GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

Chapter 608 610: Sea Battle (Part 1)

Many still fought for House Baratheon for various reasons, but none were more loyal than Davos Seaworth.

He was drawn not only by Stannis's unwavering sense of justice, but also because everything he now possessed had been given to him by that man.

Stannis had knighted him, granted him lands, allowed him to abandon his smuggler's boat to wear the Hand of the King's badge, and sit upon the Iron Throne to govern the Seven Kingdoms. What immense honor and favor that was.

Of Davos's seven sons, Dale, Allard, Maric, and Matthos served as captains or first mates in the royal fleet. Devan had been knighted and joined the Kingsguard. The two youngest had been taken as squires, shedding their common birth was only a matter of time. His wife, Marya, lived with him in the Tower of the Hand. Servants and guards attended her whenever she went out, and even great lords addressed her respectfully as "Lady."

All of this had been bestowed by Stannis Baratheon, and the price Davos paid was only a few finger joints. As punishment for his past crimes, it could not have been more just.

If the hereditary nobles of the Crownlands, the Narrow Sea, and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms might merely lose some prestige, a few holdings, and live more modestly after a change of dynasty, he, Davos, founder of House Seaworth, would fall from the heights back into the mud the moment Stannis was defeated. Not only would their current status and his children's promising future vanish, even the modest wealth he had saved from his smuggling days might be lost. Even if he survived by some miracle, he would be left utterly destitute.

That was an outcome he could never accept.

He was willing to die for Stannis, truly.

Partly out of loyalty, and partly because he understood that failure could be more terrifying than death.

Stannis could not personally command the naval battle, as he had to oversee the defense of King's Landing. Thus, Hand of the King Davos took his place. He stood aboard the flagship at the center of the first battle line, nervously observing the situation and listening to reports, analyzing the battlefield with his limited knowledge of naval warfare and the advice of his officers.

The first thing they noticed was that the vanguard of Daenerys's three line formation, the ships facing the royal fleet, all flew both red dragon banners and kraken banners at the same time.

It was exceedingly strange.

After questioning and reflection, Davos understood. This was the detached fleet Euron Greyjoy had once sent to Meereen, intending to bring back a bride with three dragons. For various complicated reasons and the passage of time, that fleet had instead been absorbed into Daenerys's navy. Today she had placed these Ironborn at the very front, making them face the royal fleet rather than Euron's main force. Most likely, she meant to eliminate any danger of them defecting mid battle. Caught between King's Landing and her main fleet, even if these former pirates had thoughts of betrayal, they would have no choice but to fight desperately for survival.

The second discovery came slightly later and carried a suffocating weight.

At first they thought the initial cannon blast signaled the beginning of battle. Only when the thunderous reports sounded again and again did they realize that the Night's Watch had moved the weapons that had shattered the southern forces at the Blackwater Rush onto their warships and were now using them at sea.

In the continuous, though not overly dense, cannon fire, cannonballs striking the sea sent up towering white plumes, while those hitting ships brought constant reports of damage and casualties. These weapons far exceeded the ballistae mounted on the royal fleet in both power and range. Though their accuracy was poor, they still disrupted Davos's original plan of wearing the enemy down at a distance while waiting for the Iron Fleet to join the fight.

Through his spyglass, he saw white smoke rising from several ships at the center of Daenerys's fleet. He also saw the enemy formation almost halt its advance, forming a defensive screen as if to protect the central gunships. They intended to replicate the Blackwater Rush at sea, avoiding direct engagement and relying solely on their new weapons to slowly batter down the royal fleet's morale.

They could not remain under fire.

"Order the fleet, full speed ahead. Flank left and right."

The war horns sounded. Though they could not drown out the cannon fire, they answered it bravely.

Having learned from the Golden Company's previous defeat, Davos dared not engage in cautious maneuvering. He committed everything at once.

Fearing dragon attacks, the ships kept a careful distance, neither too tight nor too loose. To prevent Dragonflame or incendiary weapons from devastating the sails, all ships lowered and furled them. Long oars, as dense as a centipede's legs, extended from both sides and began to row in unison amid shouted commands. Hundreds of men strained against hulls weighing only a little over ten tons.

Beneath the setting sun, the broad formation of the royal fleet suddenly surged forward, enveloping the miniature Iron Fleet that served as Daenerys's vanguard like a great net.

