Blood of Dragons

After a smooth voyage up the Narrow Sea, the royal fleet made harbor at Gulltown beneath a slate-grey sky, the towers of House Grafton rising over bustling docks. Prince Daeron was received with due ceremony, alongside Princess Daena, Prince Aemon, and the rest of the royal company. Nobles disembarked to stretch their legs, survey the city, and briefly take in the salt-slick air of the Vale’s eastern gate before Lord Grafton led the royal party to feast at his castle.

Their arrival was marked, however, by another scene at the harbor’s edge. Suspended in a crow cage near the seawall hung a filthy, half-starved clansman whose defiant jeers and foul provocations drew ire from many, including Ser Jon Roxton, Ser Omrys Baratheon, and Ser Dermett Corbray. This man, proclaiming himself a Burned Man who had been “blessed by the fire witch”, turned his lascivious savage eye on well-bred noblewomen, offering to give them sons. His words raised the hackles of the knights who heard it, steel was drawn, and blood was spilled before cooler heads prevailed. The nobles withdrew only at the approach of Gulltown’s watch, who explained that Lord Grafton’s heir, Ser Cortnay, had brought the clansman from the Mountains of the Moon after having captured him during service at the Bloody Gate.

By morning, the matter was closed. Acting on his own authority, Lord Grafton ordered the prisoner executed for his insults. Karric was left in his cage, body coverd in spear-wounds, his body swaying in the sea wind within its cage. Despite this grim image, some of the court left on a ferry for the isle where the Motherhouse of Maris could be found, a place of pilgrimage to many. Prayers were offered. By the next day’s end, the court soon returned to their ships. With sails raised once more, the royal progress turns northward, aiming to pause at Sisterton.

Yet not all ships stayed the course. Caught in a squall during the second night at sea, the _Royal Spear_ suffered damage to its rudder and fell behind the rest of the fleet. Adrift in choppy waters and forced to make temporary repairs, the galley lost sight of its companions by morning. It was in this vulnerable state—sails slack, steerage poor—that the Royal Spear was sighted by a vessel out of Lys, low-slung and foul with black sails.

The attackers came hard and fast, grapnels flung and deck swarmed in the flash of blades and the roar of men. But the knights aboard the _Royal Spear_—among them Ser Jon Roxton, Ser Omrys Baratheon, and Ser Otho Royce—led a ferocious counter-assault. Blood ran on both decks, yet the pirate captain, a man named Brandt, was forced to yield. Some of his crew died fighting; others were cut down in the retreat as their vessel broke away. A handful surrendered and were bound where they fell.

Among the prisoners were two Sistermen who swore they had been pressed into service against their will. Gaunt and hollow-eyed, they claimed to have been seized from a fishing boat and found themselves forced to row and fight with the priates. Their fate, like that of the other captives, now lies with the court. As for the _Royal Spear_, her rudder repaired and decks mopped clean, she sets her course once more, battered but unbroken.

The fleet made landfall at last beneath the misted bluffs of Sisterton, its towers half-lost in fog and gull cries. There, beneath the gaze of Lord Gelion Sunderland and Lord Borrell of Breakwater, a tribunal was convened in the castle yard to judge the pirate captives. Prince Daeron Targaryen, though invited to preside, deferred to the local lords, content to observe and counsel. Testimony was given by knights and nobles alike: Ser Bryar Mooton spoke of a frightened man who surrendered rather than fight, while Ser Orbert Farman and Ser Omrys Baratheon were less forgiving. The Sisterton smallfolk, too, cried out in the yard, pleading for the life of one Cobbin, a fisherman-turned-pirate whose kin stood weeping at the gates. Among those who spoke in favor of leniency was Lady Elyse Caswell, who urged the court to consider sending the captives to the Wall instead of the noos—her measured words lending dignity to the cries of the crowd and helping tip the judgment toward mercy.

Justice was meted swiftly. Brandt, the pirate captain, was sentenced to hang for his crimes, yet Prince Daeron intervened with a final offer: the Wall. Cobbin, though spared the noose and the Wall, was not let off unmarked. He was condemned to be branded upon the face, a permanent sign of the crimes he could not deny. Garrik, another Sisterman, had succumbed to his wounds in the night, to the grief of his friends and kin. As for the remaining pirates—Essosi reavers and sellsails—most were offered rope or black. A dozen chose the latter.

By dawn, sails cracked in the wind once more. The royal fleet weighed anchor, headed north toward White Harbor with _Prince Daeron_ at the forefront. Among the ships rode a grim complement of prisoners: Brandt, shackled and silent, and the other pirates now destined for the Wall. A heavy fog clung to Sisterton’s shore as the fleet vanished from view, justice behind them and a wedding ahead.