Dacey led Jon down the spiralling stairs into the dank depths where the Ironborn imprisoned their captives. The oppressive humidity and putrid stench in the air were enough to quash anyone's appetite. If there was one thing you could always count on finding aboard an Ironborn ship, it was a prison for their thralls.
Over the past few years, Jon had painstakingly assembled a special crew from scratch handpicking skilled and trusted warriors from Winterfell, Bear Island, and a few neighbouring holdings. All of them underwent rigorous training in a nearby secret place to excel in sneak attacks and naval combat. And as they gathered experience they have become somewhat of an expert in hunting down Ironborn vessels to bolster Bear Island's fleet.
Hardly a month went by without their successful pursuit and capture of one or two ships and of course, most of the credit went to their scout Cory, Dacey's orca. So while the years had been very helpful in boosting Bear Island's nonexistent fleet, hunting Ironborn also had a very repulsive side effect.
The whole crew got to see first-hand all kinds of atrocities committed by the Ironborn against their thrall prisoners and so-called Salt wives. And after the first few times, Jon had learned to suppress his disgust, though he avoided the prison whenever possible. Seeing those atrocities was also one of the reasons Jon's crew never hesitated in completely massacring any Ironborn crew they come across.
"It is right down here..." Dacey said as she lowered her head due to the low ceiling and entered the gloomy prison, with Jon following closely behind.
As Jon descended, he caught sight of one of his men, Harold, standing guard outside a grimy, wet wooden prison divided into three cells. Currently, only one of the cells held two girls—an older one, dressed as a maid, who regarded him with vigilance and fear in her eyes, and a younger girl who clung to the older girl in fear as they entered.
The sight of the place and the knowledge that it likely held numerous female prisoners was too disheartening for Jon but he had accepted long ago that he was in a place where things like these were happening all around the world every single hour.
Jon was relieved to realize that his initial assumption was incorrect—the younger girl couldn't be Margaery since she appeared closer in age to Sansa.
Dacey noticed him standing there, observing the captives and offered an explanation. "The older girl serves as a maid in their household. It seems she shielded the Tyrell girl and convinced the Ironborn scum that they could fetch a higher ransom from the Reach if she remained 'unspoiled,'" Dacey concluded, her face contorted in disgust.
Jon nodded before he suddenly turned toward the massive Man who was standing beside the door with a sad look in his eyes and asked in a teasing tone, "Why didn't you unlock the door, Harry? Afraid of a little girl, are you?" He was trying to ease the mood a little.
"Of course not," Harry retorted immediately. He was Harold, a former fisherman from Bear Island, and also the one who Jon had warned last night not to shout before attacking. He was somewhat of a comic relief for the group Jon had created even though he was one of his most fierce warriors, he was also a little stupid so they always made fun of him.
"I think, Jon, he's still bothered by that story you shared by the fire a few nights ago," Dacey whispered loudly, grinning. "You know, the one about the House of Black and White and how they send young ones as assassins. He probably thinks the little girl is some kind of assassin."
"N-No! I didn't mean—I mean—Ugh," Harold stumbled over his words, flustered by their teasing. With Jon and Dacey snickering at him, he hastily excused himself, "I'll go check on... some things," and made his way back up the stairs. Jon heard a small snort of amusement coming from the prison, and when he looked, he saw a pair of eyes peering at him from the maid's protective embrace.
"Well then..." Jon said, waving his hand toward the prison. It was a signal for Dacey to open the door, but she remained motionless, causing Jon to look at her quizzically.
"What? Don't give me that look," Dacey shrugged. "I don't have the key. Do you think I searched every person I killed?"
"Ahem... Anyway, let's consider our options," Jon dismissed the awkwardness, resting his chin in his hand as he pondered. "If I'm correct, the keys should likely be with the person killed closest to here, and the bodies shouldn't have been disposed of yet—"
Dacey rolled her eyes and strode toward the door. Taking her mace from her waist, she smashed the lock in a single strike, causing the maid to gasp in surprise.
"—Or you can do that," Jon finished with a weak smile as Dacey smirked at him. Shaking his head, he addressed the maid, "Come on. Let's go somewhere cleaner and brighter than here, and we'll get you something to eat."
