"What's the panic!"
Paxter Redwyne was extremely dissatisfied to see his subordinates in such a state of panic.
As the Lord of The Arbor, he had never lost a battle in his life and was full of confidence in his fleet.
When Robert Baratheon launched his rebellion, Paxter Redwyne had besieged Storm's End for nearly a year. Although he eventually had to surrender to Robert due to the Targaryen's total defeat in the war, in Paxter Redwyne's view, that was because his allies were simply too incompetent, not a failure of his own martial prowess.
During the later Greyjoy Rebellion, the Redwyne Fleet had completely crushed the powerful Iron Fleet at the Battle of Fair Isle.
Even though the overall commander of that campaign was Stannis, in Paxter Redwyne's heart, the credit was entirely inseparable from the power of his own fleet.
And now, even though his eldest son was held hostage by Tywin Lannister, Paxter Redwyne had never panicked.
After all, the only naval force the Lannisters could currently deploy was almost exclusively the Redwyne Fleet.
"Don't be in a hurry, speak slowly."
Compared to Paxter Redwyne's harsh reprimand, his son Hobber appeared much more amiable.
As the second son of the family, Hobber maintained his image at all times, attempting to gain the support of his vassals just as Renly Baratheon once had.
With a smile on his face, he joked, "It's not as if Robert Baratheon has risen from the dead and led an army to wipe out our men, is it?"
Hearing this, the messenger was stunned for a moment.
"How... how did you know, Master Hobber?"
"Huh???"
As soon as those words were spoken, both father and son's eyes widened.
"Tell me in detail!"
Paxter Redwyne frowned and spoke sharply.
"Yes... yes, My Lord!"
The messenger quickly straightened his back and reported the information he had received in a few words: "News came from our disciplinary squad at the front. They say the defenders organized a counterattack in the inner courtyard. Their numbers are small, but they are exceptionally fierce."
"Then they said soldiers claimed to have seen a ghost—a giant wearing a stag-horned helm, wielding a massive warhammer, invincible on the battlefield."
Lord Paxter Redwyne remained seated in his chair, listening without a change in expression.
When he heard the words "stag-horned helm," his thin fingers tightened slightly.
"Describe that person's appearance," he interrupted the messenger.
"Very... very tall, My Lord."
"Half a head taller than Ser Horas, wearing heavy armor and a stag-horned helm. He's massive, and his warhammer is terrifying; a single blow can shatter a shield and crush a man along with his armor."
"His face? Did anyone see his face?"
The messenger shook his head. "He's wearing a helmet, and there's only a slit in the visor, but some veterans say... say his build looks very much like... very much like..."
"Like who?"
Hearing Paxter Redwyne's cold questioning, the messenger swallowed and answered tremulously, "Like Robert Baratheon!"
As soon as these words were spoken, the cabin fell into a dead silence. The cabin swayed, and people's breathing could almost be heard.
Hobber was the first to react, letting out a narrow laugh. "Ridiculous!"
"Robert Baratheon has been dead for two years. Even his bones must be rotten by now. How could he crawl out of his grave to fight!"
"But..." the messenger said, trembling, "the soldiers are starting to spread rumors... saying that King Robert's heroic spirit has returned to fight for his brother."
"And that guy is just too similar. Already... some of our troops have begun to waver..."
"Impossible!"
Lord Paxter Redwyne stood up abruptly. "Absolutely impossible!"
His face was ashen as he walked to the porthole. His silhouette looked exceptionally thin in the candlelight, as if a sea breeze could knock him over.
"There is no such thing as ghosts in this world. This is a trick of Stannis's!"
"That fellow found someone who looks exactly like Robert—perhaps a bastard, perhaps a hired mercenary—dressed him in armor, and used him to scare the soldiers who know nothing."
"I heard that during the Battle of the Blackwater, the dwarf used this method to win the victory."
Saying this, he turned around, looked at his son with sharp eyes, and said with certainty, "But I must say, it is a clever trick."
"Hobber, go there yourself. Take my guard and enough archers. Do not engage him in close combat. Cover him with a rain of arrows. I want to see that stag-horned helm brought back on the tip of a spear!"
"Yes, father!" Hobber didn't hesitate. He grabbed his helmet and strode out following the messenger.
But the development of events exceeded everyone's expectations.
Over the next two hours, the The Queen of the Arbor constantly received bad news.
Hobber's troops encountered stubborn resistance.
