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Chapter 270: Farce of Rebellion
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 11:13:38 +0000 UTC“Is everyone here?” Dunstan Drumm asked as his son Donnel Drumm stepped into the cabin.
“Everyone's come except the folk from Harlaw, Blacktyde, and Pyke,” Denys Drumm replied, his voice brimming with excitement. “Even the Goodbrothers, Sparrs, and Merlyns of Great Wyk are here. That bitch’s actions these past few years have thoroughly enraged the leaders of the Iron Islands. Even Great Wyk, once her staunchest supporter, has turned against her. This time, victory is ours.”
A satisfied grin spread across Old Dunstan’s face. He stood, then led his son out of the cabin and into a small boat, rowing toward a large nearby longship.
Across the waters of Ironman’s Bay, more than a hundred ships, large and small, were anchored. Though this fleet was smaller than the one under Asha’s command, not all her ships remained by her side. The Seawolf Baelor, considered her most loyal hound, had already sailed off toward Bear Island with his men. At present, Asha had only around fifty ships with her, and fewer than three thousand warriors loyal to her cause.
By the time Dunstan boarded the ship where the gathering was taking place, the assembled lords of the Iron Islands were already deep in conversation. Their raised voices rang with fervor—each of them could sense the chance to finally bring down Asha Greyjoy.
As Dunstan pushed open the door to the cabin, he saw the heads of the Goodbrother, Sparr, and Merlyn families of Great Wyk standing near the entrance with their sons. The Lord of House Stonehouse from Old Wyk was in a heated argument with Alyn Orkwood. The Tawney family of Orkmont, the Sunderlys of Saltcliffe, and the Saltcliffs of Salt Shore stood nearby watching the scene unfold. Meanwhile, Lord Gylbert Farwynd and his son Gyles Farwynd sat curled in a corner, seemingly uninterested in the drama.
At that moment, Dunstan realized the situation wasn’t quite as he had expected. The argument between Sylvy Stonehouse and Alyn Orkwood looked ready to explode into violence—both had their hands on their weapons.
“Enough! Our enemy is that bitch in Pyke Castle, not the comrades who fight beside us!” Dunstan strode between the two men and barked the words loudly.
“Comrade?” Sylvy Stonehouse snapped. “I’ll never fight alongside this two-faced scum. It’s either me or him—if he joins the fight, I won’t. I’m not risking my back for some coward to stab it when the battle heats up!”
You could hardly blame Sylvy for his fury. Over the years, Alyn Orkwood, acting as Asha’s rabid dog, had done no small number of outrageous things to the lords gathered here—restricting their fishing grounds, demanding extra taxes, and more.
But his offenses against House Stonehouse were the most egregious. Alyn had outright seized Sylvy’s daughter as a salt wife and nearly razed one of the Stonehouse villages to the ground.
Faced with such a personal enemy, how could Sylvy stomach the idea of fighting side by side?
“I don’t trust him either,” said the Lord of House Goodbrother in a low voice. “He’s always been Asha Greyjoy’s mad dog, biting anyone she pointed him at. Now, suddenly, he turns on her and wants to work with us? It reeks of deceit. This whole gathering could be a trap he and Asha planned together.”
Several others echoed doubts about Alyn’s sudden change of heart.
Alyn didn’t defend himself. He knew full well that no explanation he gave would sway their minds. Instead, he turned and looked to Dunstan.
Dunstan stepped forward and said calmly, “I vouch for him. He stands with us.”
That statement silenced the room.
If there was any man among the Ironborn lords who hated Asha Greyjoy most, it was Dunstan. Not long ago, Asha had stripped the Drumm family of its lordship over Old Wyk and destroyed one of their raiding fleets. The loss of thirty longships had been brutal. Worse still, Dunstan’s heir, Denys Drumm, had died as a result.
If even Dunstan, who burned with hatred for Asha, was willing to speak on Alyn Orkwood’s behalf, then perhaps the man could be trusted after all.
“Why’d you betray Asha?” someone finally asked Alyn, curiosity edging their voice.
