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Locke's Legion

Chapter 2: Ending the Greyjoy Rebellion

Created: 9.11.16, Edited: 12.18.20

Circa 289 AD

Those first few nights on the Iron Islands I was in my groups' tent, sleeping six of us from Lord Manderly's levies that bunked together throughout this campaign. We had marched for over three months from White Harbor of the North through Moat Cailin to Banefort, a West Coast city in the Westerlands that was closest to the Iron Islands, and a few days' horse ride north of Casterly Rock. From there we sailed to various Iron Islands where we engaged in battle with the Greyjoy allies for a few weeks until the final push from King Robert Baratheon and the Warden of the North Lord Eddard Stark came, and with them the Siege of Pyke.

The taking of Botley Castle that first morning after I arrived was as hectic and terrifying as I expected it to be. Our levy was one of the first over the northeast wall, and was almost instantly set upon by a group of Ironborn pricks that just kept on coming as the day progressed. I can't even count the dozens of times my life came inches from ending, but seemingly miraculous saves and dodges kept me fighting to the end with my fellow soldiers.

I had killed countless people, thrown up twice near the beginning after my first kill, and the first time I decapitated someone and got covered in their blood. My skills improved greatly just from fighting so many other people though, and my side only had a minor ache as the day got longer. My body's fatigue though was substantial as the fighting neared an end, and I could tell that Donnel was not even half as physically fit as I was as Charles, and knew I would have to work on that if I wanted to get better and survive and thrive in this new world.

One of the more memorable moments was when I saw Ser Wylis about to get stabbed by an Ironborn, and tackled the man in his side and took him to the ground. Our little struggle lasted only a moment though, as I dug out my new dagger that Tristifer found for me before the battle, and stabbed the bastard half a dozen times while we rolled on the blood soaked dirt. That seemed to be a turning point, as just after that we were reinforced by another wave of men and routed the remaining Ironborn fighters from that part of the castle.

At the end of that day, the Castle was ours and most of the fighters celebrated in the night. A few of us still standing and not injured, looted the dead and pilfered any valuables we found at the castle, including several wineskins. Any true valuables of the castle itself had to be collected and left for the entire army spoils of war for the King to add to their treasury, and we were relegated to simply taking things off the random Ironborn fighters, not any of the lords. The next day when we moved towards Pyke itself, our little group had even more to carry than usual as our spoils of war were gathered in our tent and among our stuff. I had found a really nice metal breastplate that fit me much better than the boiled leather one I was issued upon leaving White Harbor, and I quickly traded up into. I then gave my boiled leather doublet to Raymar whose cheap and lighter armor was ruined in the fighting.

The following day when we reached Pyke, our levy was thankfully in the reserves that entered the seat of House Greyjoy after most of the others had already rampaged their way through. It made for a good few looted spoils, including a really nice dagger that I found a place for in my other boot along with a few coin purses. We only were needed at one point when a barred door behind us was opened and out rushed two dozen Ironborn savages trying to get us from behind.

Luckily, we still had numbers, and a few skilled knights that really turned the tide of the battle in our favor. I was again called on to defend Ser Wylis, as he was one of the best armed in our group and therefore the target of most of the opportunistic Ironborn fighters that tried to ambush us. He ended up taking a mace to his chest, though it was weakened considerably by my sword tearing through the man's neck at his time of impact with the Manderly heir's strong armor. It ended up crashing the larger knight to the ground, with a small dent on the upper left side of the breastplate, and knocking the wind out of the Merman Knight.

But the splash of blood that fell next, almost made the Merman painted on his now dented breastplate impossible to see. The fight ended shortly after that moment, the final of the Ironborn being taken down, and a collective held breath as everyone turned to see their lord, who most had just witnessed being felled by a now headless Ironborn reaver. Ser Wylis' grunt of pain as he sat up covered in the blood of the enemy had all the northern host of Manderly levies let out a relieved sigh at seeing their commander and Heir of White Harbor still alive and relatively unhurt.

Shortly after that moment they heard yells and shouts from up ahead of them, and all turned in time to see four Ironborn cowards running away from a dozen plus charging men from House Umber, which would leave many people with the need to flee. Between the charging Umbers and the wall of Manderlys, the four Ironborn were cut down with ease.

"Come Manderly," shouted a bloodied, huge, and intimidating as hell looking Greatjon Umber, "These Ironborn cunts are finished."