That "Stag Ghost" was not only brave but seemed to have a certain battlefield intuition. He always appeared at the weakest point of the defensive line, seizing the gaps when the Redwyne army was being redeployed.
Even worse, an incredible change had occurred in the morale of the Dragonstone defenders.
They had been exhausted, hungry, and remnants that could collapse at any moment, but now they were like men injected with some kind of fanatical blood.
They shouted, "For Baratheon!"
"King Robert is with us!"
They launched one suicidal charge after another.
There were almost no tactics, just pure, frenzied, desperate fighting!
And this madness spread across Dragonstone like a plague!
The first unit to break and flee appeared at the landing beach. About fifty Redwyne soldiers dropped their weapons, jumped onto any small boat they could find, and rowed desperately toward the fleet.
The disciplinary squad tried to stop them, shooting several deserters, but more soldiers chose to join the rout.
Panic continued to spread through the Redwyne army. Every soldier who escaped back was like a madman, as if they had seen something incredibly terrifying, shouting, "King Robert's spirit has returned!"
"We are fighting the dead!"
"This is a curse! This is rebellion, we are cursed!"
Rumors passed between every soldier, becoming more exaggerated with each telling.
Later, some even said they saw that the "ghost" was invulnerable, and that arrows shot at him would automatically bounce off.
Some said a single roar from him could shatter a man's heart.
Others said his warhammer was wreathed in green ghostfire!
Lord Paxter Redwyne stood on the command deck of the The Queen of the Arbor, watching all this through a Myrish lens.
He saw his soldiers fleeing in a rout.
He saw the Redwyne banners that had already been raised being cut down.
He saw the Dragonstone defenders retaking a section of the wall.
And what startled him most was the figure he caught a glimpse of through the Myrish lens.
That figure wearing the stag-horned helm, standing on the broken wall with a warhammer held high!
Although he couldn't see the details clearly, that build, that posture...
It really looked like him.
It looked too much like him!
So much so that even Paxter Redwyne himself wavered for a moment.
"Father!"
Heavy footsteps sounded as Hobber returned. His armor had several deep scratches, his left arm was wrapped in bandages, his face was ashen, and he looked very indignant as he angrily threw his helmet directly onto the table.
"We can't stop them!"
"It's not that we can't beat them, it's the soldiers... they don't dare to fight!"
"Every time we mention a charge, people start shaking. The archers don't dare to aim, saying they're afraid of being cursed. While the knights are still brave, the army's morale is in chaos. We can't win the war with knights alone."
Hearing this, Paxter Redwyne put down the Myrish lens and remained silent for a long time.
The sea breeze blew through the few strands of orange-yellow hair on his bald head, making his dark red cloak flutter high.
Three massive burgundy sails rustled overhead, and golden oars were neatly arranged on both sides of the hull.
This was the most powerful warship in the Seven Kingdoms, a symbol of a hundred years of glory for House Redwyne.
And at this moment, it could only stay here, watching the army on the shore collapse bit by bit.
"What about that fellow named Vito Corleone?"
Abruptly, Paxter Redwyne suddenly asked.
Hearing this, Hobber was stunned. "What?"
"Vito Corleone."
Paxter Redwyne tapped the windowsill, his gaze becoming deep. "If this is a trick, then the planner must be him."
"Stannis couldn't think of such a dramatic tactic. It must be that fellow. I've heard rumors about him. Vito Corleone is a very difficult person to deal with."
"Heh... He not only wants to win, he wants to win beautifully, achieving the greatest victory with the smallest cost!"
Saying this, Paxter Redwyne turned to look at his son, his eyes flashing with the light of wisdom. He analyzed with certainty, "We've been tricked!"
"That fellow knew long ago that he would be abandoned by Tywin Lannister, so from the moment he landed on Dragonstone, everything was within his calculations..."
"No, perhaps even longer ago, he had already begun to make plans!"
He shook his head, his eyes suddenly becoming excited, as if he were thrilled to have met an equal opponent. "To forge such a suit of armor and a hammer is not something that can be done in just a week. That fellow... is truly impressive!"
"He allowed Tywin to arrange for him to go to the island, then reached a pact and alliance with Stannis at extreme speed. He let us easily break through the outer defenses, let us think victory was in sight, and let us scatter our troops throughout the castle..."
"Then, at the most critical moment, he brought out this 'ghost' to crush our morale in one fell swoop!"
"Hahaha, it's been a long time since I've encountered such an interesting opponent!"
