From Westeros to Essos : The Crusader King

Denys Drumm, the eldest son of Lord Dustan Drumm of Old Wyk, was put in command of over a hundred ships and over six thousand eager Ironborn reavers. King Balon Greyjoy, The King of Salt and Stone and rightful ruler of the Iron Islands had ordered Denys's house to take over the Gulltown in the Vale and from there the whole Vale.

He was not as dumb as the other iron Lords believed he was, after all only a fool or a Greyjoy would even dare to think they would be able to conquer an entire kingdom with not even a third of the men that said kingdom could raise. However, Gulltown was another story. His King's command was sacred for Denys and so, Gulltown would be razed in salt and water. No one would become a slave or a salt wife... not this time. Now it was the time to give the six kingdoms a lesson one written in salt!

"Admiral Drumm!" One of his men approached him just as the fleet anchored in the port.

"Speak up, what did our scouts find?"

"My Lord, every building near the port is… abandoned… our ships along the coasts, they found no trace of the of the enemy fleet either, other than a few old and broken fishing boats."

Hearing that, Denys grunted, clenching his fist. "Bloody cowards! Where the fuck have those honor fuckers gone? There's no way they could have escaped without leaving a clue behind?"

None of his men had the guts to tell their admiral that, unlike an island, Gulltown had its entrance inland, meaning that they could have simply just left deeper inland. They knew that Denys was a proud and stubborn man, who hated to admit his mistakes or ignorance. And like most lesser men, they feared his wrath, for he was known to be harsh and cruel to those who displeased him. He had once flayed a man alive for spilling wine on his cloak and had thrown another overboard for not laughing at his jokes. Because of those reasons alone, none of them want to be the ones to tell him that they should actually search the town.

"Admiral Drumm, perhaps we should send some men to scout the town, and see if there is anything worth taking," one of his captains suggested, trying to sound respectful while in reality he was trembling.

"Scout the town? What for? There is nothing here but dust and rats. The cowards have fled, leaving behind their worthless possessions. We should burn this place to the ground, and let them know that the ironborn have come!" Denys snapped, his eyes blazing with anger as his hand rested on his Valyrian sword.

"But, my lord, maybe there are some clues as to where they have gone or some hidden treasures that they could not take with them. Maybe we can find some food or water, or some women to warm our beds," the captain persisted, hoping to appeal to his admiral's greed.

"Enough! I will not waste any more time on this pathetic excuse for a town. We came here to fight, not to scavenge. We will sail to the next port, and find some real enemies to face. Maybe then we can show them the true meaning of the iron price!" Denys declared, dismissing the captain's words.

Though before the captain could even gulp out in relief that he was still alive, a flaming bolt, twice as long as a man flew from somewhere behind them hitting the middle of one of their ships. Panic spread out amongst the five thousand men as one of their ships, alongside whatever crew it had, was burning in the middle of their fleet. The flaming bolt had pierced through the hull, igniting the sails and the wooden planks. The screams of the dying men could be heard over the crackling of the fire. The other ships tried to escape the inferno, but the wind and the tide were against them.

"Storm the walls! We have to take the city!" Against all of his instincts, the future lord of Old Wyk decided to land his troops on shore and take the city, after all holding onto a walled settlement would be easier than fighting while sitting ducks.

"I have to say, Lord Andar that your plan worked marvelously. Those Ironborn scum are fleeing." Lord Gerold Grafton laughed when he saw the burning ships down in the port.

"Lord Grafton, with all due respect, the battle is far from being won. Drumm and his men would attack the walls one way or another. Otherwise, he wouldn't have brought his entire fleet here."

"But… but don't we have those Essosi friends of yours and my fleet keeping them from fleeing back into the sea?"

Hearing the man's words, Andar fought back the urge to sigh. Lord Grafton was a decent commander and maybe even a good admiral, but his nephew's fleet was not made for fighting the Ironborn who love getting close and personal.

"My lord, my nephew, and your future Lord Paramount's fleet is made to hunt pirates not to fight Ironborn reavers. They can hold their ground for a while, but I'm more than sure that other than my nephew's men, none of the other sailors would last more than a few minutes in an open sea battle."

