The Stepstones Deception, from Pirates to Royal Soldiers, Fighting the Maiden’s Men
Ser Aerion and Lady Lyvia had enjoyed their dinner, along with chatting with some of the crew onboard the ship. The clam chowder was tasty, and after both Aerion and Lyvia had their fill, with a bit of convincing from Lyvia, Aerion shared the remainder of the pot with whoever wanted some. Together, the two went above decks, gathering with the rest of the crew to hear the plan of attack from the Crown Prince himself, Aemon Targaryen. The Crown Prince spoke his part, along with his other officers, namely Prince Viserys and Lady Visenya, both of who would be playing integral roles in the operation. The first part of the operation would call for a staged attack upon the Silver Serpent, involving primarily members of the royalist crew, and due to an earlier brawl at the brothel, fighting members of another pirate captain’s crew, who would no doubt be seeking retribution for their captain’s capture. Simple enough, and the crux of it all, was for Seran of Lys to play the role of the prisoner, but no mere prisoner, but the Crown Prince himself.
Aerion and Lyvia were delegated their specific duties, with their own set of orders to follow and see completed. ‘That explains why Seran was so quiet earlier…’ Aerion thought to himself, as Lyvia and himself made their way back to their post. Still, Aerion made his way over to say hello to Seran, and say a few things. << Lyseni bastard Valyrian, represented with >> “Seran, I promise not to take too much of your time. I wish you good luck and Godspeed, you are very brave in what you are volunteering to do. << ‘If there is anything I can do to help you, let me know my friend. Don’t feel like you are alone in this.’>> I will see you again once the operation is in full swing. Take care.” Aerion bowed his head politely to Seran, waiting for a response if there was one, before moving back towards his assigned position upon the Silver Serpent.
The shell game was to begin in an hour, the false “prince” was being dressed up in some of Crown Prince Aemon’s finery, while the rest of the crew prepared themselves for the coming skirmish, and resulting ambush to happen later at the Maiden’s Men base of operation. During that lull, Ser Aerion, surrounded by Lady Lyvia and two dozen or so fellow royalists, the question was brought up by a Dragon’s Tooth archer. “Ser Aerion, we’ve all noticed you don’t really like Ser Ellion… what’s up with your distaste for him. He is a nice guy, plus a fun person to drink and gamble with. He is also a knight like you, not to mention a competent swordsman… tell us, why do you not like the man?” This question was followed by a number of mumbled “Yes’s and Tell us.” Aerion set aside his sword that he was honing to a razor sharp edge, and spoke softly, as not to be heard outside of the circle of troops about him, or so he hoped. “I will leave it at this, he walks a path that brings dishonor to his name. If any of you are bastards, then you may understand. He’s a womanizer, a man whore. No other way to put it. No doubt some of you have heard the rumors about the man, but I for one find such actions unbecoming of a knight and the son of a noble lord. Call it a personal disgust for those who would risk bringing children into the world without regard for them or the women they slept with. Let us talk of happier things now, less personal matters, shall we?” Aerion finished, smiling disarmingly to those about him, before returning to sharpening his sword.
For the remaining hour, Aerion let the others talk, while he focused his mind and body for what was to come. His sword was sharp and ready, while his mind and was now at peace, prepared for the conflict that was sure to take the lives of both rebel and loyalist alike. Thus, the ship’s bell was sounded, and the first phase of the operation began. True to his word, Crown Prince Aemon had predicted the retaliatory strike of Goldbeard’s crew, the pirates swarming in to attack and try to seek revenge for their captain. The fight was brutal but short, the pirates soon falling back and fleeing once they realized the tide of battle had clearly turned against them. More than half of these men now lay unconscious, dead, or dying, but their defeat serving its purpose for Lady Visenya’s mission to gain the trust of the Captain of the Maiden’s Men. Aerion took a small cut to his right cheek, but other than that, he was unscathed. The same could not be said for the sailors and men-at-arms who lost their lives in the melee. All Aerion could do was pray that the Seven would watch over their souls and guide them on their next journey.