The shout of approval by his fellow bannermen came loud and swift, and we followed the Umber group back from where they came until late in the evening reaching a large throne room with the famous Seastone Chair, where everyone seemed to be gathered. There wasn't enough room, except for the lords and a few squires, but for a moment I could see who could only be Balon Greyjoy on his knees in front of King Robert Baratheon. Ser Wylis gave us all a look, and we all turned around to get out of the way and make sure the rest of the castle was secure, and I nudged Tristifer next to me to help me start looting bodies.

That was one of the surprising things to me, I knew that I would need a lot of money to get anywhere in Westeros. Since my arrival, I had a few invention ideas I hoped to implement, but even all of those needed money to get started. Looting during war was the one area where you really could get rich quick, and since it was expected of everybody to do it, there was nothing really against getting after it yourself. I loved it!

It truly was a society of "to the victor, go the spoils" and "might is right". But it also allowed for someone to be able to get away with anything if they either had enough money or were strong enough with a sword. The whole "trial by combat" mentality was very much in play, and if you were skilled enough or paid the right people you could really cheat the system. So, while in Westeros, I would steal and kill and wouldn't feel too bad about it.

I mean, obviously I wasn't a psychopath and didn't actually enjoy killing people, but I had grown used to seeing it and many worse things over the last few days to the point where I could easily tolerate and witness it without having a gag reflex issue anymore. Plus, it was my duty to obey my liege lords here, and any objections I may have had would more likely get ME killed, so I adapted pretty quickly. The stealing off the dead was even easier, and I could easily justify it to myself as my need being greater than theirs and if someone was already going to steal it, why shouldn't I try to benefit.

Now, several hours later the entire camp was celebrating the final decisive victory over Balon Greyjoy and the Iron Islanders, looting the dead, dividing up spoils of war, drinking heavily, and generally causing all kinds of noise and mayhem. We were just told by Ser Wylis, who led all the now just under 2,000 men from White Harbor and the smaller surrounding houses, that we would all be packing up tomorrow and starting to head towards Lannisport for the Tourney Lord Lannister and King Robert were throwing. After that it would be back to Riverrun with the rest of the troops from the North, the Eyrie, the Riverlands, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands. The Westernlanders would return to their local homes or head south to Lannisport first, and the Reach troops that weren't staying for the tourney were scheduling shipping down the coast with the remains of their fleets and the spoils they were claiming of the seized ships from the Ironborn.

Ser Wylis Manderly, was a large man in his mid-thirties, the heir of White Harbor and oldest trueborn son of Lord Wyman Manderly. He was a man built for war in this era, large and strong, very intimidating to most of the smallfolk and men between 15 and 50. Donnel had been his squire for the last almost seven years, and looked to the man as a second father and teacher. He was a good man, who took his duties as Donnel's teacher seriously though had never pushed me to be a better fighter as Donnel favored books over arms before our merge, and Ser Wylis certainly knew his own way around a battlefield. At the beginning of this campaign, he had told Donnel that he was a man now and that he would bring a younger squire to fulfil those duties, leaving Donnel free to fight amongst the other men-at-arms or levies.

Ser Wylis was in charge of the bulk of the Manderly forces, so Donnel as his former squire was privileged to a lot of the details others didn't get and had put me inside the War Council Tent on several occasions over the previous few weeks minus the last few days since my injury. Likewise I had a pretty good idea who everyone of the bigger players was, and with my previous knowledge knew what they had wanted to get out of this war to put down a Rebellion. Ser Wylis wanted to be remembered as a great warrior, and return home to his young wife and kids with plenty of good stories and memories of fighting Ironborn scum alongside his younger brother Wendel, who was an adequate second in command.

King Robert Baratheon wanted to just fight, anything and anywhere. He didn't seem happy unless he had his warhammer in hand and plenty of wineskins to drink. He was also miserable in King's Landing ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this war was the first time since becoming king that he was truly happy. His plans for the celebratory tourney at Lannisport were partly influenced by his desire to keep fighting and drinking, and not returning quickly to the capital. He was also a large man, well over six and a half feet tall and even with his gut slowly growing larger, was still a powerful man that dwarfed the actor, Mark Addy that played him in the TV show.

Lord Eddard Stark wanted to just return to his home in the North, and be with his wife and kids. He couldn't wait for this campaign to end and was eager to push his levies to expedite their departure as soon as he could. He did enjoy his time with his best friend and brother in all but blood, but even he could see that his King was not exactly happy ruling. It was also here reviewing the scenes of meeting the larger players that I realized I wasn't exactly in the TV show, as Lord Eddard looked a lot like the actor Sean Bean, but it definitely wasn't him exactly.