Just as Lord Grafton was about to speak, the whole wall shook, almost as if it was hit by something heavy. Both Andar and Lord Grafton, alongside all of the knights from House Royce and House Grafton, rushed towards the edge of the wall only to see a medium-sized boulder falling from the wall, making Andar realize that mayhaps Denys Drumm was not as dumb as he thought the man was. The Ironborn had somehow managed to bring a catapult on shore from one of their ships and were using it to bombard the wall with rocks and debris.

"Seven hells, they have a catapult!" Lord Grafton exclaimed, his face turning pale. "How did they manage to do that?"

"I don't know, my lord, but we have to stop them before they breach the wall," Andar said in a calm voice. Years of fighting in Essos against assassins, thugs, and slavers turned the young lord into a veteran, and right now, he knew that losing his nerve would only make things worse. "Send a raven to our ships, tell them to focus their scorpions on the catapult. We have to destroy it before it destroys us."

"Yes, yes, of course." Lord Grafton nodded and quickly ordered one of his men to send the message. He then turned to Andar. "What about the men on the wall? Should we evacuate them?"

"No, we need them to hold the line. The Ironborn will try to scale the wall with ladders and ropes, and we have to repel them. Tell the men to brace themselves and fight, to death if needs be. We have the walls to our advantage, and by the Seven, I don't plan to lose them to some reavers. We will not let these savages take our city."

Before he could even take a full look around the shore, a knight with blood dripping out of his helmet ran towards them.

"My lords! The lef…" Sadly the man was hit by an arrow before he could even finish his sentence, but that was enough for Andar to leave Lord Grafton in charge of this portion of the wall while he and his men run towards the left side of the wall.

When they reached the left side, the fight for the wall had already started, but what made Andar freeze for a second was the hill that rose up before him, after all, it was not a natural one. Taking a closer look down at the base, the first thing that Andar saw were the bodies of both Ironborn and the men of House Grafton used to create a human hill for the reavers to climb. Once again, Drumm surprised Andar, but this will not last for long.

"Men! We'll make our stand here. Crossbows, I want you lying up top."

The men nodded and staggered to the edge of the wall, ready to shoot down at anything resembling an Ironborn. And yet, almost all of the crossbowmen seemed almost relieved that their lord ordered them slightly away from the fray, though they knew their death was but minutes away if their lord were to fall.

Andar eyed one of the few surviving knights of House Grafton that came towards him once he saw the reinforcements. He'd taken an arrow in his left shoulder and the blood still flowed profusely down the front of his breastplate. How he had stayed on his feet was beyond Andar's understanding.

"My lord, I'll stand beside you," he said, shifting his grip on the sword in his right hand.

Andar unsheathed his own longsword and fixed his attention northward. A few brave Ironborns were carrying ladders towards their right side, most likely hoping to attack them from behind.

"We're being flanked," He called out to his crossbowman. "Kill the bloody idiots."

A second later he heard the crossbowmen release a quarrel. As he spun back to the men carrying ladders there came a scream of pain from down on the shore. The wounded knight beside him seemed to have forgotten his wound, as he grabbed Andar's shoulder and dragged him back from the edge of the wall.

"No point watching savages die, my lord. My boys need help retaking the wall."

It didn't take long for Andar and his men to reach the thick of the battle, and as soon as they did, an Ironborn reaver charged at them. One of the men-at-arms dropped away to his left hoping to dodge the spear coming at him, but not enough to avoid it as it pierced into his right thigh. It struck with such force as to drive right through his leg and embed itself in the earth. The man was pinned, but his only response was a soft gasp, and he raised his sword to parry an ax swinging at his head.

In this time Andar had already closed with the Ironborn rushing at him. Like most of them, his target was using a shorter axe made for naval battle, and because of that, Andar took advantage of this with a thrust before he came into his range. The Ironborn brought a shield up to parry, but the future lord Royce had already twisted his body under the axe before burring his sword point in the man's chest, slicing the leather armor as if it were butter.

As the reaver fell down, Andar felt himself being dragged down by the body. He tried to pull his sword out, but it was stuck in the man's ribs and almost as if he could feel the impending doom, he looked up only to see another Ironborn coming to strike him as he was in a very vulnerable state. Even if he were to get his hand from the sword it was already too late and the only thing he could was to prepare for death.

