Red Scab | Tyrosh | 258AC
Red Scab stood absolutely still at the front of the century of Unsullied he commanded as a Golden Company man, trailed by two others, made his way toward them.
Less than a week had passed since the sack of Tyrosh, and it seemed the conquerors did not want to rest on their laurels for they were already packing up to leave. Red Scab's master, a middling magister, had died during the sack and by order of the new Prince of Tyrosh, Alequo, he had been returned to the slave market like all other unowned slaves.
Red Scab only hoped his next master would grant them the only vice left to Unsullied, food. His last master had been a strict disciplinarian who had trained them hard, hoping their skills would rub off on his guards so he could sell them for a profit.
Red Scab fixed his attention on the black haired red eyed youth as he dismissed a man's assurances that he'd be better off saving his money and not buying Unsullied.
"Brendon, it's my coin to spend, and since you're not my father, why don't you shut up," the youth said.
The other man laughed at Brendon's expense, elbowing him as Brendon shook his head and looked skyward. "Why were we placed under a green boy," he muttered.
The youth ignored him and turned to the merchant in charge of this section of the slave market. He shook a pouch of coins to bring him over.
"How may I help you oh noble master?" The slimy, fat merchant greeted the man.
"I mean to buy this century of Unsullied. What is their price?"
The merchant quoted a number that was much too high.
"These Unsullied are not fresh from Astapor and are quite aged. Do you seriously mean to rob a member of the Golden Company?" the youth said, patting the golden band of cloth around his arm.
The merchant immediately began to sweat, offering a thousand apologies, before lowering his price and completing the sale.
As they marched behind the man and his two men they soon found themselves inside one of the larger palaces adjacent to the Archons. The man dismissed his two guards by tossing a few coins at them and raising a finger to his lips, a motion they smiled and nodded at before leaving.
Turning to face them, the man introduced himself.
"My name is Aurion and I have bought you," he said, practically spitting the word 'bought.'
"And as of this moment I free all one hundred of you. You are free to leave and do as you wish. I will gladly take in those of you who wish to stay and will pay you, though it will be poor pay for a while."
The usually unmoving formation of Unsullied began to stir as they processed Aurion's words. The men turned to Red Scab as their century commander. Gathering his courage, burying the rising hope in his chest, he asked the question surely on all their minds.
"Master, is this a jape? Or are we really free?"
Aurion smiled, running a hand through his short hair. "It is exactly like I have told you. You are now free men, free men who can choose to serve me or do whatever they want."
One of the Unsullied, Grey Water, broke formation and stepped slowly toward the door. He glanced back at Aurion, who simply nodded. When Grey Water reached the exit of the courtyard, he froze, then returned and knelt before Aurion.
"I hope you will have me as a free man, Master," he said.
Red Scab and the others quickly followed, echoing the same words and meaning it with all their hearts. Only a few Unsullied ran outside, and even fewer did not return.
"Good. For those of you who stayed, my first task will be one that must be done in absolute secrecy."
"Red Scab is your name, right?" Aurion said, looking at him.
Red Scab nodded.
"If he does not wish to change his name, Red Scab will lead a group of around twelve Unsullied to retrieve something from a castle called Summerhall in Westeros. You will be aided by a guide, a recently freed Stormlander, and leave on a chartered ship immediately."
Comfortable with being given orders, Red Scab asked, "What do you wish for us to retrieve, Master?"
"Call me anything besides master. And as for what.." he paused, leaned in, and smiled.
"Why, seven precious dragon eggs of course."
– – – Xalthra | Stepstones | 260 AC
Xalthra rubbed his raw chaffed thighs while keeping his horse's rein in hand. The horse clodded along the main dirt path that passed for a road on the island of Bloodstone.
Pulling up beside Aurion, Xalthra made to open his mouth to trade some banter but stopped as Aurion raised his fist. The scouting procession of eight men commanded by Aurion also stopped and grew silent.
Rustiling was heard from the thickets to the front causing everyone to paw at their weapons. Aurion grabbed three javelin from the quiver saddled on his horse, one ready to throw and the other two in hand to follow. Everyone followed suit given that Aurion incessantly drilled all the light cavalry under his command in javelin use.
A man of Westerosi complexion bursted through the thickets atop a horse and with a spear in hand. A few men seemed to be following behind him.
"Loose," Aurion yelled, throwing his javelin.
The weapons pierced through the leading man's chainmail throwing him off his horse, dead on the ground. His and the others following javelins also landed with great effect, felling man and horse.
Soon only one enemy outrider still lived who hightailed it out of there.
"Grey Wind," Aurion spoke, "Follow as close as you can to see the Targaryen armies camp. Fall back if you meet resistance."
Nodding the Unsullied flicked his reins and guided his horse forward. Spitting to the side Xalthra bemoaned the situation.
"This is like the hundredth clash between our scouts and the Westerosi's. Why aren't they manning up and committing to battle yet."
Aurion answered much too well for someone who had never been at war.
"Though not divulged to me it seems that Maelys means to guide them to the Western side of the island in hopes of using the more hilly and rocky terrain to blunt their cavalry advantage."
Breandon the Golden Company man most likely placed under Aurion's command to insure an eye was kept on him then spoke.
"There is no glory to be had in these skirmishes. I can't wait until the battle starts."
Aurion stayed quiet for a moment, his red eyes contemplating, before he spoke.
"Yes, I can't wait as well."
– – – Maelys Blackfyre | Stepstones | 260 AC
As the messenger finished his report, Captain-General Maelys Blackfyre drove his gauntleted fists into the table, splintering the oak and sending cracks racing through the grain like lightning. Wine leapt from his cup and from the goblets near to him, Nine Eyes's and Xhobar Qhoqua's, dark droplets spattering onto the floor.