Lord Tywin Lannister wanted revenge against the Ironborns, for sacking his port city of Lannisport to ignite this conflict and to appease the slight to his honor he felt they made towards him. He truly was a ruthless man, who wanted nothing more than to utterly destroy and impoverish the Greyjoys and all Ironlanders. The few times Donnel had to interact with the man left him running away, now at least he understood just how ruthless the man truly was, though he wasn't nearly as handsome as the actor Charles Dance, he was still a good looking older man.

Lord Hoster Tully and his younger brother Ser Brendyn Tully, the Blackfish were both just glad this war didn't affect their Riverlands as most wars within the kingdom destroy their lands. Lord Hoster though had been injured at some point and had just wanted to return home. His brazen younger brother was happiest at war and planning battles, something he greatly excelled at according to everyone around.

Lord Randyll Tarly, who commanded the Reach troops while his Liege Lord Mace Tyrell played politics and looked like an overstuffed peacock most of the time, wanted to bleed the ironborn of every resource he could. He too was a brilliant strategic mind, and utterly ruthless to his enemies. He was actually very similar in temperament to Lord Tywin Lannister, though a bit younger. Lord Mace Tyrell wanted to just continue to hear himself talk, as the man could go on at length on any and pretty much every subject if you let him, and wasn't nearly as foolish looking as the actor who played him.

Lord Yohn Royce led the Vale troops since Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King remained behind in King's Landing to rule in Robert's sted, with Ser Denys Arryn, and Lord Royce's sons Andar, Robar, and Waymar Royce, helping the older man. Ser Denys, Andar, and Robar were pretty badass as far as Donnel thought, and he had exchanged a few words with all of them and considered them acquaintances having fought beside them in their raids of the smaller islands and holdfasts over the last few weeks.

Most of the rest were minor Lords and Sers trying to get their own slice of the pie before leaving to return to their homes, though some were trying to get reparations for past damages the Ironborn had done on their lands and coasts. Some had legitimate concerns, and brought them before the king who heard grievances before everyone finished packing up the next day. It made me wonder though, if I was in the book version of the story, or a completely different one because of my arrival, and realized that without having read the books, my future knowledge was spotty at best and outright wrong at worst, as I couldn't truly rely on anything I knew from the TV show.

With this came a whole host of problems though, as without any foreknowledge of the series itself, and the major timeline, I wouldn't be able to affect things on such an exact scale or specific details. I had to simply hope that I had a basic timeframe of peace for the next few years until the next major event that dragged the Realm into war, whether it is Robert's death, or the War of the Five Kings, or the Long Night, there was pretty much a guarantee that war was in the future of Westeros. If I wanted to survive and thrive within it, I would need to really start growing my skills and resources to unheard of levels if I didn't want to just settle as being a meat shield for someone else's story.

Luckily, my injured ribs were only moderately sore from the continued activity, but I still managed to pull my weight with the rest of my tent comrades. Our little group consisted of myself the only minor noble, and some younger smallfolk from around White Harbor Tristifer Greenhands, Raymar Snow, Delfyr Mo, Branden Jolse, and Davyd Belltmore, who had been together throughout this campaign, and had done really well for ourselves. These past few months had really brought the six of us together, as we lived and marched and fought with each other.

We looked out for each other, as we were all between 16 and 19 years old, with Tristifer the oldest and Davyd the youngest. And by looking out for each other, we also managed to all survive an ambush several days before landing at Pyke, that killed several of our fellow Manderly levies as we followed in the rear guard and slaughtered the several dozen Ironborn Raiders that ambushed us. While the loss of almost four dozen of our own soldiers was hard to take, we had no problem collecting spoils from that ambush, and each of the six young men had a small cache of money, jewels, weapons, and gear that we pilfered off the encountered dead that only grew by the end of the fighting.

As everyone in the levies was packing up their tents and supplies and loading them onto several barges and ships that would be taking everyone back to Banefort and mainland Westeros, there was quite the business of trading going on among the thousands of soldiers. With so many soldiers, and stolen goods aplenty, one could find almost anything to trade for or a buyer to sell things to.

I kept the iron breastplate I had worn for the last battle, the nice castle forged dagger I found, the best arm bracers of the lot, and a pair of nice leather boots along with all the money and the two best wineskins I had recovered. I had plans that would require it all again soon if everything worked out. The rest of my pilfered prizes I sold off to anyone willing to buy, knowing I would need the money more than a pair of backup daggers, three extra swords, an old mace I couldn't use, various pieces of armor, or rings and other jewelry I would never wear.