Paxter Redwyne laughed loudly, but his son Hobber felt his scalp go numb the more he listened.
If it was truly as his father said, and that fellow named Vito Corleone had planned to this extent in advance, how were they supposed to defeat such an opponent?
Hobber swallowed, his face pale. "Then what do we do now..."
"Retreat." Paxter Redwyne gave a cold laugh and ordered decisively, "Withdraw all the troops that can still be withdrawn and abandon the areas we've already occupied."
"But father!"
Hearing this, Hobber was unwilling. "We've already paid such a high price! And Lord Tywin's orders..."
"Lord Tywin wants Corleone dead, not for the elite of House Redwyne to be entirely sacrificed on Dragonstone."
Paxter Redwyne's voice was cold. "If we exhaust all our troops today, tomorrow The Arbor will become a piece of fat in the eyes of the other Reach lords. House Tyrell, House Hightower, House Tarly... they will pounce like sharks smelling blood."
Saying this, he patted his son's shoulder and walked to the ship's rail, looking at Dragonstone with a slight smile. "Besides, who said we've lost?"
The order to retreat was transmitted through flag signals and fast boats.
The Redwyne army began to retreat from the castle in an orderly fashion, returning to the landing craft and then to the fleet.
The process was not smooth. Some units were caught by the defenders and suffered heavy losses, some soldiers trampled each other in panic, and a lot of equipment was abandoned on the shore.
But in the end, most of the troops successfully withdrew.
In the command cabin of the The Queen of the Arbor, Lord Paxter Redwyne gathered all the high-ranking officers.
A sea chart was spread out on the long table, and candles flickered on gilded candelabras, casting Lord Paxter Redwyne's thin silhouette onto the pearl-inlaid cabin walls.
Six senior captains and two knights stood around the table, waiting for orders.
Under the candlelight, everyone's expression was grim. After all, a campaign of conquest that was thought to be extremely easy had turned into an embarrassing retreat for their side.
"How much have we lost?" As the commander, Paxter Redwyne didn't show much dejection on his face and asked in a calm tone.
A knight answered honestly, "According to the statistics, about four hundred are dead or missing, and about six hundred are wounded."
He glanced at Hobber. "The heaviest losses... were in Ser Horas's first landing party, with over half the men killed or wounded."
"Regarding equipment, we abandoned about thirty scaling ladders, components for two siege towers, and a large amount of supplies."
"And the fleet?"
"The fleet is intact, only a few landing craft were sunk by the frenzied defenders during the retreat."
After listening to his subordinate's report, Paxter Redwyne nodded.
This loss was entirely acceptable.
The important thing was that the fleet was intact. He knew very well that the fleet was the foundation of House Redwyne. As long as the fleet's organization remained, there would always be a place for them in the Seven Kingdoms.
"What do we do now, My Lord?"
An old captain asked, "Do we retreat back to King's Landing, or continue the attack?"
Hearing the news, Paxter Redwyne's finger traced across the sea chart, finally stopping near Dragonstone. "Stop the landing and withdraw all troops."
"Regroup the fleet. Establish three lines of blockade centered around Dragonstone."
"Any ship attempting to leave or approach Dragonstone is to be sunk immediately, without warning!"
At these words, Horas Redwyne couldn't help but speak up. "Father, we've clearly broken through the outer walls. If we just commit a few more troops, I guarantee I'll capture Stannis and that fellow in the antlered helmet within three days!"
It was no wonder Hobber was so agitated; after all, he was desperate to prove himself.
Hearing this, Paxter Redwyne lifted his eyelids and stared straight at his son. "Do you intend to use the blood of House Redwyne to pave the way for Tywin Lannister's success?"
"Even if you could take Dragonstone in three days, what then? Have you calculated how many men and ships we would have left!"
Such a harsh scolding in front of all the knights and captains left Hobber with no dignity.
Hobber's face flushed and paled in turns, and he gritted his teeth, not daring to defy his father.
At this moment, an old captain quickly spoke up to defuse the situation. "A siege is the safest course, Ser Hobber."
"Dragonstone's food stores won't last a month. As long as we hold the sea, we can win this war without shedding a drop of blood."
"Not only that." Paxter Redwyne curled his lip, not sparing Hobber another glance. A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth as he said, "Tywin Lannister wants Corleone dead. A siege ensures he dies on this island."
"More importantly..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone. "Horas Redwyne is still in the the Red Keep."
These words caused everyone's expression to tighten.
