Daughter of the Kraken

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Clay's patience was finally rewarded. At dawn the next day, the great bronze bell of Seagard rang out loudly, its booming echoes spreading across the city. This bell, reserved for warning the citizens of approaching enemies, had not been sounded lightly. Its toll could only mean one thing—the Ironborn had come.

Seagard stood as the first line of defense against the Ironborn for the Riverlands, a vital stronghold. When that bell tolled, there was no doubt what it meant.

Yet, despite the alert, Lord Jason Mallister showed no sign of panic.

Of course not. Behind him stood over five thousand seasoned cavalrymen, men brave and skilled in battle. Even if the entire Iron Fleet came ashore, they would be hard-pressed to break through such a force. Not on land, not against these men.

Still, as he stood atop the high tower of his keep, gazing out over Ironman's Bay, a subtle unease stirred within him. Something about the situation did not feel right.

Yes, there were sails on the sea, unmistakably those of the Ironborn. The shape and design were clear, longships built for speed and raiding. Lord Mallister, well-versed in such matters, trusted his eyes. But after observing for a long time, he came to a puzzling realization.

There was only one ship.

"Is that it? Just a single ship?" Lord Jason Mallister turned to the soldier beside him, a guard on duty. The Northern lords who had stayed within the city had also arrived, having heard the bell, and now stood crowded upon the tower to see for themselves.

The young soldier, now the center of attention of so many lords, seemed nervous. His voice trembled slightly as he answered his lord's question in a low voice, almost muttering:

"Yes, my lord… just that one ship…"

With a sharp smack, Lord Mallister gave the soldier a light slap across the helm. Though the sound was crisp, the blow was not heavy.

"What kind of fool rings the bell for one ship?" Lord Mallister scolded, clearly annoyed. "Does that look like an attack? Our own fleet here in Seagard could sink it with ease!"

The soldier lowered his head, accepting his lord's words without protest. Yet among the lords gathered on the tower, a few caught the faint murmur that slipped from his lips as he spoke under his breath:

"You were the one who said to ring the bell whenever Ironborn appeared in the bay…"

"Out of my sight!"

Embarrassed, Lord Mallister waved the unlucky soldier away with a scowl. Then, turning back to the gathered Northern lords, he forced a sheepish smile.

"My lords, forgive the alarm. It seems we were startled for nothing. Still, I admit I do not understand why this single ship has come. Do any of you have an idea?"

The Northern lords exchanged looks among themselves. They were not ignorant of the Ironborn's plans to join the war. As the major powers of the North, they had heard the news. However, none of them knew the specifics quite as well as Clay, commander of the Western Host.

One of them, Lord Glover, stroked his thick beard, its hairs gone gray with age, and spoke with steady confidence:

"Lord Mallister, I say we let the ship dock. There is no danger in this. We are many here, and the main host lies just beyond the walls. A single ship can do no harm. To my mind, this ship has not come to fight. It has come to deliver a message."

The others nodded in agreement, and seeing that this was the shared opinion of his Northern guests, Lord Mallister did not object further. He ordered his men to allow the ship to dock, though with vigilance.

At the same moment, two riders of House Mallister, their armor engraved with the silver eagle of their house, spurred their horses and rode out through the gates. Their mission was to inform Clay Manderly, commander of the main force, of all that had transpired.

Whether they liked it or not, the final decision rested with Clay. The five thousand strong force answered to him, and only he could determine the proper course of action.

---

Out on the waters of Ironman's Bay, aboard the Black Wind, Captain Asha Greyjoy stood watching the port as the Mallister ships slowly parted to let her vessel pass. Her brow lifted slightly in quiet surprise.

It appeared that the lord of this town was no fool. He had not given the order for the few aging warships docked in the harbor to weigh anchor and drive her off.

That spared her a great deal of trouble. After all, at least in theory, she and these men now fought for the same cause. All of them had turned their blades against the Lannisters.

Yet the thought of that Northern noble from Winterfell still rankled in her heart.

