House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Chapter 133: Chapter 132 – The Fall of White Harbor (I)

While Maekar had already left King’s Landing riding Bahamut, Gael stood before a man in black leather armor with a fur cloak over his shoulders. She wondered if the man did not feel hot in those clothes.

He was none other than the current Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, Lord Ellard Stark.

The man was drinking his cup of wine with an unpleasant expression. “Not even the women of the North drink this weak stuff.” He spoke in a rough but calm tone.

“The women of the North are powerful, my lord.” Gael replied with a polished, elegant smile. She carried an aura worthy of a queen, especially her eyes, which had taken on a colder, more solemn quality.

Ellard noticed this and looked at the princess with an appreciative gaze. He drank all the wine at once and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his armor. The lord set the cup on the table and remarked calmly. “A strong woman bears strong men and women.”

A trace of sorrow flickered briefly through Gael’s eyes, but she hid it well, and Ellard did not notice he had touched a wound that had not yet healed.

“My husband left for White Harbor, but before departing, he asked me to tell you these words.” Gael spoke in a calm tone. “I will return the gift to House Stark; I ask only for the votes of your noble house and of the entire North, nothing more and nothing less.”

Ellard smiled; he liked how direct the prince’s words were. He hated wasting time on useless conversation.

“HAHAHHAHAH!” Ellard laughed and showed a wide grin, his face looking somewhat fierce because of his unkempt beard. “I like that. Your father insisted that the Gift be given to the Night’s Watch, but those fools could not protect the Gift, and the region was gradually abandoned.”

Perhaps another lord would not speak to the king in that tone, but Ellard was not one of those lords; he cared little whether the king might hear of his conversation with Gael. Perhaps it was a trait of the people of the North to defy those they thought weak or who made foolish decisions.

Gael smiled at the Lord of Winterfell’s words. Instead of the pretty, polite words that hid the greed of other lords, she preferred direct people like Lord Ellard.

“My prince will need a Master of Laws to command the City Watch of King’s Landing. If you’re interested, we would welcome your help in the future, Lord Ellard,” Gael said with a smile.

Maekar had not said anything of the sort, but knowing her husband would not mind her promising something, she still tried to bring the relationship between Maekar’s House Targaryen and Ellard’s House Stark closer together.

(Note: It is presumed that the City Watch falls under the jurisdiction of the Master of Laws. For some reason, it is not clear whether it is an institution fully tied to the Small Council, governed by the Master of Laws, or a private army of the Iron Throne.)

Ellard was surprised by the princess’s words and showed another smile, considered rather barbaric by southern standards. “It is truly an honor, but I must decline. The Starks are not suited to living in the south. Every time we march south, something bad happens.”

Gael was not surprised by Ellard’s words; if House Stark were interested in power, they would have long since sent some second sons to King’s Landing. However, there was no Stark in any important position. Perhaps they were the only great house not interested in the struggle for power in the realm’s capital.

“That’s a pity, but keep in mind that you and your descendants are always welcome.” Gael replied with a smile.

Ellard nodded. Although he did not care for power in King’s Landing, he was not foolish enough to refuse the friendship of House Targaryen and its possible future king. “House Stark thanks the Prince of Harrenhal for his promise and swears to vote for him, as will all the noble houses of the North.”

Hearing Ellard’s words, Gael showed a genuine smile, different from the elegant, noble smile from before. She took two cups and filled them with wine, gave one to Ellard, and kept the other for herself.

“A toast to victory in this Great Council.” Gael said, raising her cup and drinking it all at once, which made Ellard burst out laughing and imitate the princess, drinking the entire contents of his cup in one go.

“A toast to Maekar’s victory, the Warrior King,” Ellard said with a laugh. He truly admired Maekar. The boy was only fourteen years old, but he had already done things many men would never do in an entire lifetime.

He had conquered Dorne, destroyed the Triarchy, a powerful realm made up of three free cities, and was now fighting to become king.

Unlike Viserys, who had gained everything because he had Jaehaerys’s help, Maekar had worked hard to become king through his own efforts. This made Ellard admire Maekar, whom he considered a far better king than Viserys.

Seeing Ellard’s genuine praise, Gael was pleased. She liked hearing others admire and envy Maekar, for it showed he was no ordinary man but a true king destined for greatness.

“By the way, Lord Ellard, won’t you be taking part in the war?” Gael poured Ellard’s wine again and asked in a curious tone. Many had gone off to war, but most of the Lords of the North were in King’s Landing, with no intention of leaving.