Everyone knew that Paxter Redwyne's eldest son, Horas Redwyne, was a "guest" of The Reach nobility in King's Landing, but in reality, he was a hostage to ensure the loyalty of House Redwyne.
"If we storm Dragonstone and suffer heavy losses without capturing or confirming Corleone's death, what will Tywin think?"
"He will think House Redwyne is either incompetent or intentionally preserving its strength by disobeying the Iron Throne's orders. Regardless of which it is, it's bad news for Hobber."
At these words, Hobber's face grew even paler.
Even though he was the son fighting alongside his father, it turned out that in his father's heart, there was only ever Hobber, the eldest son!
Paxter Redwyne didn't notice Hobber's unusual expression. He circled Dragonstone's position on the sea chart and continued his instructions. "We can send daily battle reports to King's Landing, saying the fleet has established a firm blockade and not even a bird can fly off the island."
"And we will explain to the Iron Throne that due to Stannis's desperate resistance, an assault would cause unnecessary casualties. To preserve the kingdom's precious naval strength, we have chosen a more prudent method."
"Furthermore, we can even reasonably request supplies from King's Landing!"
"Two hundred ships and thousands of sailors—daily food consumption is no small amount."
He looked up, a glint of shrewdness in his eyes. "The Hand will approve it."
"Because he needs the fleet to remain combat-ready, and he needs House Redwyne to remain loyal. We can fulfill his orders by starving Corleone to death while preserving our strength and letting the royal treasury foot the bill for our operations."
"When this war is over, we might just be the biggest winners!"
After Paxter Redwyne finished his scheme, the cabin fell silent for a moment, followed by a low murmur of admiration.
This was why House Redwyne stood tall; they always found the most advantageous course through the storm!
"But what about that 'ghost'?" Hobber asked after a moment of silence, still feeling unwilling.
"Can a ghost swim?" Paxter Redwyne countered, his tone laced with faint mockery. "Have the soldiers spread the word: say the Redwyne Fleet respects the spirit of the late king of House Baratheon, so we will not attack. We only politely invite King Stannis and that'spirit' to come out and talk."
"If he has the courage to come out..."
He paused, a cold light flashing in his eyes. "And contact any of our spies on the island who might still be alive."
"I want to know how much food is left in the castle, how many meals they eat a day, and how many times they shit!"
Paxter Redwyne's tone grew increasingly cold as he looked out the porthole at the dark silhouette of Dragonstone, muttering to himself, "Hunger is the best crowbar; it can pry open the firmest loyalty. When the first man betrays his comrades for a piece of bread, the collapse... begins!"
"A ghost might not need to eat, but living men do!"
A perfect plan.
As Paxter Redwyne's orders were issued, flags were raised from the The Queen of the Arbor.
The massive burgundy sails slowly adjusted their angle, golden oars were pulled in, and two hundred warships began to move, encircling Dragonstone.
It was as if they were using waves and sails to build an exquisite cage for Stannis. At the same moment, in the room at the top of the Sea Dragon Tower on Dragonstone, the atmosphere was heavy.
Stannis Baratheon stood with his back to the room, watching the lights of the regrouping fleet on the sea outside the window.
Those points of light were connecting into a shining chain, stretching from one end of his vision to the other, leaving not a single gap.
.
His face was even paler than before. Though his wounds had been re-bandaged, every breath still brought a sharp pain.
"They are establishing a blockade."
Ser Gerard's voice was raspy. "They've completely abandoned the landing in favor of an encirclement. Very clever, and very... Redwyne."
As an old knight who had endured the siege of Storm's End with Stannis over a decade ago, Gerard knew Paxter Redwyne's fighting style all too well.
This moment was exactly like that one.
"Clever?"
Stannis didn't turn around, mocking, "It's the way of a coward, afraid of a decisive battle, using hunger as a weapon."
"How much longer will our food last?"
Hearing this, Ser Gerard reported softly, "By rough count, we have fewer than a thousand fighting men left."
"But because the granary was burned, the food... at minimum rations, can last twenty days."
"If we cut back further, we might stretch it to a month, but the soldiers will be too hungry to lift their weapons."
Stannis didn't speak.
He just looked at the sea, at those warships circling the island like sharks.
"The good news is, the Redwynes have retreated," Gerard continued. "We have regained control of the entire castle."
O
"The wounded are settled, the gaps in the walls are being repaired, and the soldiers' morale is high. They believe King Robert's spirit is