It was not only that these Northerners, who so often prided themselves on honor, had dared to use her brother as a bargaining chip to force the Greyjoys into alliance. What stung just as deeply was the knowledge that her father continued to value her younger brother more. No matter what she achieved, it could never compare to the simple fact of the extra piece of flesh between Theon's legs. In her father's eyes, that alone made all the difference.

He had agreed to join the war, throwing the strength of the Iron Islands behind the North. That meant only one thing—he still intended to bring Theon back and name him as heir. There was nothing she could do to change that. In the eyes of their people, a son's right always came before a daughter's. No matter what she accomplished, Asha was left with nothing but anger and helplessness.

But Asha Greyjoy was not someone who would back down easily. She had volunteered to come here herself, to speak with the Northern commander face to face.

Before she set sail, Victarion Greyjoy had tried to stop her. He feared that the Northerners might detain her.

To this, Asha had replied,

"My brother is already in their hands. That is why we are joining them, to rob the Lannisters of their gold. But if they take me too, what then? Will you and my father just let them get away with it?"

Theon being held as a hostage was a problem left over from the past. Now that the Greyjoys had allied with the North, only a madman would think of imprisoning Asha Greyjoy.

She was not even the formal heir. Taking her hostage would only shatter the fragile alliance between the North and the Iron Islands. No sane man would make such a reckless move.

"Let's go. Bring her in."

Asha gave the order to her sailors, and the Black Wind slowly furled its sails. Under the watchful eyes of four or five Mallister warships, her ship drifted steadily toward the dock.

Once she stepped onto the wooden planks of the harbor, Asha paused in surprise.

A large group of nobles stood in the distance, all dressed in fine clothes, their eyes fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny.

After all, she was a kraken's daughter. Her eyes swiftly picked out several coats of arms among them. These were no common men. They were the high lords of the North.

Could it be that the Northern host had already gathered here?

That thought ran through her mind as one of the nobles stepped forward. He was a middle-aged man dressed in the same colors as the banner flying from the tower behind him. His tone was stiff, formal, and not the least bit friendly.

"Ironborn. State your name, and your purpose for coming to Seagard."

Although Asha Greyjoy carried a proud and unyielding spirit in her bones, she had no intention of arguing with this nobleman. Not at this moment.

She replied with blunt directness, her tone neither humble nor confrontational.

"I am Asha Greyjoy, daughter of Balon Greyjoy of Pyke. By my father's authority, I have come to speak with the commander of the Northern host. We must discuss our plan to take the field."

---

The message soon reached Clay, yet he made no move to enter the town. It mattered little to him whom the Iron Islands had sent. Whoever it was would have to come to him.

About half an hour passed before Clay received his guest inside his own command tent.

When the tall figure stepped inside, Clay's gaze instinctively swept upward from her wide hips and legs. He froze for a moment, caught off guard.

A woman?

Then it dawned on him. Of course, Asha Greyjoy was a woman. It was simply that his eyes had grown accustomed to the constant presence of rugged, unshaven men over these past days. The sudden appearance of a woman momentarily disrupted his composure.

While Clay observed her, Asha was also sizing him up. She had not expected the commander of the Northern army to be so young.

He looked no more than seventeen or eighteen. His height was already considerable, but the youthfulness that clung to him could not be hidden.

She also noticed that within the command tent, alongside the direwolf banner of House Stark, there hung another flag—one she did not recognize. It bore the symbol of a Merman.

That discovery intrigued her.

So, this young commander was not a member of House Stark?

That made things all the more interesting. Who was this young man who held command over such a fierce host of Northern cavalry?

She had witnessed it on her way here. These Northern lords clearly looked to him as their leader. Not one of them had spoken to her directly. They had left all decisions concerning her entirely in his hands.

"Please, have a seat, Lady Asha Greyjoy. This is a military camp. I am afraid these are the conditions we must endure."

Clay was the first to break the silence. He gestured toward a simple wooden chair to Asha's right, his voice calm and composed.

Asha did not offer thanks. With the ease of someone long used to command, she dropped herself into the chair, stretching her long legs out before her and resting them on a wooden crate nearby. She raised an eyebrow, her tone slightly teasing.

"Not going to introduce yourself, my young commander?"