“Because the Doom is coming,” Alyn replied, “and there is someone far more worthy of following.”
As he spoke, he reached up and touched a pendant hanging around his neck—a crystal-carved emblem bearing a spiral pattern. If Lynd were here, he would have immediately recognized it as the same spiral that had once encircled the White Walkers’ altar.
Seeing Alyn’s mystic manner, several of the lords scoffed, faces full of disdain. Still, they didn’t press him further and instead turned to Dunstan, asking about the plan of attack.
Dunstan laid out the plan, and only then did the others understand why Alyn Orkwood was standing among them.
The plan was simple and direct. Using Alyn’s position close to Asha, they would lure away her fleet stationed at Pyke’s harbor. Once her ships were drawn off, the rebels would strike Pyke directly. If they captured Asha, her fleet would crumble without her, and those still hesitating to rise against her tyranny would be inspired to join the fight.
“Can you really get Asha’s fleet out of the way?” someone questioned.
“I can’t. But this can,” Alyn Orkwood replied, pulling a command document from his cloak and handing it to the skeptic.
The order, signed personally by Asha, instructed the fleet to assist Alyn Orkwood in rooting out a hidden smuggling port on Old Wyk—one that just so happened to belong to Dunstan.
After the order had made its rounds and been examined by each of the assembled lords, it was returned to Alyn, who tucked it back into his pocket.
“I’ll have the fleet moved tomorrow night,” he said. “My men will light a signal from the lighthouse at the docks. That’s your cue to land straight at the port and head directly for Pyke Castle. Don’t waste time raiding the town—we’re not here for loot. Remember: our goal is to kill Asha.”
The group then discussed a few more tactical details before Alyn departed in haste, heading back to Pyke to set the diversion in motion.
The others gathered at the ship’s prow, watching as Alyn’s longship cut swiftly across the waves, vanishing into the sea mist on the horizon.
“I don’t trust him,” said Gylbert Farwynd of Lonely Light, breaking his silence from the corner where he’d been brooding since boarding.
“I don’t either,” added Donnel Drumm, Dunstan’s younger son and current heir.
Several others voiced similar doubts about Alyn Orkwood. Dunstan knew full well that Alyn could be trusted—for now—but that wasn’t something he could openly share. So instead, he asked calmly, “Then what do you propose?”
“Father, let me keep an eye on him,” Donnel suggested.
“Hm. That might be a good idea,” a few nodded in agreement.
But Gylbert Farwynd spoke up again, this time with a weightier tone.
“Dunstan, it’s not that I doubt your son’s capability,” he said, “but this matter is too important. Alyn Orkwood holds the key to whether this entire plan succeeds. One man keeping watch isn’t enough...” He shot a skeptical look toward Donnel before adding, “Gyles and I will go with him. That should make things more secure.”
Most agreed that Gylbert’s suggestion was cautious and sensible. Though Donnel bristled with anger, feeling personally slighted, he had no grounds to refuse under the weight of collective approval. In the end, he reluctantly agreed to accompany the Farwynds to the outskirts of Pyke town and keep watch on Alyn.
According to the plan, the rebel fleet scattered, quietly closing in on the waters around Pyke Island. As night fell the following day, they regrouped, slipping under cover of darkness toward a small inlet near Pyke town.
“Damn it! That bastard Alyn Orkwood is playing us—he never moved the fleet,” Sylvy Stonehouse cursed, glaring toward the hilltop where their lookout was signaling back from a distance.
Old Dunstan’s expression darkened, but he kept his voice steady.
“Sylvy, don’t let your hatred cloud your judgment. It’s still early. The agreed time hasn’t come yet.”
His words managed to settle the crowd for the moment—but only just. As the minutes dragged by, the unease returned, spreading not only through Sylvy but the rest of the lords as well.
What they were doing was treason, plain and simple. Asha Greyjoy had been waiting for a reason to act against them for years. If word got out, she’d have her excuse—and with her temperament, none of their families would be spared.