When all was said and done, I had gathered just under two hundred gold dragons which was more money than Donnel had ever seen outside of his family's small vault room. Even then, two hundred gold dragons was enough to buy a small holdfast in the North, or a high quality custom weapon or armor, or even passage to Essos twenty times over and still have money left to spend. The amount was pretty substantial for a 17 year old minor noble in Westeros, and probably about a tenth of what my own family had in their treasury at any given time as they were not among the wealthiest of families nor were they among the poorest.

The trip by barge back across the bay to Banefort took most of the day, as the barge was heavily loaded down and not a fast moving vessel anyway. By the time they docked, there was already a camp being set up by those who had already arrived, and they quickly got back to the relative normalcy of an army on the march. After four plus months of this, it was pretty standard operating procedure to set up camp and tents, grab food and orders for the night, and rest up for another day of marching.

Ser Wylis was in good spirits, probably a bit drunk when we finally saw him for our orders that first night after returning to Banefort, but also glad to have survived and soon be returning home to his young family. He gave me a strong nod of approval when he saw me in the nicer iron breastplate, either for my show of vigilance and preparedness or having saved his life a few times near the end of the fighting. The Knight told us we were on guard duty for our Manderly camp section for the first shift of the night, and which tent had the second shift so we could swap out with them in the middle of the night.

I wasn't too surprised that we were keeping to the normal guard schedules for our little section of the camp, as Ser Wylis was pretty strict about duty, and also didn't completely trust a lot of the levies of the neighboring families. Probably trusted them even less now that the fighting was over, and celebrating was going to be greatly increased in intensity and frequency. Plus, there were a lot of different families here that had history and grudges against one another that had lasted generations or more, and a lot of valuables throughout the camps.

We had done several such guard rotations at least twice a week since we began the march out of White Harbor over almost four months ago now, and we're quite used to the routine. With well practiced ease, we returned to our tent to plan out our patrols with our small group. Our tent had just six men, most of the tents were bigger and held between 8 and 16 and there were over two hundred of them under the Manderly banners. Luckily, they had a pretty standard and ordered way to the overall setup of these army camps, and within their house camp they also set up their camp in the same basic square pattern every time.

All this meant that they knew where most of their fellow Manderly soldiers were, especially the troublemakers, and which house camps were going to be on their various sides. They were luckily covered on three of their sides by families of the North, so at least they didn't have to worry about theft from those sides. House Dustin and House Hornwood, our neighbors in camp and at home along with House Reed who always seemed to keep to themselves and behaved well. The main problem was always the Freys of the RIverlands who were on our final side, and a constant source of headache for anyone that had to patrol.

Even before our consciousness merged, Donnel didn't trust the Freys, and thought them opportunistic weasels, something that I wholeheartedly agreed to after knowing what I did about the Red Wedding. We had actually met a few decent ones, but they were much fewer and further between than most other families. With that family's levies, you just never knew what they were going to do, and I wasn't going to take any chances with them around.

We had several small and internal fights among the soldiers to interrupt, as the men all drank heavily with the war now over, and spirits and passions were high as they told boastful stories, took offense easily, and antagonized others. Thankfully, there were only two altercations outside of our house camp, and of course they both occurred with the Frey camp next to us. One, a fight that broke out over some drunken slurs that nobody owned up to starting, and the other a Frey thief Raymar and Davyd caught sneaking out of one of the Manderly tents with his arms full of stolen money and treasures.

The thief, a young reedy thin pimple-faced boy of probably 16 named Wyldr Rivers, was a bastard of some Frey, and as protocol demanded was first taken to Ser Wylis who was in charge of our camp and had the boy tied up. Ser Wylis then had to take the case to Lords Stark and Tully as the liege lords to both families, where a decision was made of the thief's future. The thief was offered two options, losing his sword hand or taking the black, as Lord Eddard was not one to tolerate thieves, and Tully wasn't a big fan of the Freys to stick up for him and offer any other options.

It seemed a pretty harsh punishment as most of the goods stolen were in fact pilfered (read: stolen) from the dead bodies of the defeated Ironborns or fellow soldiers. But stealing from the living was frowned upon greatly in the North where honor was held in such high regards, and especially when we were all supposed to be on the same side. The boy decided on taking the black, knowing without his sword hand he would be useless and left to fend for himself in a family that had so little consideration for others, and was led to the prisoner pens.

Raymar and Davyd were both treated as heroes by the men who almost lost all their loot, and were gifted wineskins and stories galore interspersed between thankful gestures and words. The group consisted of relatively poor smallfolk farmers, who were in their forties, and conscripted to the Manderly levies as most smallfolk men were. They were beyond grateful to the two boys that saved the greatest payout any of them had ever seen let alone possessed themselves.

