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Interlude: Battle of Duskendale Part I
🕑 Added 2024-09-11 01:03:36 +0000 UTCBrienne was nervous, it was completely unlike her, to be sure, but then, the last time she'd fought in a major life-or-death situation she hadn't had so much to lose. Not only was she married to a man who loved her for who she was, not only was she part of the current wealthiest and most powerful House in Westeros, but she was a mother too. Quentyn was still only barely a year old and already both his parents were off to fight in a war that could see them killed. It was a harrowing thought that she hadn't had to deal with the last time.
Regardless, she was a Warrior, it was not in her nature to shirk from battle while her husband went off to fight. Ricasso wouldn't ask that of her and Brienne wasn't inclined to it to begin with. Still, it might be best if she limited her participation in this war, if only for Quentyn's sake. If she could win a great victory by taking Duskendale and the Dun Fort, she would consider that enough for the time being. It was why she had brought her father with her, to command after she returned home to Bloodstone.
"Duskendale's sent their fleet to try and stall us." Informed her Father, clambering down belowdecks.
"How many are there? Vizimir's Intelligence suggested they didn't have many." Questioned Brienne.
"And they don't, not near enough to do more than cause a momentary inconvenience. Six-and-ten War Galleys armed with four-pound guns, four Dromons bearing bombards, and a score of impressed merchant ships armed with a mix of whatever was on hand, two-pounder guns, a few four pounders, many still armed with ballistae." Informed her Father.
"Two score ships, only one of which poses any threat at all." Mused Brienne.
"Indeed. Our fleet is over three times the size of theirs and many times more effective. As I said, this is a stalling tactic. Likely, Lord Rykker is hoping to stall our assault long enough to draw in reinforcements from his neighbors to prevent the loss of what is effectively the only true City in the Crownlands outside King's Landing. Over twenty-and-a-hundred-thousand souls call it home, after the recent expansion of the City's industry. More than enough to retain its position as the sixth largest city in Westeros." Nodded her Father.
"That is the reason we're attacking them, yes. That and the fact that they are supplying large amounts of men and equipment to the Lannister's Forces. Do you believe they will be enough?" Queried Brienne.
"No. Not nearly enough. The Lannisters have called a goodly portion of the levies of the Crownlands to King's Landing to defend Joffrey Waters. Lord Rykker sent half his levy, four thousand men, to the Capital to bolster the direct Forces of King's Landing. Between the Gold Cloaks, Red Keep Garrison, and the Lannister Guards already in the Capital, the Capital already had eight thousand men to defend it, but with half the remaining Crownlands Levy there, that only leaves six thousand remaining men in the rest of the Crownlands to call on, not counting Cracklaw Point. Many of the other Lords will be wanting to keep those men close to home, in case the battles in Duskendale and the Point swing against the Lannisters." Explained her Father.
"And Cersei will not gladly allow Lord Rykker's men to return to him. I believe we can do this." Affirmed Brienne.
"Brienne, I know you've made up your mind on this, but as your father, I feel it my duty to ask. You understand you need not take the field personally, yes? Should Ricasso be gravely wounded, or Gods be good, slain, someone must be there to take care of Quentyn." Reminded her Father.
"I know. I need only one large victory to satisfy me this time, father. Have no fear and trust that victory at Duskendale will be all I require." Offered Brienne.
"Very well. Then perhaps you might consider arming yourself. Our fleet will meet theirs shortly." Intoned her Father.
Then, Lord Selwyn Tarth made his way back up the stairs onto the main deck and left Brienne alone in her cabin below. Brienne, now self-assured of her decision, shrugged on the Arsenal Steel Chainmail and the Leather and Arsenal Steel Brigandine, the heaviest armor she would allow herself to wear at sea, and grabbed her swordbelt. The time for self-doubt had passed.
The time for action was at hand. . .
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Admiral Alan Waters, Captain of the Dromon Black Hammer, and Admiral of the Fleet of Duskendale, had argued strongly against this attack. In point of fact, he'd argued strongly against getting involved in the war at all, especially with how his father, Lord Renfryd Rykker had seemingly put every Gold Dragon, Silver Stag, and Copper Star of the Arms budget into his Guards rather than his fleet. Sometimes it seemed as if everything that had been earmarked for military expenditure had gone to the Guards and Levies down to the last rusty groat, even though Alan knew that wasn't the case.