Aerion felt sorry for Seran, who was now bruised up and bloodied, having to look the part of a captive prince who put up a fight. He would certainly have a black eye, plus a swollen lip for a number of days, if not a few weeks. Both Aerion and Lyvia walked over to see Seran off, as well as Lady Visenya and Lord Bolton. “Seran, take care, and do your sister proud. Perhaps you can get lucky and earn a home for the both of you. Lady Visenya, I wish you luck and the protection of the Seven. We will be backing you up in the next battle, mayhaps our swords shall defend one another my lady. Good luck.” Aerion paused, and then looked to Lord Bolton, “I hope you find your brother Lord Bolton. Good luck.” Lady Lyvia spoke her part too, smiling at Seran and the others who would be going in under the guise of sellswords, “You all make sure not to take all the glory and fighting, some of us are itching to settle old debts.” Lyvia bowed her head, before backing away to rally up with Crown Prince Aermon’s party. Ser Aerion fancied one last look back, waving goodbye to Lady Visenya and Seran, before too making his way to Crown Prince Aemon.
The Crown Prince spoke to his attack party, briefing them all on the situation that they would be entering. Thanks in part to an inside contact, a woman named Layali, enemy troop numbers were known, with both the main entrance as well as a disused rear entrance that would serve as their means of breaching and attacking the enemy. The party upon entering the enemy hideout would be split in two, with Prince Rhaegar leading a party to the rear of the building and also searching for Arak Snow, bastard brother of Lord Bolton, while Prince Aemon himself would lead the assault onto the hideout from the front, where Lady Visenya would already be in position. The main part of the plan was to capture, or kill the leader of the Maiden’s Men. Aerion was curious about the necessity of outright killing everyone in there, as to him, they were sellswords, mercenaries, and not true rebels. They fought for money, not for king and realm. Hopefully, Aerion thought, they would offer surrender to their foes, and perhaps learn what they could from the living, rather than the dead.
Crown Prince Aemon finished all he had to say, wishing the troops good luck, before dismissing them from formation and ordering the go ahead to begin the operation. Ser Aerion and Lady Lyvia found themselves in the company assigned with Crown Prince Aemon, along with the likes of Lady Taria Greyjoy. Aerion himself had never really spoken with her aside from a hello or a polite nod, but seeing as the two were in close formation together as the party made its way to the Maiden’s Men hideout, Aerion decide to try and strike up some conversation with the young woman. “Lady Greyjoy, we’ve never been properly introduced, but now seems like a good of a time as any. I am Ser Aerion Goldfyre. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seems like we are going to be marching into a tight and hectic fight. I wish you good luck and safety when we join combat. Myself and Lady Lyvia will be fighting together, if you wish to fight alongside us. No sense in rushing into combat by oneself.” Ser Aerion paused, as the party rounded a corner, drawing ever closer to their destination, then continued speaking in a friendly yet quiet tone. “Anyhow, I don’t doubt you know how to fight and look after yourself, but, we are all fighting for the same cause and crown, might as well team up, see what we can do together that might be difficult alone. If we make it through this, I’d be honored for you to join Lady Lyvia and myself for a victory feast, if time permits such. Take care Lady Greyjoy, may your Drowned God watch over you, and if you allow it, may the Seven look after you as well.” Aerion smiled at Lady Greyjoy, listening to what she had to say, if anything, before nodding his head and refocusing back to the mission, the party was almost to the hideout.
The loyalist forces rounded the final corner of the dilapidated rows of buildings, finding themselves staring at a far better maintained building, what looked to be a warehouse at one time, with a residence built atop it for whoever once owned it. From here, the party split in two, Crown Prince Aemon leading his troops to the front, and Prince Rhaegar taking his party to the rear. The building was fortified, but not impregnable. At long last, swords were drawn, arrows knocked, and spears readied, all in anticipation for the coming battle between sellswords and loyalists. Aerion and Lyvia followed the Crown Prince, who once in position, held his right hand aloft, then let it fall in a fast cutting motion, to which the Dragon’s Teeth archers fired their arrows, taking out the five guards who were moments ago guarding the front entrance. The men-at-arms rushed the door, finishing off any survivors, before preparing for the front door to be bashed down and allow the loyalists to swarm in. Aerion and Lyvia shared a looked with one another, clasped hands together in a show on camaraderie, before they too crossed the threshold into the hideout of the Maiden’s Men.
