Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 59: Let's Get This Over With

―The Sunset Sea―

Aboard the King Robert's Warhammer...

Daveth and his men gathered around the war table, each observing a map detailing the Iron Islands' seven major archipelago in the chain and map marker pieces stationed on several key locations where they will launch their all-out invasion. This was it, the final confrontation between the mainlanders and the ironborn. He knew this was a critical moment where his naval and ground forces would either seal the fate of House Greyjoy or be driven out. The Young Stag inhaled through his nose before exhaling; his mind was made up. There will be no retreat, no surrender. The plan was to be carried out accordingly.

"Scouts report that Balon Greyjoy's forces had holed up throughout the Iron Islands," spoke Rodrik Cassel. "What's left of the Iron Fleet should put up little resistance, but they're still formidable on open water. We need to get them on broken ground and put them at a disadvantage."

Greatjon Umber shook his head. "Bah! They'll offer heavy resistance either way. We need to get around them and have our fleets distract them from behind so our troops can move in. Less of a hassle and we'll have plenty of manpower to spare when the day is done."

"To do that, we'll need to cover more ground," Robb studied the map. "The closest island is Harlaw, it's the second largest after Great Wyk and is both the wealthiest and most populous region."

Great Wyk... thought Daveth, remembering the haunting images of his brutal torture at the hands of the ironborn so many years ago. He furrowed his brow, bringing his hand up to scratch his chin.

"Your Grace?" Ser Barristan broke his concentration.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, leaning forward to study the map. "Lord Bolton, how many men do we have left from the last two battles?"

"After losing 10,000 men to free Moat Cailin plus another 8,000 to break the ironborn navy at sea, we have about 71,000 troops remaining," Roose informed the King. "Plenty enough to engulf the Iron Islands, though the battle will still be costly. If what Lord Umber suggests is accurate, then we will face heavy resistance once our soldiers land on solid ground."

Randyll spoke up. "There are no easy choices in war, Lord Bolton. You either march off to war with what you have or wait on the sidelines while our enemies gather strength. Here, we cannot afford to waste such valuable time. If we are to strike, it must be done now."

"Well then, we're all agreed on one thing," Stannis remarked, "that is to strike now before any of the ironborn could prepare a mounting defense. Balon Greyjoy and all who follow him must be destroyed or all of Westeros will feel the painful sting of defeat and humiliation for generations."

"Listen to yourself, Lord Stannis," Galbart Glover protested. "If you use force to wipe out tens of thousands, then how are we any better than the ironborn?"

Daveth pondered over the consult of his gathered generals. He agreed this campaign needed to be brought to a close soon, and it needed to be done now. But even the Young Stag knew that anything bold or reckless would possibly cost him more men in the long term. Running multiple scenarios in his mind, he picked up a war piece in his hand, feeling the wooden structure brush against his fingertips. "We're doing this to save lives, Lord Glover, to end the war, not for the pursuit of glory," he finally interjected. "I will mourn for the dead, yet I'll do whatever I must so that no one else has to suffer at the hands of their treachery again."

Robb felt uneasy about his brother-in-law's speech pattern, yet detected a notion of conflict in his voice as well. An inner struggle, no doubt. Before anyone could speak up, Daveth's squire Olyvar Frey ran into the tent.