The last supper before a fleet sailed was never a good one, especially when battle was all but guaranteed.
Davos had learned that much.
Men either talked too much or not at all, and there was little left to say that had not already been said.
Yet the four of them sat around a small table—newly knighted Ser Davos, Lord Monford Velaryon, Maester Cressen, and Arthor Waters.
“All preparations are finished, Davos?” Monford asked.
“I hope my men did not trouble you. If any of them showed arrogance or disrespect, I would not mind you drilling some discipline into them.”
Davos smiled.
“There was no need, my lord. Once they learned you had knighted me yourself, they became more accommodating. They will only truly respect my command once I have proven myself worthy of it in the sea, but I have spent my whole life among sailors. They are rough men, yet once they trust your skill, they follow quickly enough.”
Monford laughed and nodded.
“I do not think there will be any trouble,” Arthor added.
“There is a reason Ser Davos commands Lord Alric’s personal company at sea, and that company is filled with the roughest men I have ever met. Former pirates, smugglers, mercenaries, and even a few knights here and there.” He raised his cup.
“A strange collection of men.”
“Strange is a polite word for them,” Davos said.
The three of them laughed and drank.
Cressen only shook his head.
“That is true,” Monford said.
“From everything I have observed, Lord Alric keeps impressive men around him.”
Davos slowly turned his cup upon the table.
“Speaking of that, What about Ser Kenneth.”
The amusement faded from Monford’s face.
“I have heard the name from Lord Alric and from other men,” Davos continued.
“I have never met him, but Alric often speaks of him pleasantly. They seem close.”
He looked between them.
“So, what sort of man is he?”
Monford did not look comfortable with the question.
Arthor set down his cup.
“You truly do not know?”
“No.” Davos said seriously
“There cannot be many men in the Crownlands who have not heard of him. I grew up on Claw Isle listening to stories about what he did during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Though Afterward, he disappeared from public view. No tourneys, no grand duels, nothing of that sort.”
“He went with Lord Alric to King’s Landing,” Cressen said with some bitterness.
“He was the only man to go with him.”
Monford placed his own cup down.
“You did not see the Greyjoy Rebellion, ser?”
Davos shook his head.
“I was a smuggler. When the ironborn rebelled, I moved most of my business across the Narrow Sea. That was where I met Lord Alric.”
“There is no shame in surviving,” Monford said.
“Though it explains why you do not know the name.”
He stared into his wine for a moment.
“When Lord Stannis died in the naval battle, our fleet should have broken. Our commander was dead, our order was gone, and we had already been pushed back. Defeat should have followed. It was nothing but inevitable”
His voice had grown quieter.
“But it did not. Ser Kenneth had been captain of Lord Stannis’s guard. He took command of what remained and refused to retreat. The men who had served directly under Stannis followed him. Then other captains began to do the same, since many of them had been chosen by Stannis himself.”
Monford lifted his cup but did not drink.
“Then Kenneth went mad.”
Davos leaned forward slightly.
“For six weeks he hunted the ironborn. He followed no order from the royal fleet and waited for no permission. He killed them, burned their ships, sank their vessels, and slaughtered the men who survived the wrecks. He gave them no time to rest because he did not rest himself.”
“The greatest thing he did was kill Victarion Greyjoy,” Cressen said quietly.
“Balon Greyjoy’s brother and one of the finest commanders in the Iron Fleet. Ser Kenneth killed him while avenging Lord Stannis.”
“He struck perhaps the greatest blow of that war,” Monford agreed.
“The songs cannot properly describe what happened. For a time, he forced much of the royal fleet to follow his command simply because no one else could stop him.”
Lord Monford with a lot thoughts and words in his mind spoke.
“He is one bloodthirsty man, perhaps more than any sane man ought to be. But he is loyal. There is no denying that. He is a good man for Lord Alric and doing his service.”
“A good man? I don’t think so.”
Arthor looked toward him.
“You do not like him?”
Cressen sighed.
“It is more complicated than that. Ser Kenneth is extremely loyal to House Baratheon of Dragonstone and Lord Alric . He would sacrifice his own life for Lord Alric without hesitation. He would take a thousand others just as easily, without stopping to consider morality or consequence.”
He pushed his untouched food away.
“But he has been a disaster for Alric. His influence is one reason the boy is so quick to answer every insult with violence.”
Cressen gestured toward the castle around them.
“You were all in that chamber. You saw Alric crush a bottle in his own hand. Where do you think ‘sunset over House Sunglass’ came from?”
“He is not wrong to be angry, Maester,” Davos said.
“No, he is not.” Cressen suddenly looked very old.
“I only wish he would choose less dangerous roads. I want some peace in his life. He was orphaned at eight namedays, sent to a city he had never seen, and—”
He stopped himself and shook his head.
“Forget it. We should speak of your departure. You sail tomorrow.”
“Aye,” Davos said.
“And I need to prepare myself and my men for a battlefield awaits us at Claw Isle.”
They drank after that, but the earlier amusement did not return.
Davos and Arthor sailed with the morning tide.