"As you wish, Lady Asha Greyjoy."

Clay turned slightly and gestured toward the merman banner hanging behind him.

"Clay Manderly of White Harbor. I am the commander of this wing of the Northern army."

Asha was somewhat surprised. In her experience, young men of his age usually delighted in showing off. They would never settle for modesty, especially when a woman was present. They would puff themselves up, boasting as though they had already climbed the highest peak.

But when the man before her introduced himself, his words were short, curt, and entirely devoid of flourish. He offered no further elaboration, as though none of it mattered.

Asha was not willing to let it end there. She wanted to probe deeper, to see what kind of young commander he truly was. Perhaps she could even seduce him a little. She knew all too well the impulses that guided young men of his age.

She ran her fingers through her short hair, then rose from her seat. With measured grace, she walked around the table—which had clearly been constructed in haste—and came to stand beside him.

Clay did not move. He was uncertain of her intentions, but he felt no concern. The thought of danger did not even cross his mind. The strength of a witcher was not something to be taken lightly, let alone joked about.

He offered only a calm warning, his voice steady and without any trace of fear.

"Be careful, Lady Asha Greyjoy. In a place like this, if you fail to behave properly, no one can guarantee that you will leave alive."

At these words, Asha raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. This calmness only piqued her interest further in Clay Manderly. She found herself intrigued by this young commander's restraint and presence of mind. Slowly, she bent down and brought her lips close to his ear, her breath brushing against him softly.

"Is that all you have to say, Lord Clay Manderly? Do you truly have nothing more for me? After all, it is just the two of us in this room…"

Yet there was no sweet fragrance lingering in her breath, no faint perfume of a woman's presence. Clay's senses, honed to unnatural sharpness, pierced through the illusion and shattered the moment's intimacy. Asha Greyjoy, however, remained completely unaware of this detail.

Clay understood immediately that this woman was trying to seduce him.

He had to admit, purely in terms of appearance and figure, Asha Greyjoy was certainly above average. Her looks were striking, and her body possessed a commanding presence that hinted at both strength and independence. That kind of valorous spirit in a woman was no doubt appealing to many men.

But the problem was, Clay's mind was clear and sober.

He knew very well which women could be touched, and at what times. And more importantly, he knew when they absolutely must not be.

Asha Greyjoy's seduction had little to do with affection or desire. She saw him as young, assumed he thought with his lower body like most men his age, and was hoping to sway him. She wanted to manipulate him into influencing the Northern army's strategy in a way that would benefit House Greyjoy.

If he were to take her now and ride her like a horse under him, Clay was quite certain he would have no trouble overpowering her. He could put his hand to his chest and swear with absolute confidence that Asha Greyjoy would never be able to defeat him.

But what would the Northern noble lords think?

That was his true concern.

From any perspective, it was clear to Clay that he needed to maintain distance from this woman.

Still, Clay was no saint, untouched by desire. He simply had greater self-control than most. If his strength were to reach an even higher level, and Asha Greyjoy still dared to tease him, then she would have to be prepared to face the consequences of her actions—fully and without mercy.

"Enough of that, Lady Asha Greyjoy. Show some respect for where you are. This is a military camp, after all."

Clay gently pushed aside the hand that had slid onto his thigh. His tone remained calm, but it carried undeniable firmness.

Realizing that her little game had failed, Asha did not seem upset. She abandoned the act without complaint, clicked her tongue in mild annoyance, and turned away. Her long legs carried her back to her seat in a few easy strides.

"Well then, boy, it seems you are not a fool, to be sitting in this position."

Clay shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

"If you're only referring to my ability to resist your temptation, Lady Asha, then that would be a rather cheap way to earn this seat, don't you think?"

Asha Greyjoy gritted her teeth silently. This young man's words had a way of cutting straight to the bone.

It was true, of course. He had spoken nothing but the truth. But hearing it phrased so bluntly left her feeling rather displeased. She simply could not believe that this young man felt nothing at all toward women.

Then another thought occurred to her, one she had not considered before. A possibility she had overlooked.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She studied Clay Manderly's face more carefully, as though she had just uncovered a hidden truth.

