Chapter 2.1 The King of the Iron Islands

Wolfgang was frowning at a letter in his hands. He had expected something quite different in truth.

A few days ago he had sent a letter to Lord Wyman Manderly, the Lord of White Arbor and head of House Manderly. He had other titles, such as Keeper of the White Knife, Shield of Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of Manderly, and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand, but these were rather decorative.

The letter sent by the young man, on behalf of his mother, was to propose an engagement, of which Wolfgang himself, on the one hand, and the eldest daughter of Wylis Manderly, Wyman's firstborn, were parties. The girl's name was Wynafryd, the same age as the Dustin offspring.

The problem is that the raven that arrived was not from House Manderly, but from those whom Barbrey Dustin hated with all his heart; House Stark, and its contents were very much related to the events that had just transpired regarding House Greyjoy,

Quellon Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke, wished to strengthen the ties of the Iron Islands with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. His Ironborn remained neutral during most of Robert's Rebellion, but Quellon decided to rise in support of Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, after the Battle of the Trident. However, Lord Quellon died in battle at Mander, while attacking the Dominion near the end of the war.

Those events were already past, and who ruled the Iron Islands was his eldest son and successor, Balon Greyjoy, who had a very different attitude towards the Seven Kingdoms than his father.

Since House Greyjoy had only joined the rebellion near its end, they did not suffer great losses like the other Great Houses, and apparently Balon Greyjoy had spent the last few years strengthening himself as much as possible; preparing to make an attack.

Wolfgang had his slight suspicions. Much news reached his ears about looting in and around Cape Eagles, in the Riverlands. They were territories of House Mallister, but they had failed to protect their people, or that would be the obvious, but these bandits, who, though camouflaged everyone knew to be the iron sons, were not too common.

The looters did not take the riches, not that there were many, nor the women of the villagers. They took their wood. This wood was, evidently, to build ships, and lots of them. After these plunders, in which, though not the main purpose, quite a few men ended up dead, and women raped, many settlers heard the news of Barrowton, and of its rapid development. Much migration came, oddly enough, from the south, and not just the north.

This was simply the explosion of an event that was bound to happen, and the letter brought grim news for the kingdom.

Beneath the ribs of Nagga, on the sacred island of Old Wyk, the priest Tarle "the Thrice-Drowned" crowned Balon with a crown of driftwood, as King of the Iron Islands.

Hoping to control the Sea of Dusk, Balon began his rebellion with the burning of the anchored Lannister fleet, a surprise attack on Lannisport in the western lands planned by his brother Euron and led by another brother, Victarion, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. Victarion threw the first torch at the flagship of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock.

Wolfang wore a small smile on his face. He had no connection to the Lannisters, but reading that their fleet had been burned, even if it was briefly and vaguely mentioned, was always a good thing. Let them fight their future enemies against each other and weaken. Young Dustin would welcome these moments with open arms.

Fortunately the iron sons did not attack the North, so the shores of the Barrowlands were not in danger; however, the shores were growing emptier with the migration to the city.

However, a dangerous river ran to the foot of Barrowton, with which the iron sons might raid, but the young man was confident of repelling them. Nor did the idea of creating a port occur to him; it was not feasible to trade. It was on the west side of Westeros, so it would be impossible to trade with Essos, and to the north there was no one else to converse with, there was only the south, and although the Lannisters or the Tyrells might be good targets, to reach them he would have to pass through the Iron Islands; it was unfeasible.

But back to the point, what made the young man's frown and smile disappear as he continued to read the letter was the obvious. Lord Eddard Stark, head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, by order of King Robert I Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Kingdom of Westeros, as well as the head of House Baratheon of King's Landing, had called the banners.

Wolfgang gave a whistle, and one of the guards questioning the door entered his office.

"My lord."

"Bring me Ser Morrent" Wolfgang ordered, and after a few minutes, the one who had requested arrived.

"My lord, I understand you requested my presence."

"That's right, Ser Morrent. A face from Winterfell has arrived" said the young man, and the knight frowned. He was knighted thanks to Willam Dustin, and like all the more traditional servants of House Dustin, they disliked the Starks.

Wolfgang proceeded to explain the situation to him, and Morrent's frown began to deepen.

"What are we going to do sir?"

"I'm certainly not going to sacrifice our men in this foolish rebellion, not the ones I've been training for years... I want you to take about 500 men, try to get as many of them as possible from the newcomers, ideally those from the south."

"Only 500 men my lord? It's... obvious that we are intentionally sending few levies."

"I know, but I don't care, if Eddard Stark questions you about anything, say that with the new crops the lands are full of brigands. I will send a letter to Lord Ryswell to do the same and confirm our story. Eddard Stark owes my mother quite a bit, and he knows it, which is why he is always rather lax with taxes, which, despite all our improvement, have not increased more in his coffers. He was testing his limits, and now I understand what kind of man he is."