Just as their nerves neared a breaking point, they all saw it—up on the distant hill, a flicker of firelight pulsing in the night, flashing the signal they had been waiting for.
"Set sail!"
Old Dunstan suppressed his usual urge to make a speech and gave a short, sharp order.
The rebel fleet, long impatient, swiftly rowed out of the small cove and headed toward the town beneath Pyke Castle.
Before long, they spotted the town and the lighthouse beside it. The signal on the lighthouse was flashing exactly as Alyn Orkwood had instructed.
Over the past two years, under Asha’s orders, the town on Pyke Island had more than tripled in size. The docks had expanded even more—three to four times larger—stretching two leagues along the coast. Docks that massive could easily accommodate two hundred longships.
In peacetime, Asha Greyjoy’s Sea Witch fleet would be moored there. But now, aside from a few fishing boats, there wasn’t a single longship in sight.
The town had also fallen silent early due to Asha’s series of bans. Every household had shuttered doors and windows, too afraid to come out and play. The punishments meted out to those who had previously violated the restricted forest were still fresh in everyone's minds. Some had even died in the mines. No one dared to ignore a single one of Asha’s commands.
The lack of resistance from the townsfolk worked in the rebels’ favor. Once their ships docked, just as Alyn’s men had arranged, the warriors disembarked and passed through the town without any obstruction, charging straight toward Pyke Castle.
According to Alyn’s plan, his men would deal with the guards on the outer walls and towers by nightfall. Once the walls were breached, the rebels were to storm the main keep. Only by taking control of the main keep could they quickly eliminate Asha’s remaining forces inside the castle.
And Alyn did keep his word. The guards on the outer walls and towers were indeed taken care of. When the rebels reached the castle gate, they saw Alyn’s men standing beside a pile of corpses, pointing the way to the main keep.
The assembled lords didn't hesitate. They led their men forward, and the closer they got to the main gate, the more certain they felt of victory. Their excitement mounted. By the time they crossed the long bridge to the keep, they no longer cared about staying quiet and began shouting in triumph as they stormed inside.
But the moment they entered the fortress, they froze. Confused, they stopped in their tracks, glancing around in disbelief. The castle was completely empty—not a single guard, not even a servant.
Just as they were trying to make sense of what was happening, torches flared to life along the outer walls, the towers, and the other buildings within the castle grounds. The light bathed Pyke’s outer walls in a bright glow, revealing ranks of heavily armored soldiers lined up with precision. Among them, Asha Greyjoy stood out prominently.
Yet the eyes of those standing at the main gate, having just come from the keep, didn’t fall on Asha. They were fixed instead on Donnel Drumm and Gylbert Farwynd, the father and son standing beside her.
Then, a soldier dragged Alyn Orkwood forward and, in full view of everyone, beheaded him on the spot.
At that moment, everyone realized they had been led into a trap.
“Get into Pyke and hold it! We haven’t lost yet!” Old Dunstan shouted.
Everyone knew there was no hope of breaking out now. Even if they tried, the flames rising from the docks made it clear their ships were likely already gone. Their only choice was to hold Pyke and try to negotiate with Asha from within.
So the forces still outside quickly rushed back inside the walls. They sealed the main gate and piled anything they could find behind it as a barricade.
They barely had time to catch their breath when someone keeping watch from a castle window suddenly pointed to the sky and shouted, “Up there! Something’s in the sky!”
The shout echoed through the castle. Everyone rushed to the windows to look.
With no clouds in the sky, the moonlight clearly illuminated everything above. From a distance, they could all see a group of massive flying beasts hurtling toward them.
“Dragons—it’s dragons!” someone screamed in terror. Panic swept through the room.
But as the flying creatures reached Pyke, they didn’t dive to attack. Instead, they soared over the castle, and as they passed, strange objects that looked like clay pots began to fall from the sky.
Green flames burst open like blooming flowers across Pyke Castle. Even from the dark sea far away, those brilliant, deadly blossoms could be seen clearly.