The next few days passed relatively normally, with daily marches south toward Casterly Rock, the seat of House Lannister along the western coast of the Westerlands. The nights were spent in revelry and drinking as everyone enjoyed the end of the war, and made for some slow starts the next day. It took more than two weeks, as the large host slowly trudged and camped our way to the Rock, where the lords were given rest inside the keep of Casterly Rock, while the rest of us camped outside of Lannisport in the rain.

Luckily, with so many lords, knights, and squires already part of the army and the two week head start from the march, there wasn't a long wait until the tournament was up and running. The march also gave me plenty of time to think and plan, regain my strength from my injured ribs, and continue practicing my growing sword skills with anyone that wanted to. Most were completely content with just partying and going through the motions until they returned home, but there were always a few who wanted to unwind after a long day of marching and train in the makeshift training yards where I spent most of my time.

Within a week of arriving at Lannisport, the Tournament began with the early rounds of the joust, and the archery competition. In preparation of the upcoming melee, I convinced Tristifer, Raymar, and Davyd to spar with me as often as we could on top of the other training I was doing, and by the time it began I felt even more comfortable in my growing sword skills. Unfortunately, that skill still didn't translate well to fighting significantly better opponents and despite not having a bad showing, I was taken out midway through by Thoros of Myr and his flaming sword.

Either way, the practice and experience were good for me, and the fact that I wasn't too injured afterwards was also a bonus. My speed and stamina were really starting to get better with all the work I was putting into training my body and sword, but I still had a long way to go to be considered an even good fighter let alone an elite one. Not at all discouraged by my showing, instead I studied the other fighters, and practiced as often as I could, and simply enjoyed the tournament and the festival type atmosphere, though with a lot less drinking than my fellow soldiers and friends.

While at Lannisport in my spare time, I did some scouting and eventually was able to catch up to one drunken Tyrion Lannister at a pub, where I watched him drink several men under the table with no issues at all. I wasn't foolish enough to challenge him or engage in too much of a conversation, but I did make it a point to introduce myself and meet him. Even purchasing us a round of drinks, and sitting with him for several minutes as he entertained a pretty wench though I made sure to not interfere or overstay my welcome as I really just wanted to meet him personally.

During this time I also began filling a journal I purchased with many thoughts and ideas, including a basic timeline of events I remembered from the TV show while I could still remember them, and also several of the invention ideas I had. I also started planning on how to develop these ideas, and introduce them to Westeros, while subtly asking around to see if any of them had already been introduced. Some of the local farmers of the North helped me understand their needs and practices, while I also spent a good deal of time in the markets of Lannisport to see what was available and how much things cost to be better prepared.

Back at the tournament, Thoros had won the melee unsurprisingly, and Jorah Mormont won the joust, capping an eventful couple of weeks for the two battle tested warriors who were among the first through the doors at the Siege of Pyke. Both men were knighted by the King himself at the close of the tournament, and Jorah even returned with the hand of Lynesse Hightower promised to him in marriage. They were married before the army left the city of Lannisport, and the new Lady of Bear Island travelled in a wheelhouse alongside her new husband as the army made its way east towards Riverrun.

With the tournament finally over almost a month after they arrived in Lannisport, the remaining army packed up their camp, and began the long trek back. Starting with heading east along the River Road towards the Golden Tooth, the Seat of House Lefford. It was just under two weeks of marching to reach the castle that protected the River Road, and lied at almost the midpoint between the Seats of Lannisters at Casterly Rock and the Tullys at Riverrun. Lord Leo Lefford housed the lords for one night in his keep as the army camped outside, before pushing on in the morning towards Riverrun.

The trip from the Golden Tooth to Riverrun took almost two weeks of slow marching, the pace considerably slower than on the way to war, now that most of the soldiers and lords were hungover every morning and slow to get moving or motivated. It was an interesting mix, with the King trying to slow everyone down since he didn't want the war or the celebration to end, while Lord Stark pushed to get everyone going faster since he wanted to return home. It quickly became clear that the King's way was winning, as our pace was steadily reduced as we neared Riverrun, and I expected once the Northern host separated from the rest, the pace would probably double.

I was quickly growing in sword skills, but was still by no means a master, but had now surpassed all my friends, and only Tristifer would still spar with me as he enjoyed fighting a lot more than anything else. He often talked about how miserable it would be to return to his father's farm after seeing and experiencing more of the world, and it made me realize that I had an opportunity here to gather a few like minded young men for some of my own plans. I thought a lot during our daily marches, putting my thoughts and plans in order, and spent many evenings furiously writing out plans and ideas I came up with, eager to change the game and knew I would need some good people I trusted around me.