Clay immediately noticed the strange look on her face. She was not even trying to hide the odd glint in her eyes. He could easily guess that she was letting her imagination run wild, jumping to absurd conclusions. But he had no interest in what she might be fantasizing about.

Instead, he steered the conversation back on track without hesitation.

"Lady Asha, let us return to the matter at hand. Why have you come here? What is it you wish to tell me?"

Recognizing that the previous exchange was now firmly behind them, Asha quickly adjusted her expression. Her posture, too, shifted ever so slightly, adopting a more formal demeanor as she sat straighter in her chair.

"Clay Manderly," she began, her tone more serious now, "I am here to discuss the specifics of this war. The nobleman you sent to us last time was far too vague. He did not explain things clearly."

"Such as?" Clay asked, his interest piqued. He leaned forward slightly, studying her with curiosity.

"Let me be frank. You used my brother Theon's life to threaten us, and that has left us deeply displeased."

"But that is our right, is it not?"

Clay interrupted her with a smile, a calm one that carried an undeniable confidence. He had no interest in the masked complaints and moral justifications people liked to toss around. They were meaningless to him.

"I am a soldier now," he continued. "So let us keep this efficient, Lady Asha. I need to know how many men you plan to send, from where they will land, and when the operation will begin. In return, I will share with you the general direction of our advance. But no specifics."

Asha ground her teeth once more. This man truly had a knack for infuriating others. Did he not care one bit for her noble status?

"Very well," she said finally. "I will be direct. The terms you Northerners offered were as follows: the gold in Lannisport will belong to us, and you will assist us in intercepting the Lannister reinforcements, ensuring they cannot return. Am I mistaken?"

Nodding slightly, Clay responded in his usual calm manner, "Yes, that was the original agreement we made before marching south from the Neck. Why? Do you have something else in mind?"

Asha let out a cold chuckle. "How convenient for you. We Ironborn spill our blood to stain the Lannisters' fortified castles, while you, who planned to go to war with them anyway, only need to block their reinforcements, something that was already part of your own strategy."

"Exactly. And isn't that perfectly reasonable?" Clay smiled, his tone nonchalant, as if this arrangement were the most natural thing in the world. "After all, Balon Greyjoy's son is in our hands. Why shouldn't the deal favor us?"

His words were casual and steady, with a calmness that bordered on arrogance.

As soon as he finished speaking, Clay's sharp witcher's senses caught the faint sound of teeth grinding in the quiet room. He reflexively checked his own mouth, only to confirm that the noise wasn't coming from him.

His gaze shifted with subtle amusement, settling on Asha Greyjoy's cheeks. There was a slight twitch in her jaw.

After holding herself back for a long moment, repeatedly telling herself to stay calm, Asha drew in a deep breath, doing her best to rein in her temper.

"Let me put this plainly," she said in a voice that tried to stay even. "What you're offering isn't enough. We are willing to help you stir up chaos inside the lions' den, but in return, once you defeat Jaime Lannister, the Northern forces must continue advancing into the Westerlands. You will join us in raiding and sacking every stronghold in that region."

She paused briefly, then added firmly, "And the Fair Isle will become our territory. On this matter, we expect the full support of the North."

Clay stroked his chin thoughtfully, quietly considering the new terms Asha Greyjoy had just laid out.

How should he put it? It wasn't entirely unreasonable. In fact, this aligned quite well with his own plans.

If they were to march south and take nothing along the way, how were they supposed to keep the morale of the conscripted Northern troops high?

They might hate the Lannisters, but not enough to risk their lives charging into battle for that hatred alone. Hatred was not enough to make men fight.

But if they were promised that conquering a castle meant seizing plenty of spoils—riches, food, valuables—that would be a different story entirely. That would give them a reason to fight with fervor.

As for the Isle of Fair, there was only the small Faircastle there. Not much to loot, really. The Ironborn were probably hoping to establish a southern base of operations, something to secure their position for future raids deeper inland.

But what did that have to do with the North?

Whether or not the North recognized their claim—well, that would be a matter of one simple sentence, spoken or unspoken, at the right time.

..

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[Chapter End's]

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