Indeed, they wouldn't have even had the score of proper warships they did a decade ago. Of course, they had also been counting on reinforcements from the Royal Fleet to bolster their fleet against anything more than a few pirates or an opportunistic Pointsman Flotilla.
When Stannis had declared his intention to raise a flag of rebellion and took the Royal Fleet with him, that should have been a sign that involving themselves in the war would only invite a naval assault. No, his father had argued, even then, Stannis had not the manpower to seize control of Duskendale, it would take at least twenty-four-thousand men, three times the number of troops that House Rykker could call on, to successfully storm such formidable defenses, and the Narrow Sea Houses could not muster nearly that many, even united.
Of course, any fool could have realized how close Lord Seawynd was to Stannis and pointed out that he had fifty-thousand men of his own to add to Stannis' Forces. His father had refused to listen, however. Lord Seawynd, he claimed, was too wedded to the idea of making money. Wars are expensive, especially Civil Wars that could stretch on for years. Why fight for years, spending blood and treasure, when he could make good coin selling armaments to both sides? It was what the Braavosi would do, and Lord Seawynd seemed to ape them in every other respect. Alan hadn't the heart to tell him that Braavos waged war just as furiously as they bought and sold goods, one need only ask the Pentoshi about that.
But no, House Rykker had a debt to the Iron Throne, for they had been loyal to Aerys during the Rebellion thanks to Aerys giving control of Duskendale to them. King Robert had allowed them to keep their lands, titles, and privileges when he was well within his rights as the victor to strip some or all of those away from them. They would repay that debt by standing by his son, the new King Joffrey, in his hour of need, even to the point of sending a full half of their forces to King's Landing on request and perhaps, gain Stokeworth for the family in the bargain.
Now, they were staring down the barrel of the exact scenario that Alan had warned his father about, and with only four thousand men to defend against what appeared to be fifteen thousand enemy troops, if the numbers and types of troopships that the Enemy Fleet were using were at all accurate in the reports he'd been given. That was well over the three times amount to seize Duskendale by assault.
Alan's father had panicked, he'd impressed as many merchant ships as he could, arming them with whatever spare armament he had on hand, and sending Alan with the fleet to buy time and perhaps, sink some troopships to cut down on the number of enemies they were facing. That would be the only chance they had to survive for long enough that they could receive reinforcements from the Army gathering at King's Landing. Alan had to sink at least six of the enemy troopships and drown enough of their forces that they would be unable to immediately take Duskendale by assault.
Of course, Alan's trueborn brothers remained off the battlefield for the time being, even those of fighting age. His eldest trueborn brother, Ser Jaremy Rykker, had gone to the Wall, having been captured by Tywin Lannister during the Sack of King's Landing and given that choice. His second eldest Trueborn Brother, the current heir, Ser Raymund Rykker, was sticking close to their father, while his third eldest Trueborn brother, Jon Rykker, was currently acting as a squire for Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Commander of the Gold Cloaks, all the way in the by now well-protected Capital while the twins, Darman and Patrek Rykker, were still only ten years of age and currently serving as pages to Lady Falyse Stokeworth and Lord Balman Byrch respectively in the hopes that the Childless Couple would be inclined to make either Darman or Patrek their heir should House Rykker be afforded that privilege by the Iron Throne.
With all of his Trubeorn Brothers elsewhere or at his father's side, it would fall to Alan to see this through. Hopefully, he would be capable of doing so. Thus far, his plan involved sending the ill-armed, ill-drilled, impressed merchant ships around on a wide flanking maneuver to make it appear as if they were abandoning the fight at the first opportunity when in actuality he was sending them on a roundabout path to attack the enemy troopships. Meanwhile, he and the score of proper warships would attempt to hold the line as best they could. As he belted on his quilted leather arming tunic and grabbed his arming sword and dirk from a nearby chair, the form of Ser Pate Leek, his second-in-command, entered his cabin.
"Admiral, we've just sent the merchants around the enemy fleet's hoved into sight. Should I order ranging shots?" Asked Pate.
"Aye, we'll need to. The guns on our Dromons aren't nimble enough and the gunners on our war galleys aren't drilled regularly enough for them to go without." Commanded Alan.
"Aye, Admiral. Will you be commanding from your Cabin?" Questioned Pate.