Things progressed quickly, with Crown Prince Aemon’s party spilling into the cavernous front room of the building, where a fight had already broken out between the Maiden’s Men and Lady Visenya’s party. The initial shock and surprise of the attack had worn off, only for it to be reignited with the arrival of Prince Rhaegar’s party, who cut down a few sellswords unawares. All around Aerion and Lyvia, the fighting began to disintegrate from an organized defense to a chaotic fight for both survival and escape for the sellswords. Aerion locked swords with a grizzled looking veteran sellsword, fighting him back for a few moments, before Lady Greyjoy cut the man down, and perhaps saving Aerion’s life. But there was little time for thanks, Aerion nodding quickly, before pressing the attack once more against another group of sellswords, whose numbers were slowly dwindling. Lady Lyvia cut down two men, before join Aerion at his left side, helping to drive back the wavering sellswords.
Aerion ended up finding himself alongside Lady Visenya as she fought two sellswords, to which he helped her defeat, giving the men clean deaths, before smiling at her and quickly saying a few words, “You look rather beautiful as a dashing pirate captain my lady… I can only wonder what you look like in a ball gown. Maybe one day I can be so lucky as to dance with you.” Aerion quickly dodged sideways, and was drawn away with combat, another sellsword trying to cut his way to freedom. Aerion lept backwards, the man driven back, searching for another way out, only for him to be cut down by Ser Malik Towers, clearing a path to the Captain of the Maiden’s Men for Ser Malik. From across the room, came a string of curses from Lord Bolton, which drew Aerion’s attention for a few moments. Lord Bolton was apparently drunk, due to his trouble trying to free his weapon from its scabbard. Perhaps by the Light of the Seven, Lord Bolton pulled his whole scabbard and sword free, blocking the sellsword’s attack, before being lost from sight in the melee.
Aerion took the moment of being unburdened from combat to take stock of the unfolding events. The sellswords had been pushed back into two shaky shield formations, each one barely holding back the tide of the loyalist forces that had surprised them. Those caught out in the open were either being cut down quickly, trying to fight their way to their comrades, or had thrown down their weapons in the hopes of surrender. The Captain of the Maiden’s Men herself had been cornered herself, with only two personal guards slightly behind her, her other retinue lying dead on the floor between her and Ser Malik and Ser Ellion. Aerion felt a pang of regret for this woman, as she stood there, nervously gripping her drawn sword. The fear on her eyes and face was visible for those that cared to look, her eyes dark and foreboding, while her blonde hair was starting to become undone from the fighting she had participated in. This felt wrong, just the wholesale slaughter of these mercenaries, of sellswords that Aerion himself had once been, only a few months ago.
Perhaps it was the Father’s guiding hand, or that of the Mother, but Aerion felt the internal presence of both mercy and justice at the same time, and quickly darted across the room to stand shoulder to shoulder with both Ser Malik and Ser Ellion. Aerion spoke quickly and pleadingly to the two fellow knights, “Ser Malik, Ser Ellion, pray by the Seven, and stay your hands, if only for a moment. You both are anointed knights, sworn to the same vows, the same beliefs and tenants, stay your hands and offer mercy to these sellswords. Give them a chance to surrender, to yield honorably rather than they be cut down. Allow me to ask for their surrender, for her surrender.” Aerion hoped that these two knights would at least delay their intentions to cut down their enemy, for Ser Ellion to look past Ser Aerion’s disdain for him, for them to just listen, yet if they did not, Aerion still spoke the next part, loud and clear, no malice, no anger, a tone of polite but firm intent.
“Captain, your men have fought honorably, as have you, but you cannot win this fight. Spare the bloodshed, for your men and our own, and yield. There is no sense in dying for some money and coin, for the rebel side. You are a sellsword, a professional soldier for hire. You can see this is a lost cause, a battle you need not die for. I may not know you, nor you know me, but I swear to you, even if you have your doubts and reservations, that by my vows as a knight, my time as a former sellsword, that should you yield, should you surrender honorably, no harm will come to you or your men. Please, my lady Captain, save yourself and the Maiden’s Men for another fight, and another time. Yield, and live another day. I swear it to you, no harm will come to you, or by the Seven, I will avenge any injustice done here today. Captain, you are not a rebel, and should not face the punishment of a rebel, lay down your arms, and tell your men to do the same… or, should you wish to fight and die, I will pray for your soul and give you your last rites.” With that, Aerion had said all he wished to, and hoped that his fellow loyalists would hold back long enough to receive an answer, and that the Maiden’s Men and their captain would yield.
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