The ships left Dragonstone one after another, carrying men, food, weapons, and enough water for a long blockade.
Cressen watched from the harbor until the last sail disappeared.
Their orders were simple.
Nothing entered the waters of Claw Isle.
Nothing left them.
Alric’s fleet left Sharp Point beneath the cover of darkness.
Five hundred men had been sent back to Dragonstone before the fleet departed.
Some would reinforce the castle.
The rest would join Davos’s blockade, where more men and ships might soon be needed.
The remaining force sailed toward Sweetport Sound.
Little torches burned aboard the galleys.
The oars had been wrapped to soften their movement, and the men spoke only in whispers.
Alric stood near the prow in black plate.
His new personal sigil—a winged stag—had been etched across the breastplate.
The helm was shaped like the head of a stag, with black antlers rising from it.
It reminded him of the helm Robert had worn during the rebellion, though Alric’s had been made darker and sharper.
It is mainly designed to camouflage himself in the night.
He had one in silver also.
He held it beneath one arm.
“Was all this armor necessary?” he asked.
“This is a battle of speed. The weight will only slow me down.” Alric said in dissatisfaction.
Kenneth shook his head.
“Of course it is necessary, my lord. Your safety is our first concern.”
“I can move faster without it.”
“You do not need to capture the gates yourself,My Lord. You have men for that.”
Alric clicked his tongue and pulled the helm over his head.
Kenneth ignored his annoyance.
“They will see us before we reach the harbor. Our fleet is too large to remain hidden once we draw close. They will gather whatever men they have and meet us on the quay.”
“Oh that’s Good. I have been waiting for this for years” Alric said in excitement.
Alric tightened his grip around his warhammer.
Ser Kenneth “I know My Lord, that’s why you sent me here and Here I brought you some of the best men to do your bidding. So no one dares mess with you ” he said with a smile.
Ahead of them, Sweetport Sound slept.
The castle stood dark upon its hill while the harbor stretched below it.
A few lamps still burned beside the warehouses and along the stone quay.
A second bell answered it.
“They have seen us,” Kenneth said.
Men began moving along the harbor.
At first there were only a few, carrying lanterns and calling into the darkness.
Then more appeared.
Guards spilled out from the gatehouse, some only half-armored.
A few knights pushed their way toward the front while others shouted for men to wake the castle.
Horns began to sound.
“Too late for them ,” Alric said with excitement.
The first galleys struck the harbor hard.
Wood cracked against stone.
Gangplanks fell, and Alric’s soldiers rushed across before the ships had properly stopped moving.
The defenders tried to form ranks, but there was no time.
Some carried spears.
Others held axes, swords, or whatever weapons had been close when the bells began.
More men were still running down from the town.
Alric jumped from the galley and landed heavily upon the quay.
Kenneth came down beside him, followed by Duran and the first wave of soldiers.
Across from them, several hundred Sunglass men gathered near the harbor gate.
Their lines were weak and uneven, but they had not fled.
Knights pushed to the front.
Kenneth stepped ahead of Alric and raised his sword.
“HEAR ME!”
His voice carried across the harbor.
“WE ARE THE MEN OF HOUSE BARATHEON OF DRAGONSTONE, AND HERE STANDS LORD ALRIC BARATHEON, YOUR LIEGE LORD!”
The Sunglass men shifted uneasily.
“HE HAS COME TO PUNISH THE TRAITOR WHO ROBBED HIS HOUSE, BETRAYED HIS OATH, AND MOCKED THE AUTHORITY OF HOUSE BARATHEON!”
Kenneth pointed his sword at them.
“I WILL SAY THIS ONCE. THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER. ANY MAN WHO DOES SO WILL BE SPARED.”
His voice hardened.
“ANY MAN STILL HOLDING STEEL WHEN WE ADVANCE WILL BE GIVEN NO MERCY.”
Silence held the harbor for a moment.
Then one of the knights stepped forward.
He wore mail beneath a pale surcoat marked with the seven-pointed star of House Sunglass.
His sword was drawn, though his grip was not steady.
“THIS IS THE LAND OF HOUSE SUNGLASS!” he shouted.
“WE COMMAND YOU TO RETURN TO YOUR SHIPS! IF YOU ADVANCE, WE WILL ATTACK!”
Kenneth stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Alric joined him.
The defenders had only seen the men already on the quay.
They could not yet see the full fleet stretching into the darkness behind them or the thousands still waiting aboard the ships.
“All right,” Alric said.
“Your choice.”
He lifted his warhammer.
“MEN ATTACK! SHOW NO MERCY!”
The Baratheon line surged forward.
The Sunglass men answered with a ragged shout and charged to meet them.
A Knight who wanted to stop the fight at the Start, made a run towards Alric to slay or injure him in one battle to stop the attack.
He was large, fast, and wearing the armor of a household knight.
He held a longsword, its point aimed at the gap beneath Alric’s raised arm.
He started to move fast towards him confident that he will get glory in this battle
OTHERWISE MINE IS THE FURY