"No, I'll be out in a moment. This lot needs to see their Admiral on the Quarterdeck or they might run." Informed Alan, tightening the last strap on his arming tunic and moving to belt on his swordbelt.
"Aye sir, I'll send the orders." Nodded Pate before exiting the cabin to begin barking orders for ranging shots.
Soon enough, Alan had his arming sword and dirk belted onto his waist and moved to grab the plumed, sallet-style, half-helm he wore when commanding the fleet. The blue, argent, and black plumes let anyone who was paying attention know that the Admiral was on deck and in command. He strapped on the sallet helm and headed out he paused just long enough to hear the bombards on the deck roar out in their ranging shots. They belched fire and smoke, their massive, four-hundred-pound, stone shot meant for reducing coastal fortifications splashing into the waves of the Narrow Sea, throwing up massive plumes of spray as the bombards tried to find the range.
Then, taking a deep breath, Alan stepped out onto the deck to take command personally. . .
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Volo Antaryion was a Braavosi Sailor whose services had been purchased to act as Bosun of the troopship Sea Weasel. The fat-bellied cog provided a great view of the battle raging in front of them, while she stayed well out of range of the conflagration that was ensnaring the hapless bastards of the fleet of Duskendale. Even these Sunset Barbarians had to understand that such a fight was pointless. Surely they would have been better served negotiating or perhaps using fireships to attempt some semblance of strategy besides firing everything at a fleet three times their size and seeing if they hit anything.
Even their impressed merchants had abandoned them early on! Clearly, at least some of these Sunset Barbarians had sense. Of course, the Lord he was currently serving, Lord Seawynd proved that much, but then, he was almost Braavosi himself, being raised by one of the Secret City's Merchant Princes. Volo was fairly sure Lord Seawynd counted less as a Sunset Barbarian than most, the man even fought as a Water Dancer did, which was eminently more sensible than standing your ground and hacking away like these Andal Knights that were so common.
Volo watched as the War Galley Lion Lizard was hit by a stray shot from one of the large bombards aboard one of the four enemy Dromons. The large, stone, cannonball practically broke the Lizard Lion in twain. Volo winced in sympathy as the ship went down within seconds from the giant gunstone. Most of the time those heavy gunstones missed, sending up impressive plumes of spray as they splashed into the water. Sometimes, though, luck just wasn't on your side. It had happened around five times in the battle so far. Usually, it was one of the smaller ships, the Fully-Rigged Naval Pinnaces named after varieties of predatory birds, or the War Galleys named after non-avian predators. Only once had he seen one of those bombards hit one of the large Naus named after lucky symbols and iconography. The Lucky Seven hadn't been so lucky after all, her keel splintering as a massive gunstone broke her back.
By and large, however, Lord Seawynd's fleet was winning handily. Already seven enemy ships had been sent to greet the Merling King or boarded and captured. Two others had been damaged enough to strike their colors and surrendered. One was looking like it might do the same any moment. There was a crack as the Fully-rigged Naval Pinnace Harpy Eagle had its masts splinter from a pair of four-pounder shots smashing into them, the mainmast dragging the ship over to capsize as the men aboard couldn't clear the wreckage in time. That's a bad way to go, as it was hard to swim clear of a capsized ship. At least with a sinking one, up was actually up. Volo said a prayer to the Moon-Pale Maiden for the poor souls aboard.
Still, it looked as if the enemy would break any moment now. Half their fleet was already gone and the other half all had damage. Volo watched as the Albatross flagship of the fleet under Lady Seawynd and her father, ran up alongside one of the enemy dromons that had a black-painted warhammer for a figurehead and began to board. Lady Seawynd charged onto the main deck of the dromon with the first wave. She hacked her way across the deck toward the idiot in the plumed sallet helm, clearly a commander of some sort. Volo watched her take three enemy sailors at once, cutting one in half with a textbook Fendente cut from teeth to hip while ducking a cut of the second's boarding axe before running him through with her blade and shoulder-checking the third over the side in her quest for the commander.
"Buona Fortuna, Signora!" Called out Volo as he watched Lady Seawynd be reinforced by a second wave before charging at the Enemy Commander.