...
It all began with that cursed Starkhorse.
Tara could still recall that day vividly, as clear as the flowing waters of the Mander. Little Lady Margery had been to the market at the bustling port for a normal excursion, she was browsing through the goods that the merchants bought to Highgarden when she overheard a merchant from Lannisport gushing about a marvellous invention known as the Starkhorse
Like the child she was, Margery approached the merchant and bombarded him with questions. Learning that it was a wooden horse suitable for riders of all ages, even little girls like her, she was overjoyed as she had been having difficulties riding a horse and was very envious of her brother Loras who was a natural.
Immediately, she expressed her desire to purchase one, but her excitement was dashed when the merchant explained that only a limited number of Starkhorses were available in Lannisport, his hometown and that they were a speciality primarily made in the North so it was difficult to get a hand on them as the few people who had them weren't very keen on selling them.
But Lady Margery, it seems was adamant this time so the moment she went back to Highgarder she immediately threw a rare tantrum at her father and Lord Mace, bless him, was in polite words, a pushover and immediately agreed with his daughter's request without giving it much thought.
So two ships were arranged to be sent toward Lannisport immediately so that they could buy the Starkhorse thingy his daughter wanted. Little Alla, Margery's friend and aspiring lady-in-waiting, who had longed for travel, accompanied her. Tara, Lady Alerie's maid, joined them as well.
And as for the reason they didn't even think of sailing straight to North to buy these Starkhorses, where they were made, was an obvious one, 'Ironborn'.
Any ships that wanted to sail from Reach, Dorne or Lannisport to the North had to go through the chain of Islands where every single Noble family had fleets of ships that they liberally used to pirate, even though at the moment they didn't do it too openly due to the recent war.
And the journey by road from Reach to the North would be long and arduous and more importantly incredibly expensive. It was also one of the reasons there was no trade between these kingdoms. So they only had one option from the beginning.
And for a few days, everything was fine, the weather was good, the winds were in their favour and they were making good time for Lannisport but it was then that they ironically encountered three Ironborn ships, the very thing they were avoiding.
Out of nowhere, just before sunset one day, the Ironborn descended upon them. The Ironborn were known across the world for their speed so the captain of the ship knew escape was futile. Gambling on a battle, he hoped to defy the odds, but alas, they lost that wager.
Every single warrior present on their ships fought valiantly to their last breath and Ironborn who hadn't been expecting such resistance incurred huge losses both in people and ships. It was also probably the reason they slaughtered every single person without taking any thralls in their anger.
Tara and little Alla were the only survivors, having hidden themselves during the onslaught. Yet luck was not entirely on their side and they were found out soon after the fight was over. Fortunately(Or Unfortunately) for Tara, the Captain found her pretty enough to consider taking her as a salt wife and little Alla was spared because of Tara's urging him about her prize as a ransom as she had tricked him into believing that she was the daughter of Lord Mace.
Thus, Tara found herself imprisoned, enduring the aftermath of her ordeal at the hands of the captain. She sought solace in comforting little Alla, succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume her.
Then, two days later in the dead of night, the sounds of battle reached her ears. She had been equally hopeful and scared at that time, hopeful that somehow their Home had gotten news of their peril and sent a rescue party and scared that the attacking party could just be another band of pirates, potentially even more brutal.
When the towering Northerner entered the prison cell, Tara braced herself for the worst. However, to her surprise, the giant figure merely surveyed the surroundings before inquiring about her identity. Upon learning that she hailed from the Reach and had a little girl from House Tyrell with her, he immediately sent the information up the chain. And a minute later entered the Man or rather the teen along with the woman named Dacey, and almost immediately he got them freed from their prison.
And now she was in the Captain's room standing along with little Alla who was trying her best to look like a noble in front of the teen who seemed to be the leader around here and beside him stood the woman Dacey from before, a beautiful but a wild woman who was too comfortable with a mace for Tara's taste.
///
Find out what happens next in the next episode of Dragon Ball—*Cough* I mean The Warg Lord at: pat reon.c om/lazywizard