin and lose himself in the thrilling adventures of the First Sword of Braavos.
In his imagination, the scenes changed one after another.
Elio fought pirates, repelled attacks, boarded ships, and fought desperate duels beneath the stars…
And who else could be considered real pirates if not the Ironborn?
They robbed people, killed them, and took whatever they could get their hands on, just like the pirates in the books.
So imagining himself in the place of the brave Grivas came surprisingly easily.
Arthur didn’t tell Mattos that he’d already read the book twice.
And it wasn’t just because the story was good.
The illustrations were pretty interesting too.
So Arthur asked him to read it again.
“Don’t worry.
We’ll be getting underway again soon,” Mattos muttered.
He’d apparently decided that Arthur had only become interested in books because he was bored.
There wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice, though.
“Soon…
when?” Arthur asked, looking up from the pages.
“Soon.
You’ll see.” Mattos gave him an evasive answer and grimaced as he rubbed his side.
The wound had already closed, but it still hurt.
His opponent’s blade had hit something inside, and now the boy couldn’t even train with a sword.
But Arthur noticed something else.
Mattos clearly knew something and didn’t want to talk about it.
“You definitely know something, don’t you?” Arthur asked suspiciously.
“Maybe,” Mattos replied after a short pause.
“But you’ll find out soon enough anyway…” “Come on, Mattos!” Arthur protested, feeling a little offended.
“I know how to keep a secret!” He wasn’t going to give up.
If his friend knew something important, Arthur intended to get it out of him.
Being kept in the dark had started to bother him more and more lately, and he wanted answers to at least some of his questions.
“I don’t doubt that.
It’s just…” Mattos sighed.
“I don’t like any of this.
Neither does my father.
All right, listen…” He quickly told Arthur what his father had told him.
The Royal Fleet, commanded by Stannis Baratheon, was already nearby.
Stannis’s plan was to lure the Ironborn fleet toward the Lannister ships and part of the Royal Fleet, then lead them straight into a trap.
The details were still unknown, but ten ships were supposed to arrive tomorrow as reinforcements.
After that, the fleet would sail toward the Iron Islands.
If they encountered the Ironborn, they were supposed to retreat without fighting, drawing them toward the strait near Fair Isle.
And then…
Some kind of trap was supposed to spring.
Mattos didn’t know what it was.
Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to say.
“So we’re bait after all…” Arthur said slowly, remembering Ray’s words and the ships they’d spotted on the horizon.
“Just don’t tell anyone,” his friend warned seriously.
“If the krakens find out…” “Do I look like a disguised Ironborn?” Arthur laughed.
“No,” Mattos snorted.
“More like a slightly tanned Northman.
Or maybe a disguised wildling…
Haven’t decided yet.” “Wildlings can’t read, in case you didn’t know,” Arthur shot back.
Then he noticed Mattos’s expression.
“By the way, why are you so gloomy?” Mattos sighed.
“We aren’t even going to take part in the fighting.
We’re just going to run…” Frustration was obvious in his voice.
“No glory.
No honors…
You killed at least two of them.
I only killed one.
My father is probably disappointed about that too.” “Well, the war isn’t over yet,” Arthur said with a shrug.
“There’ll definitely be a couple of Ironborn left for you.” He didn’t bother reminding his friend that, in his current condition, a real battle might turn out very differently from how Mattos imagined it.
Arthur also doubted that Davos was actually upset about not getting to fight.
Ser Davos didn’t seem like the kind of man who chased glory.
Level: 3 Physical Strength: 3 Agility: 3 Health: 98/100 Intelligence: 3 Endurance: 3 Magic: 78/100 Magical Power: 1 Luck: 2 “Everyone, listen up!” Ser Davos’s voice, usually calm and measured, was now firm and commanding.
Early that morning, barely after the sun had risen above the horizon, royal banners appeared across the water.
Nine war galleys joined the fleet at anchor, immediately sparking excited discussion among the sailors.
Every ship was preparing.
Captains gathered their crews and handed out orders before the voyage.
Only Kevan Lannister remained off to the side, leaving the task to his subordinate.
“We’re heading for Pyke.” The words immediately set off a reaction among the crew.
Some began talking excitedly.
Others swore under their breath.
A few started whispering to one another.
“Quiet!” the first boatswain, Hal, roared.
Arthur didn’t like the man.
Something about him reminded Arthur of a jailer he’d once known.
Maybe it was the rough, commanding voice.
Maybe it was his impressive belly, which had shrunk slightly after his injury but still remained enormous.
Or maybe it was the way he looked at Arthur, completely indifferent, as if the cabin boy wasn’t even there.
Arthur preferred to stay away from him.
Still, his voice quickly restored order.
“Thank you,” Davos said calmly, nodding to the boatswain.
“All right.
We’re heading for Pyke.
But our main task is to follow the flagship, the Lion Star.
Keep your eyes on the horizon.
We’re on the left flank.
Prepare the weapons and arrows.
Shields to the side…” Davos continued giving orders.