“It’s not that we fear war, but we have no ships.” Ellard said in a calm tone. “Apart from a few houses of the North, we don’t have enough ships to carry an entire army, not to mention we’re not accustomed to fighting at sea.”

“Rather than waste our lives at sea, we’d prefer to stay in King’s Landing and defend the city should anything unforeseen happen.” Ellard said, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. He was uncomfortable with the North sitting idle in King’s Landing. He wanted to be on the battlefield, but he would not risk the lives of his own men over something as foolish as a thirst for battle.

Again, not to mention there weren’t enough ships to carry the entire army in the first place.

“It’s good to recognize one’s own weaknesses; it’s foolish to march straight to death knowing there will be nothing but needless sacrifice.” Gael said in a solemn tone. From Ellard’s words, she realized that if the North fought in a naval war, they would be slaughtered, since they had no experience or even a notable naval commander.

House Manderly might have a fleet of ships, but it certainly had no experience commanding a naval war as vast as the one currently underway.

Ellard looked at the princess and, seeing no disdain on her face, knew she was someone with a logical mind. The girl had a logical mind and preferred to endure shame rather than lose her life so foolishly. King Torrhen had done something similar and was called a coward; now he was doing the exact same thing.

In the end, reason overcame his emotions.

“I’m glad you think so. I hope you advise your king the same way you’re advising me now, my princess.” Ellard said with a smile.

“I will, though Maekar is someone more pragmatic and logical than I am.” Gael said with a laugh, thinking of her husband.

Looking out the window and seeing the sun setting, Gael stood up and spoke in a gentle tone. “I will take my leave, Lord Ellard. I hope to have the chance to speak with you again on another occasion.”

“It will be an honor, Your Grace.” Ellard replied, rising as well, showing his respect through his actions, not his words.

Gael smiled and left the room, leaving the Lord of the North in complete silence. Looking at the setting sun, Ellard’s expression turned calm, the smile on his lips fading.

“Corlys, I have waited long enough, and your son has not recovered; don’t blame me for breaking my promise.” Ellard murmured, feeling calm. He did not feel the least bit ashamed of breaking his promise. Had he known of Maekar’s existence sooner, he would have chosen the boy over Laenor himself, who was just a child.

———

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard

North, White Harbor.

White Harbor is located on the eastern bank of the White Knife, where the river empties into a fjord of the Bite. The city is clean and well organized, with wide, straight cobblestone streets that make walking easy. Its houses are built of whitewashed stone, with steep roofs of dark gray slate.

However, at this moment, flames were consuming part of the city. A pot of oil spun through the air and struck one of the houses, mirroring the fire in an instant. Fortunately, the city was mostly made of stone, so the damage caused by fire was minimal, but that was only for the houses.

The people, frightened by the flames and smoke, were now screaming in panic as everyone ran away from the fire and smoke. Some poor souls fell to the ground and were killed, trampled by the crowd. No one paid them any attention and simply fled in panic.

Theomore Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander, and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand, stood upon the city walls shouting orders to the soldiers.

“FIRE!!!!” At the Lord Marshal’s command, flaming arrows rained down upon the ships besieging the city by sea.

Looking at the vast number of ships before him, aged Theomore had gone rather pale. He was an eighty-year-old man, experienced, and the only lord in the entire North who truly knew how to command a fleet of ships in war, but that was exactly why he knew he was doomed.

Before him were at least eighty or a hundred warships!

It was a fleet so vast it would send chills through anyone who saw it. Logically, such a number of ships should have been spotted by the scout boats, but there had been no word until the Braavosi fleet was already right upon White Harbor.

But seeing the size of the fleet, Theomore understood why there had been no news from the scouts; no boat could have escaped a fleet that size.

“Has the raven already been sent to King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Harrenhal?” Theomore asked the soldier beside him, one of his many nephews who had stayed in White Harbor to protect the city from any attack.

Theomore hoped the raven would reach Harrenhal, the place closest to White Harbor at that moment. Princess Gael had a grown dragon and could help defend the city. Unfortunately, Theomore did not know that Gael was in King’s Landing at that time.

“Yes, Uncle, but it takes half a day or more for the raven to arrive, not to mention the wait for Princess Gael to get here. I daresay we’ll have reinforcements in about a day and a half.” Warrick Manderly replied in a tone full of regret.

A day and a half. Looking at the massive fleet before him, Theomore felt despair. They had no way to defend the city; not even the walls would stop the enemy from landing on the shore and attacking the city.