But the strike never came. Instead, he heard a loud clang of metal and a grunt of pain. When he opened his eyes and saw one of the knights loyal to House Royce standing over him, blocking the reaver's axe with his shield. The knight had a blue and white surcoat with a bronze rune on his chest, the sigil of House Royce. The knight, Ser Olyvar, was probably as old as his father, and yet he fought better than most young knights these days.

"Get up, lad!" Ser Olyvar shouted, cutting the reaver's head off with his sword. "This is no place to die!"

Andar nodded, grateful for the old knight's help. Grunting, he grabbed the knight's hand and got to his feet before he looked down at his sword still embedded in the dead reaver's chest. When he reached for it, Ser Olyvar shook his head.

"Leave it, lad. You'll find another one as we don't have time to cut a dead Ironborn open right now. Come on, we have to get to the wall. The savages are breaking through."

By the time they managed to push the Ironborn back on the small hill of bodies, hundreds of men from both sides lay dead on the wall for nothing more than a mad desire of Lord Drumm. Speaking about Denys Drumm, the man was still alive fighting and cutting through the knights and men-at-arms like they were nothing thanks to his stolen Valyrian sword.

Just as Andar pushed another Ironborn from the wall down to his death, he saw the mad look on the Reaver Lord as he was rushing towards him. Before either Andar or Denys could slash at each other, Ser Olyvar tried to cut the Reaver Lord from behind, only for Denys to dodge and cut right through the old knight's sword, sending the old man to the ground. With an ugly wound on his arm. And yet, somehow, he still lived, though he had been wounded. By some miracle, Olyvar managed to drag the Valyrian sword out of his arm, but the wound remained and so did Denys Drumm who by now was madly smiling at the wounded knight.

Andar rushed to engage the reaver lord, but even as he did so, the valyrian sword slipped past the soldier's guard and struck him across the chest. The chain-mail snapped as the sword edge ripped through armor and Ser Olyvar groaned as he fell on his back, blood spraying onto the ground.

Once again, Andar was in no position to defend him and could only watch in horror as Ser Olyvar raised on one knew just as the sword swung again, this time striking the man in the head. The helmet alongside the head inside flew before it toppled sideways, landing at Andar's feet.

A curse broke from his lips as charged right into the Reaver lord in front of him. He tried to bring the point of his sword up behind him but despite being in his late thirties, Denys managed to easily twist out of the sword's way. Which only made Andar take a wild swing at him, only for Denys Drumm to swing his leg forcing Andar to lose his balance. For a second Andar saw the sky before he felt his shoulder dislocate as he hit the stone ground, while his sword dropped from his numbed and useless hand.

'A sweet and quick death, huh?' That's what the young lord thought as he saw the mad-looking Drumm walking towards him.

A second later, Denys stopped right in front of Andar and looked down at him with a cruel smile as he raised his Valyrian sword and pointed it at Andar's throat.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? The heir of House Royce, lying on the ground like a worm. How does it feel, boy? How does it feel to know that you are about to die by my hand?"

"Go ahead and kill me, you bastard. You won't live to see the end of this day. My men will avenge me and your head will be on a spike."

A harsh and mocking laugh escaped from Drumm's mouth as he looked down at Yohn's eldest son.

"Your men? Do you mean the ones who are dying all around you? Let me spell it for you boy."

He leaned closer to Andar and whispered in his ear.

"You know what you have? You have me. And I'm going to make you suffer. "

But that was all Andar needed. As soon as Denys was close enough to whisper those words, Andar turned his head and bit as hard as he could on the soft neck of the future lord Drumm. Andar felt Denys's blood gush into his mouth as he bit down on his throat. At first, he didn't hear the reaver lord scream, but when he did, Andar did not let go, and instead, he clamped his teeth harder, tearing deeper into the soft flesh. In a desperate attempt, Denys raised his hands and tried clawing at his face, hoping to pry him off, but Andar ignored the pain. He knew this was his only chance, his only way to kill the man leading the Ironborn and ending this bloody battle.

He grabbed Denys by the waist and rolled over, using his weight and momentum to push him towards the edge of the wall falling down to the ground amongst bodies and rocks. But Andar did not care, he only wanted to take Denys with him as Drumm struggled and kicked, but he held on, determined to end his life.

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