One thousand yards, eight hundred, five hundred. Enduring the booming cannons and the whistling iron balls tearing past their sides and overhead, the royal ships pressed on with all their strength.

They were unfortunate, becoming the first victims in this world to fight a naval battle against ships armed with such weapons. Yet they were fortunate as well. Because of haste and urgency, the enemy had not mass produced these weapons to fully exploit their advantage. Moreover, after hearing of the rout at the Blackwater Rush, they were mentally prepared and did not collapse into panic.

After losing only one ship, heavily damaged and out of action, they finally closed the distance between cold steel and thunder.

Trebuchets swung, ballistae twanged, and volleys of incendiary pots, stones, spears, bolts, and bundled projectiles rained down upon the miniature Iron Fleet. Yet the enemy's return fire was far heavier than expected. Flaming and smoking projectiles fell like rain around them. Some struck the deck, exploding and bursting into flames. Crewmen scrambled to extinguish fires, while the thud of impacts against the hull and cries of the wounded magnified the intensity of battle tenfold.

Though they held a local numerical advantage, Davos realized they could not achieve fire superiority while the enemy's cannons continued to provide support.

"The Ironborn ships are meant for raiding. They should not have such powerful long range weapons," an aide said nervously, ducking his head. "It must be that Daenerys's craftsmen refitted them in haste, mounting siege engines captured from the Rivermen onto their decks. My lord Hand, we should not continue exchanging fire. We should ram them and fight at close quarters. Once we close, their new weapons in the center will be constrained, and we hold the advantage in numbers and in the quality of our ships and sailors. We will surely win."

The suggestion matched Davos's own thoughts. He adopted it at once and sent the order.

The battle had only just begun, and the command structure remained intact. Soon every captain received the signal.

Courses adjusted subtly, speed increased again. The rams beneath the waterline glinted faintly in the sunset. As the ships drew nearer, crossbow volleys joined the exchange. Even in archery, Daenerys's vanguard did not fall behind, suggesting that she had reinforced not only her ships but also her crews.

But none of that mattered now. Warships were not war elephants. They would not trample their own simply because the enemy proved stronger than expected. Time passed quickly, and the distance shrank until indiscriminate bombardment became impossible. The faces of the men on opposing decks grew clear.

"Ramming speed."

"Hold course."

"Hard to starboard."

Amid the exhausted roars of helmsmen on both sides, either ramming or desperately trying to evade, the center of the royal fleet finally smashed into Daenerys's vanguard.

The Ironborn were masters of naval combat. Serving Daenerys for two years had not dulled their instincts. Though outmatched in numbers, size, and speed, they avoided most direct ramming attempts.

Thud.

Bang.

Rip.

Crack.

A dull impact signaled a timely turn and a broadside collision. The sharper tearing sound meant a hull had been pierced and ripped open by a ram. The snapping cracks mingled with the chaos were oars caught and crushed by passing ships.

Amid screams from those thrown into the sea, Davos steadied himself after the violent jolt. The Fury and a friendly ship to starboard had pinned a single enemy vessel between them.

It was a fat, wide hulled ship with lower sides than the Fury. By its shape, it was no proper warship, likely a captured armed merchantman. The royal fleet had placed its largest ships in the first line, yet Daenerys had thrown even such vessels into her vanguard. She had committed every card she possessed.

Davos did not know the ship's name, nor did he care. He heard sharp metallic clinks as grappling hooks flew and caught the Fury's rail. Ropes tightened, binding the ships together before they could drift apart.

Sandwiched between two enemies, yet they dared to initiate boarding.

Too arrogant.

"Men, take up your weapons." Davos felt a surge of anger and pride. Behind the Fury stood the second and third lines. The flanking maneuver was taking shape. This battle could not be lost.

With a clang, he drew his dagger and shouted, "Long live King Stannis."

"Long live King Stannis."

With the Hand and his guards leading, the Fury's crew surged with morale. Grabbing whatever weapons they could, they followed their officers, rushed to starboard, leapt over the rail, dropped nearly a yard, and landed on the enemy deck.

The front rank raised shields, watching the enemy's every movement. They had heard of the strange weapons that exploded, though they did not know their name. After learning of the Blackwater Rush, they expected black spheres to arc toward them.

Instead, there was no panic among the enemy sailors. No bombs came flying. From the holds poured ranks of Unsullied, forming orderly lines and advancing with an air of calm resolve.

(To be continued.)