"Sire... is it right to take advantage of Lord Stark's kindness?" questioned Ser Morrent, this did not seem right for him at all. This was not how the Northmen did things.

"It is not taking advantage of his kindness, Ser Morrent, it is collecting the debt House Stark owes my mother and House Dustin."

"I... understand. So it shall be done sir."

Wolfgang never liked Ser Morrent much, he didn't seem to appreciate his new outlook on things, but it was also good to have people like him. He knows that Ser Morrent had unquestionable loyalty to House Dustin, on the same level as Beron. It's just that Morrent's loyalty was more to the symbolism of the house, while Beron's was to the people; a much more earthly loyalty.

However, his favorite was a much younger servant of his. He still remembers how he found him in the garbage, starving. His eyes were wild, and promised pain; he was completely a beast, thirsty for blood and hatred.

"What is your name?" he remembers asking him, when he saw the boy covered in blood; it wasn't his of course, it was from bandits who had tried to steal his belongings and rape him.

He did not find him directly in Barrowlands, but rather in The Rills. It was some years ago, when, with his mother, he was on his way to visit his grandfather and uncles.

"No, never mind" he said after a while, looking into those eyes with a smile. He could hear her let out a wild growl. "What are you, a dog? Well, you look like you need to be tamed, like any beast" smiled young Dustin, and walked over to the little guy.

They were about the same size, at the time Dustin was seven, the boy in front of him probably eight.

Beron watched from behind with a scowl and sword ready in his grip, but the little 8 year old seemed unarmed, so he let his Lord act, despite being so young. By that point the crops had only just begun, and Beron had only been training the soldiers for half a year; though by that time none of them could afford to feed on meat.

The nameless one was defensive, and lunged at Wolfgang, but, despite his small body, he was able to dodge him without trouble and disarm the young man, putting him in a rather clumsy headlock that threatened to fracture his arm.

He struggled for quite some time; a young man's body is more flexible, and the wrench was less effective. Also, despite having vast training from his past life, Wolfgang was not used to such a small body; his techniques came off a bit clumsily. In the end, the nameless one began to squeal in pain, and became increasingly docile.

"So..." said Wolfgang, giving a weary sigh. "Now we can understand each other better" he added. "I asked you your name, but you'd better not tell me. You are mine now, and as part of my property, just as the owner names his dog, I will give you a name. You will be... Amon, my new hunting dog. I expect you to be obedient."

Wolfgang recalled the scene with a smile, the young man had grown up well, but he was totally savage and only listened to his orders. Lord Dustin knew how to deal with such creatures, malevolent beings created by the devil, thrown into the world to only cause chaos; true demons. So before he could become the true incarnation of evil, Wolfgang took it upon himself, just upon his return to Barrowton, to savagely torture the boy; to engrave the fear of his person into every fiber of his being and every bone in his body; absolute terror. The beast had been tamed.

Wolfgang wanted to create a group of beasts, each worse than Ser Gregor Clegane, who could burn the world if he commanded them to; absolute loyalty and no scruples whatsoever, who would do all the dirty work that needed to be done. Amon was the first, but he had recruited a couple of others. The problem was that it was not easy to find this kind of profile.

However, someone caught Wolfgang's eye, and that was when his good uncle, not by blood of course, visited Barrowton, to leave his son and heir in his mother's care; Roose Bolton.

The man was... no, it wasn't the time to think of him at the moment, but he had been the person who made the reincarnated one act cautious; he could sense that he was someone dangerous. He didn't know any Starks yet, but he doubted they were half as dangerous as the head of House Bolton was.

What was important was one of the envoys who came with him, an outcast. He was also a boy, two years older than Amon, and three years older than Wolfgang. "Reek" they nicknamed him, because of his strong smell. He certainly looked disgruntled, and that is because he was pushed aside by everyone, a true outcast. The reason for this is that... he always smells horrible, a disgusting thing.

Reek bathes three times a day, but still the pain was considerable, but Wolfgang didn't mind that too much; in fact, he liked it. He could see from his condition that the young man was deranged, and it was the kind of wild beast he needed. He asked his uncle if he could keep the servant, and though he got quizzical looks all around; Roose Bolton agreed to hand over the now 12 year old.

Reek trained alongside Amon, and as part of the group; he suffered his same treatment. He feared Wolfgang horribly, yet young Dustin could sense another feeling, a deep admiration, despite being tortured, that Reek felt for him. It was certainly stranger than Amon himself.

Wolfgang simply shook his head, he was still too young to do much; to begin to imbue himself in the minds of all his soldiers as an imposing figure to look up to.