Then, with a shout, someone drew Volo's attention to their port. Looking over that way, Volo spotted the impressed merchant ships from earlier returning to the fray, firing shots at the troopships! As he watched, the Cogs Thrify Gull and Sturdy Ox went down under fire the converted trade cogs weren't designed to weather. The troopships tried to fire back, but they only had a few, two-pounder, deck guns to do it with. Four other troopships went down and three others were damaged and burning before the troopships' more accurate, but less numerous, guns drove the enemy off, leaving three burning in the water. The damage had been done, however.
Fortunately, the enemy fleet of Warships was done with fighting shortly afterward. One more sunk, one more striking and surrendering, and one, the enemy flagship, captured. In return, Lord Seawynd's fleet only suffered one more sunk War Galley, the Brazen Lion, which had been bracketed by fire from two enemy War Galleys and exploded from the enemy fire penetrating into the powder room and setting off the black powder inside. Now it was time for search and rescue. The Sea Weasel would take part in that.
It was the least they could do, after all. . .
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Brienne was furious. Search and rescue had lasted a few hours, but they hadn't recovered enough to maintain the numbers advantage they'd need for an immediate assault. Even capturing the Admiral of the Duskendale Fleet and Lord Rykker's natural son hadn't assuaged her anger. Three and a half thousand troops drowned or burned to death another one and a half thousand wounded. Five thousand troops in total, a third of the forces available to her had become casualties in the sea battle. It was forcing Brienne to settle into a siege around the thick walls of Duskendale. Fortunately, most of her guns and supplies survived, so that was a viable option. It still stung.
"We saw what we wanted to see when their impressed merchant ships fled the field. A ruse." Groused Brienne.
"The best sort of ruse. One that the ones it was being used against both wish and expect to see." Nodded her Father.
"I should have known better. I would have, had this been years ago, my sensibilities must have softened to such tricks after marrying Ricasso." Sighed Brienne.
"You should not lay the blame on your Lord Husband." Frowned her Father.
"I do not. I lay the blame on myself." Intoned Brienne.
"Don't, just move forward and strive to do better next time." Offered her Father.
"That sounds like something Ricasso might say." Pointed out Brienne.
"I knew I liked your husband for a reason." Grinned her Father.
Brienne couldn't help herself, she cracked a smile. Her father was right, Ricasso would doubtless say the same. She had to simply strive to do better. Dark mood banished, Brienne turned back to her maps when a cry went up from the siege camp. Frowning, Brienne grabbed her blade and exited her command tent before she beheld a sight she thought she might never see. The aged form of an unarmed Ser Barristan the Bold had entered camp. Without his white cloak. As he approached, Brienne was wary of a trick after having so recently been fooled at sea. Ser Barristan stopped his march through camp right in front of Brienne and her father.
"What are you doing here?" Demanded Brienne.
"The boy, Joffrey demanded my resignation from the Kingsguard. I am too old for service, he said, as if an appointment to the Kingsguard were not for life. His Master of Laws, Lord Buckwell, has even bent all laws and customs of Westeros to allow for such a thing. At King Joffrey's express command. Such flagrant breaking of laws for such a petty purpose proves that Joffrey is unworthy of the Iron Throne. Stannis is known as a man of Laws and Principles. I would seek to serve a King that is just as I have heard he is." Responded Ser Barristan.
"Why should we believe you? Do not mistake me, I know you to be an honest and forthright man, but these are uncommon times." Queried Brienne's Father.
"If my reputation is not enough, perhaps the fact that I can deliver you Duskendale might prove my sincerity? After all, I have done so before." Answered Ser Barristan.
Brienne's heart, so recently hardened against treachery by the ruse that had resulted in the loss of so many men, couldn't help itself. It was filled with hope once more, even though she should rightfully be wary. Nodding to the Legendary Knight, Brienne made a fateful decision.
"Very well, Ser Barristan. I agree. On one condition." Agreed Brienne.
"Name it." Intoned Ser Barristan.
"I go with you." Demanded Brienne.
At Ser Barristan's genuine smile, so lacking in guile, Brienne knew she had made the right choice. . .
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AN: All right, so here we see how the first part of the Battle for Duskendale shook out. Brienne won the Naval Battle and captured the Enemy Admiral, but not before he took out enough of her troopships to force a siege instead of a concentrated bombardment followed by an immediate assault. Fortunately, she now has a bit of help from an Old Hand at infiltrating Duskendale, thanks to Joffrey being a cruel, petty, idiot.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the second part of the Battle for Duskendale.
Stay tuned. . .