Meanwhile, Arthur felt excitement building in his chest.
Yes, he knew their objective was to lure the Ironborn into a trap.
He knew they probably wouldn’t be fighting immediately.
But knowing that didn’t make the approaching action any less exciting.
As soon as the briefing ended, the crew scattered across the ship.
Everyone got to work.
It was the usual chaos before a voyage, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before.
When Arthur finished putting on his armor and climbed onto the deck, the first person he saw was Ray.
The second boatswain was casually leaning against the railing.
When he saw Arthur, he snorted.
“What?” Arthur asked warily.
“Nothing…” Ray’s grin grew even wider.
Arthur looked around the deck…
And immediately felt like an idiot.
He was the only one wearing armor.
“You think we’re fighting right now?” the boatswain asked, barely holding back his laughter.
“Well…” Arthur opened his mouth, then stopped.
Right.
Everyone was just getting ready.
Nobody else was wearing armor.
“It’s more than a day’s journey to Pyke, lad,” Ray said with a grin, ruffling Arthur’s hair.
“Ships can be spotted from a long way off.
By the time we get close, by the time we start exchanging fire…” He paused and looked the boy over.
Then his expression became more serious.
“But at night, I wouldn’t take that armor off if I were you.
And keep your weapon close.
Got it?” “Got it,” Arthur muttered gloomily.
Looks like his adventure was being postponed again.
Though, to be fair, he probably could’ve figured that out himself.
Then again…
Maybe he just liked how he looked in the armor.
Arthur sighed heavily and leaned against the railing beside Ray.
After hesitating for a moment, he asked: “So how do people actually fight on ships?” Ray gave Arthur a skeptical look and smirked.
“You serious?” “I mean during the day…” Arthur had already learned how people fought at night from personal experience.
Ray scratched his chin, clearly deciding whether he should tell the boy anything serious.
Then he waved a hand and started explaining.
“Look, I’m no expert,” he admitted reluctantly.
“But I’ll tell you what I know since you’re asking.
A naval battle isn’t just ‘sail up and fight.’ Maneuvering is the important part.” He turned toward the arriving ships and pointed them out.
“A galley isn’t some heavy merchant cog.
It’s fast and maneuverable, but that also gives it a weakness.
If you stop it, if it loses its momentum, it becomes easy prey for boarders, even from a small boat…” “So how do they attack?” Arthur asked.
“There are three main ways.
First, ramming.” Ray pointed toward the nearest galley.
“Ramming?” Arthur asked.
“Yeah.
See that sharp iron thing under the bow of every galley?” Arthur nodded.
“That’s the ram.
You charge at full speed, using the oars, and slam it into the enemy’s side.
If you hit properly, you’ll punch straight through the hull.” “And if you don’t?” “If the hit’s too weak or you come in at a bad angle, you can get stuck yourself.
Then they’ll surround you.
That’s why captains have to pick the right moment.” Arthur thought about it.
“And the second?” “Boarding.” Ray gestured toward the masts.
“You close the distance, hook the ships together, and throw over the gangplanks.
Then it turns into a normal fight.
Swords, axes, arrows.
It’s dangerous because you’re fighting on a moving deck.
One wrong step and you’re overboard.” “But there are advantages.
You get more loot, and you can capture the ship instead of destroying it.” “And the third?” “Scorpions.” “Those are basically ballistae, right?” Arthur asked, remembering the word from somewhere.
“Almost,” Ray said with a grin.
“They’re smaller, but faster and more accurate.
See?” He pointed toward the deck of the neighboring galley, where a couple of sailors were already fitting long armor-piercing bolts into their weapons.
“Scorpions have good range and can punch through even heavy hulls.
A well-aimed volley can wreck the masts or cut down enemy rowers.
Though, from what I can see, we don’t have many.” “But that’s not enough to sink a ship, is it?” “Of course not.” Ray grinned.
“That’s what the ram is for.
You can also set them on fire, with arrows or pitch…
Remember those boxes you carried?” “Yeah…” Arthur remembered the heavy crates.
“I remember.” “It’s not just pitch, actually,” Ray added after thinking about it.
“It’s a mixture of pitch, oil, and tar.
Light the fuse, throw it onto the deck, and voila.
The Ironborn roast inside their own armor.” He paused.
“Though they don’t use it very often.
You can end up setting your own ship on fire.” He was silent for a moment before leaning closer to the cabin boy.
“Remember the most important thing, lad.
Before boarding, a naval battle is a battle between captains.
So stay behind your shield, listen to your orders, and don’t go playing hero.
Got it?” “Got it,” Arthur replied.
Then he thought of something else.
“Have you fought in naval battles before?” “Big ones?” Ray’s expression became distant.
“Yeah.
A long time ago.
About thirty years ago.” His eyes grew hazy, as though he’d suddenly been pulled back into an old memory.
Only now did Arthur wonder how old the man actually was.
“And…” “Anyway, enough with the chatter!” Ray interrupted.
“Go help Paul if you’ve got nothing better to do.
They’re pulling out a scorpion right now…”