35. Escape

Stannon had always planned for contingencies. Through one of his spies embedded within the Velaryon household, he had learned of the hidden passages beneath Hightide, leading to a secret cove where a handful of sleek, fast ships were kept hidden. These were meant for the Velaryons in case they faced any dangerous situations, but tonight, they would serve a different purpose.

Stannon wasted no time and retrieved a small parchment from his belt, hastily wrote a message, and after warging into Ghostwing, he guided it to the window of the hall.

The message he wrote was:

——

The enemy is waiting on Driftmark. The waters are blocked, and we cannot escape without a distraction. I ask of you something no leader should ask of his men.

Cause chaos. Set fire to the docks, create confusion. Make them believe we are trying to escape through the main routes. Distract them, buy us time.

—Stormblade

———

Stannon knew what he was asking. Creating a distraction at the docks while he and a few others slipped away meant certain death for his men. The Lannisters wanted him dead, and they wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone on his ship to make sure he didn't get away. His men were strong warriors, but they weren't fools. They would know their chances of survival were low.

He sighed and held the parchment tightly before forcing himself to let go. He couldn't afford doubt or hesitation. He knew he was sacrificing his men by asking them to risk their lives for his escape. But there was no other choice. If he hesitated, they would all die.

Ghostwing, his raven, sat on the windowsill, staring at him with sharp black eyes. Using their bond, Stannon guided Ghostwing forward and tied the parchment to its leg with steady hands. The raven didn't move, as if it understood the importance of the message.

"Go," Stannon whispered.

Without hesitation, Ghostwing spread its wings and flew off into the sky. Stannon closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on their connection, guiding the bird to the ship in the docks.

After he sent off the raven, he focused on the another matter that he had to handle—the guards outside the hall. Seven of Stannon's loyal men were out there, stationed to stand guard. Unfortunately, there were also eight Velaryon guards standing outside, blocking their escape.

Stannon did not waste another moment. He drew his sword from its sheath, turned around, and with a single, decisive stroke, beheaded Monford Velaryon. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, the lord's body crumpling lifelessly.

There was no time for elaborate strategies. He turned to Ragnok and Hilda, who had a somber expression on their face.

"We have to cut through them," Stannon said, voice low but resolute. "No time for subtlety."

Ragnok grunted, rolling his shoulders, while Hilda merely nodded, her blade already drawn.

Then he moved, throwing the doors wide open and charging at the unsuspecting guards. The element of surprise was brief but potent. The first Velaryon guard barely had time to react before Stannon's sword buried itself in his throat. A strangled gurgle escaped the man's lips before he collapsed.

Colen and the other Wildings outside, momentarily caught off guard, quickly recovered and sprang into action. Swords clashed, shouts rang through the hall, and the battle was on. Stannon fought with ruthless efficiency, parrying a strike before driving his blade into another foe's chest. To his left, Hilda fought with a deadly grace, weaving between enemies and cutting them down with swift precision. Ragnr, ever the brute, broke through their ranks like a storm, crushing a man's skull with the hilt of his sword before running another through.

The fight was short but brutal. Soon, all eight Velaryon guards lay, their blood colouring the entire floor red.

Stannon wasted no time and moved quickly. "Follow me!" he barked to the rest.

With Stannon's knowledge about the secret path, they quickly descended into the hidden passages beneath Hightide, going through dark, narrow tunnels damp with sea mist. The sound of distant waves grew louder as they neared the exit.

As Stannon and his men emerged from the hidden passage into the cove, the salty air filled their lungs. The sleek Velaryon ships swayed gently on the waves. Stannon had no idea whether they were the stongest of Velaryon ships, but he hoped that they were the fastest.

The crew aboard the largest ship had already taken notice of their approach. Murmurs of suspicion rippled through the sailors as they tightened their grips on weapons and tools alike. They were no fools; a group of armed men emerging from the hidden tunnels of Hightide could mean only one thing—trouble.

Stannon knew he had mere moments to act before the crew raised an alarm. Drawing himself up with the practiced authority of a prince, he walked forward, his blood-streaked sword still in hand.

"I am Prince Stannon Baratheon, son of King Robert Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne" His voice carried across the water, and the crew stiffened at his declaration. "Hightide has been attacked! The enemies struck swiftly and without mercy. Lord Monford Velaryon held them back, giving his life so that I may escape! His last command was clear: take me to safety at once!"

A murmur of disbelief spread through the crew, but there was fear in their eyes now—fear and uncertainty. Stannon pressed on, voice laced with urgency and his persuasion skill in full effect.

"Would you defy your lord's final wish? Would you dishonor the Velaryon name by hesitating in this moment of dire need?" He stepped forward, eyes scanning their faces. "You are men of the sea! You know the cost of hesitation when the storm rages. We must move now!" He gestured sharply behind him. "Every moment we waste gives our enemies a greater chance to catch us!"

The sailors exchanged nervous glances, the weight of Stannon's words pressing down upon them. He could see the struggle in their eyes—the desire to question, to resist, warring against their ingrained obedience to their lord's command. But fear was a powerful motivator, and Stannon wielded it masterfully. Of course he didn't forget to thank the system for his persuasion skill afterall it would definitely have been very difficult to convince them so quickly without it.

Just as Stannon was wondering whether he should raise the level of his persuasion skill, the ship's quartermaster, a grizzled man with silver threading his beard, stepped forward. "If Lord Monford Velaryon ordered it… then we will obey." He turned to his men. "Make ready to sail! Lower the gangplank!"

The sailors moved quickly, unfurling ropes and preparing the ship for departure. Stannon nodded approvingly, though his grip on his sword remained firm.

Stannon wasted no further time. With Ragnok and the others at his back, he ascended the gangplank, stepping onto the deck as if he had every right to be there.

He exhaled slowly. The first step of his escape was complete. Now, all that remained was to see it through to the end.

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