Aurion sprang forward without being told, pitcher in hand, righting the cups and wiping the mess away with practiced haste.
Aurion in light of his deeds at finding the Westerosi camp and the numerous skirmishing actions he committed had been promoted to be Maelys's squire, though it was more ceremonial than practical given that Aurion would still ride into battle by himself.
Maelys leveled a finger at Old Mother, his voice loud and dangerous.
"Seems the only one in this damned tent worth his salt is my bloody squire. You mean to tell me both you and Samarro Saan let your fleets get broken by the squids?"
The now Pirate Queen of the Stepstones spat onto the floor, her wrinkled face twisted into a scowl.
"I warned you, Maelys, that I needed more men on my decks to face the Ironborn. Those mad bastards sail draped in iron from brow to heel, and even with better seamanship my ships couldn't hold against theirs. Before the fight was truly over that gutless Samarro cut his losses and fled south with what was left of his fleet."
Maelys dragged an iron hand across his face, fighting down the urge to crush her skull like rotten fruit. Rage burned behind his teeth, but he forced it down. Even the worst captain afloat was worth more to him than just another corpse.
For a season all had gone great with the Stepstones falling to them in weeks, and word from the mainland speaking of Summerhall in flames, most of the royal bloodline gone to ash, leaving that frail Jaehaerys II clinging to the throne.
Even when news came of the royal host mustering to bring steel against them, Maelys felt no fear. Their numbers seemed to be less than theirs but he welcomed battle given that his men were seasoned killers, bloodied and eager.
The Iron Throne had sent no paltry force but rather over a hundred Ironborn longships under Quellon Greyjoy, a thousand knights and ten thousand men-at-arms from the Westerlands led by Ser Jason Lannister, and tens of thousands more men from the other kingdoms. Fifty thousand swords in total, ten thousand more than theirs, but Maelys reckoned half of theirs would break and run when the smell of blood turned their guts given that many were levies.
The plan had been simple, harry them at sea and lower their numbers before they ever set foot on Bloodstone. Instead, the Ironborn and the royal fleet tore through their supply lines like sharks through a shoal, and when Maelys sent Old Mother and Samarro to stop them they had returned broken or not at all with Samarro having slithered away.
As if that was not enough the Hand of the King himself, Ormund Baratheon, had successfully landed with his host on Bloodstone. This news was not all bad. Let them come, Maelys thought, better an open battle than them attempting to starve us on the island. The red dragons had spent generations trying to grind House Blackfyre into the dust and he was eager to return the favor.
Turning to the gathered leaders he spoke again, now calm and focused.
"We must force a battle in which we kill their leaders. Westerosi armies do not have as structured a command as ours and when we kill their high lords the levies shall break and run."
Spotted Tom and Bad Apple Fossway nodded, both being from Westeros themselves. Fossway added, "It would be best if Xhobar's archers targeted them with their goldenheart bows. Westeros isn't as used to such a range so we may very well catch them by surprise."
Maelys looked at Xhobar who nodded. Nine Eyes then spoke, his High Valyrian tinged with a Ghiscari accent as he hailed from the slaver cities of the east.
"My men are used to mountainous terrain like the one present here on Bloodstone. I can lead a detachment of my men to flank the Westerosi army as a distraction for Xhobar. I would like to take Aurions javelin cavalry with me though."
Aurion nodded his acceptance. In the two years Aurion had been in the Golden Company the light cavalry detachment he led had expanded to nearly 600 men, all funded by Aurion himself by selling sugar he somehow made from beets, growing obscenely rich off of it.
The talk about tactics, troop positioning, rations and the like continued long into the night for the battle was soon to be fought in the coming days as the royal army marched with haste across the island of Bloodstone to meet them.
Dismissing everyone from his tent Maelys relaxed in the silence before realizing he wasn't alone. Aurion stood dutifully in the corner having remained silent the entire day. Waving his hand Maelys called him over to the maps.
"What do you think about our situation, Aurion? As now a man of eight and ten years and a leader in the Golden Company it's important that you have knowledge of all things battle."
Staring at the papers burdened with many different wooden figurines depicting both their and the enemies' forces Aurion spoke.
"It seems our position could have been worse. If they simply chose to blockade the island we would have no choice to push for a sea battle something that we would probably lose. An open battle on the other hand suits us much more than the usurper's army. Though they have more heavy cavalry they will be hard pressed to maneuver on the rocky island. My light calvary can run circles around them, messing up their formations and eating into their numbers. They are also numerous hills that we can set up archers on given that they are the ones approaching and not us. All in all though we may be outnumbered but we have more than a chance."
Maelys nodded, pleased at the words that echoed his own thoughts. The man had clearly been paying attention during the entire meeting, something most wouldn't be able to do. Testing him again, Maelys asked, "Why did you think we lost at sea?"
"Even if we have a similar amount of ships ours is a loose band of pirates while the royals have the Ironborn which are a dangerous tool when controlled by someone with a brain like Quellon Greyjoy. The current Lord Reaper clearly has some low cunning given that he put himself in a position to reap large rewards from the King simply by having had his men reave our supplies and destroy our ships in a single battle. He now is free to use his position in the Stepstones to raid the Free Cities before returning home whether the royals win or lose."
If that damned squid was more like his forebearers he wouldn't have left his barren isles and the royal army would now be on the bottom of the Narrow Sea, Maelys thought before pushing the useless notion from his head.
Deciding to amuse himself Maelys asked Aurion if he had any suggestions on the upcoming battle. The boy's face pulled in indecisiveness and he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, clearly deciding whether or not to voice his thoughts. Disappointed in his hesitation, Maelys raised his hand, choosing not to hear him out, dismissing him instead.
"A man must be decisive. Go and sleep, you will need the energy in the upcoming days."