“Even if White Harbor falls, I will take half their army down with me!” Taking a deep breath, Theomore drew his sword and spoke to his nephew.

“Warrick, split the troops through the city’s narrow streets. We’ll use the city as a battlefield and turn that into our advantage.” Despite being eighty years old, Theomore was a determined man, still full of vigor.

It was no wonder the Manderly family was famous for having such a great number of descendants. When he was a middle-aged man, widowed, handsome, elegant, and courteous, even Queen Alysanne had wanted to marry off her most beautiful daughter, Viserra, to Theomore.

“Yes, Uncle!” Warrick replied loudly as he put on his helmet. There was nothing but determination on the twenty-year-old’s face.

–

One day later

White Harbor no longer looked as prosperous as before. The streets were stained with blood and corpses. Even so, House Manderly’s army formed shield walls in the narrow, tight streets. The smell of blood hung in the air alongside the salty scent of the sea.

On one of the most important streets of White Harbor, the one leading to House Manderly’s castle, New Castle, three hundred men bravely held back the Braavosi army from advancing. Behind them, a pile of corpses could be seen, lying on the ground. They were the friends, brothers, and fathers of the three hundred men protecting the castle.

Theomore could be seen wearing his blood-stained armor; the helmet on his head had a dent from an arrow, showing that the helmet had saved his life at least once in this battle.

Taking a deep breath, Theomore looked at Warrick, dead, with an arrow through his eye, and could not help but show a sorrowful expression. Of all his nephews and sons, Warrick had been the most talented with a sword. Besides that, he had been a good-hearted boy who would even help the common people when they needed it.

And yet, that same boy now lay dead on the cold ground after shielding him from an arrow.

Turning back to look at the three hundred exhausted men before him, Theomore rose after regaining a bit of his strength and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“MEN, DO NOT GIVE UP!!!!”

“OUR REINFORCEMENTS ARE COMING, PRINCESS GAEL, THE WINTER CHILD, IS COMING WITH THE MIGHTY DRAGON DREAMFYRE!!!!”

(Note: Gael is called the Winter Child for having been born in winter.)

Theomore’s words raised the army’s morale in an instant. Even without knowing how powerful Dreamfyre was, the word “dragon” represented the peak of strength in the world. That was enough to lift the army’s morale.

“LET’S KILL THESE FILTHY BASTARDS!!!”

“DEATH TO BRAAVOS!!!”

“THE PRINCESS IS COMING, YOU SONS OF BITCHES, YOU’RE GOING TO BE BARBECUE!!!”

The men roared as they pressed the shield wall against the Braavosi army that had invaded the city. They used spears to run through any Braavosi soldier standing before them.

Theomore was no different; he grabbed a spear from the ground and began skewering any fool who stood before him. As he had said before, he would die before he let Braavos take the city without suffering substantial damage.

On the other side, the Sea Lord’s Admiral of Braavos, Luke Algarsy, stared furiously at the city that had held out an entire day!

He could already imagine that, upon returning to Braavos, he would be reprimanded before the entire noble class of Braavos. He had failed to take a city as small as White Harbor, even with several times the number of soldiers and ships as the enemy.

To make matters worse, he knew he could not stay long, for he knew a dragonrider could arrive at any moment. Fortunately, the nearest dragonrider was in Dragonstone. Even if the dragon flew at full speed, it would take at least two days to reach White Harbor.

Luke did not know the true speed a dragon could reach. But that was not his fault; only House Targaryen, who possessed dragons, truly knew the real power of dragons.

As for the shouts of the enemy soldiers, he could speak the common tongue but was not fluent in it. Combined with the speed and the chorus of voices, it was hard to make anything out. But he simply assumed they were taunts and insults, which was normal in a war.

Anyone else could only estimate a dragon’s speed based on the stories they had heard before.

Looking at the shield wall before him, Luke wore a cold expression and spoke loudly.

“WHOEVER KILLS AN ENEMY SOLDIER WILL RECEIVE ONE HUNDRED GOLD COINS!!!” As soon as Luke’s voice spread, the eyes of the Braavosi soldiers turned red. One hundred gold coins were enough for a family to live comfortably and worry-free for years.

Combined with the mad excitement of the battlefield, these men turned into true animals who knew nothing but killing, all while smiling cruelly.

“KILL!!!!”

“KILL THEM ALL!!!”

“LONG LIVE BRAAVOS!!!”

The soldiers screamed at the top of their lungs and charged against the shield wall, trampling over the bodies of their own comrades. They did not seem to care and pressed forward without looking down.

——

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard