Blood And Iron (ASOIAF/GoT)

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-dastard Pov tenth moon 288 AC

"A westerosi from one of the Crownlands houses has arrived at the camp, Hauptmann," reported the guard, respectful but without emotion.

The Prussian captain let go of the bar, landing lightly on the ground, wiping the sweat off with a towel as he fixed me with a piercing gaze. "I don't recognize your heraldry, so I assume you're from a minor house. What brings you to my camp?" he asked in a deep, firm voice, his Prussian accent marking each word with hardness.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I knew I couldn't afford any mistakes with my words. "To the east, I saw about twenty Ironborn ships seeking shelter in an estuary. It looks like a storm is approaching," I replied, pointing in the direction where I'd spotted them.

The Prussian captain's face betrayed no emotion, though I noticed a slight raise of his brow. I knew my information had caught his interest.

"And why haven't you attacked them?" he asked with a tone of disapproval, as though expecting we'd have done more.

"I don't know how many of them there are, Haup…tmann. Twenty ships could mean a thousand Ironborn, and I barely have two hundred men. It wouldn't be wise to throw ourselves into a suicide mission. So I thought it'd be advisable to join forces…or that you might call for reinforcements to take down the pirates," I explained, hoping my answer would be enough to prevent him from accusing us of cowardice.

The Prussian captain studied me a moment longer before turning back toward his camp. "Fine..." he began shouting, and suddenly, the entire camp exploded into activity. "EVERYONE, STOP TRAINING! WE MARCH IN TEN MINUTES!" he roared, and the Prussian soldiers mobilized with astonishing efficiency. It was as if each man knew exactly what to do, donning armor, checking weapons, and preparing for the march within minutes.

I watched the orderly chaos erupt in the camp. The Prussians weren't like us; there was no hesitation, no delay. In less than ten minutes, they'd be ready to depart, marching with discipline to crush the Ironborn with overwhelming force. For my part, I felt a wave of relief at having come here rather than facing the pirates alone.

As the Prussians prepared, I approached the captain again. "Will we fight side by side?" I asked, secretly hoping to avoid involvement in the action.

"I'd prefer not to. We have different ways of fighting, and I'd rather avoid chaos," the Prussian captain replied.

I silently celebrated, realizing they'd do all the heavy lifting.

All the Prussians mounted their horses, leaving only four men to guard the camp, and rode toward the estuary. I felt a bit concerned to see only around three hundred soldiers, but if their reputation held true, they would likely cut down many Ironborn.

I followed the Prussian force as they moved swiftly over the terrain, their horses galloping with a precision and coordination I'd rarely seen. The difference in numbers worried me; although the Prussians numbered about three hundred, we were heading toward a force several times larger of hardened Ironborn, ruthless and well-seasoned in maritime combat. Yet, as we rode on, the calm and confidence of the Prussian soldiers instilled a strange sense of assurance in me. These men didn't seem to fear being outnumbered.

We reached the estuary where I had spotted the Ironborn ships, and there they were, bobbing in the water beneath the looming threat of an approaching storm. The Prussians sent scouts forward in silence, weaving through trees and hills to observe and count the enemy while the main force organized meticulously for battle.

As we waited, another Prussian contingent appeared on the horizon. The newcomers advanced with equal discipline, and the camp's morale visibly rose. Now, the Prussians numbered about six hundred men, and though we were still outnumbered, I felt a renewed sense of security. Their armor gleamed under the faint light breaking through the clouds, of a quality I had never seen before—sturdy and perfectly crafted for combat. The quality of their gear and their discipline could more than compensate for their numerical disadvantage. I had heard rumors that their armor was fit for a king, and seeing it up close, I couldn't agree more.

I stayed near the Prussian captain, who watched the pirate ships with a cold, calculating gaze. I overheard some Prussian soldiers conversing in their language, estimating that the Ironborn numbered around a thousand men. Still, I saw no fear on their faces—only firm resolve, as though this was merely another challenge in their relentless mission to conquer Westeros.

The Prussians swiftly arranged themselves into tight formations, raising their maces and shields with near-military precision. You could feel the tension in the air, the meticulous preparation of an army that knew exactly how it would crush its enemies. I knew that once the fighting began, it would be like watching a war machine in action—unstoppable, calculated, and devastating. For me, this would be a rare chance to witness the Prussians in their prime, facing off against a horde of pirates who likely didn't understand the level of discipline they'd be up against.

Finally, the captain raised his hand and gave the order to advance. The soldiers moved with an eerie silence, their steps echoing in perfect rhythm. It was as if they marched to the beat of an invisible drum. I knew that when we reached the estuary, the clash between these two forces would be something few had witnessed and even fewer would survive to tell.

I kept a safe distance, perched on a hill, watching everything closely. If the Prussians won, I could claim part of the credit for the information I'd brought them; but if they fell, I had my own plan. I knew that any great lord of Westeros would pay a fortune for one of those Prussian suits of armor, and if things went south, I might just have the chance to claim one for myself. It was a calculated risk, and in the meantime, I prepared to be a shrewd observer.

The Prussians moved in tight formation, their discipline almost superhuman. They marched toward the Ironborn positions, where the pirates had formed a shield wall along the shore of the estuary, bracing to withstand the onslaught. As the Prussians descended in perfect sync, I could see the precision with which each soldier maintained his position, advancing as a single unit, relentlessly toward the enemy.

When they finally drew near, the Prussian captain gave the order, and his men charged with devastating force. The sound of the clash was thunderous, the clash of shields and swords echoing across the area, reverberating between the hills and the water. The first impact was brutal, and the Prussians advanced with a ferocity that few armies in Westeros could match. There were no disorganized shouts or chaos in their ranks, only a constant and lethal push forward.

From my position on the hill, I could see the Ironborn starting to fall back, step by step, struggling to hold their lines. The Prussians' brutality was methodical; their swords and spears moved with terrifying precision. The Ironborn, accustomed to fighting in the chaotic frenzy of boarding ships and ambushes, seemed bewildered by the Prussian formation, which pushed them back mercilessly.

I watched calmly, taking in every detail of the battle. Though the Prussians' victory seemed certain, I knew the fight was far from over. The Ironborn were fierce fighters, and though they were retreating, they still had enough strength to launch a counterattack if they managed to regroup. But the more I observed, the clearer it became that the Prussians wouldn't grant them that chance; they were like an unstoppable tide, breaking through the pirates' defenses with every step, every blow.

My hope of claiming one of those Prussian armors faded as I watched their victory draw closer. Their men yielded no ground, maintaining their formation and crushing every attempt at resistance. It was a lesson in warfare that I knew would stay with me, should I ever find myself needing to fight in such conditions.

I only had to wait a few more minutes to witness the final scene of the battle. The Prussians had crushed the Ironborn, and now, instead of slaughtering them, they shackled their hands and feet, leading them back to camp as prisoners. The precision with which they executed every move was impressive; even in victory, they kept rigorous order.

Suddenly, I saw the Prussian captain riding toward me, his armor dented over his chest, a testament to the intense combat he had faced.

"Westerosi," he called as he approached, his tone firm and authoritative.

"Yes, hauptmann," I replied quickly, nodding slightly. I knew these men valued discipline and respect.

"Your information proved accurate," he said, jotting something down in a notebook before handing me a slip of paper. "The payment for your information: thirty golden dragons. More than fair compensation for the location of an Ironborn battle group. I don't have the coin on hand, but you can claim it at any Prussian camp along the coast."

"Oh… well… thank you," I responded, taken aback. Thirty golden dragons was a considerable sum. Then, unable to resist, I asked, "Will you be taking all the spoils?"

The Prussian gave me a stern look before answering. "The gear of these pirates holds little value to us. The saltwater has clearly worn down their weapons and armor, so taking it back would be a waste of time. Feel free to take whatever remains. The ships, however, are ours," he stated, making it clear he wouldn't budge on that point.

"Of course… thank you. I'll bring my men at once," I replied, trying to mask my excitement.

Without losing a second, I rushed back to the camp where my men awaited and, without much preamble, informed them of the opportunity. Upon hearing that we could keep the abandoned equipment, their eyes glinted with greed. We returned to the battle site and immediately began working, gathering all the leftovers the Prussians had left behind: damaged chainmail, battered plate armor, axes, swords, bows, and all manner of gear that the Prussians deemed worthless but that would fetch a small fortune for us in the markets.

To us, every piece of equipment, no matter how worn, was an opportunity. I knew I could sell it all at a good price to some merchant and hopefully fill my pockets without having had to lift a sword in the fight. The Prussians had done the heavy lifting, and we'd reap the reward. In the end, this game of shadows, of following them and picking up their scraps, had proven to be a wise decision.

After loading up the ships and ensuring all the gear and spoils were secured, I went to collect my payment. The Prussian quartermaster barely glanced at the slip of paper; he simply nodded upon seeing it and handed me the thirty gold coins without question. Each one gleamed, freshly minted, bearing the Prussian insignia. There was no doubt: these Prussians had resources and a level of organization that was impressive.

With gold in hand and a decent haul loaded on board, we prepared to set sail. Snow had been falling for days, blanketing everything in white and dropping temperatures fast. We knew that staying much longer in these lands would be risky. With favorable winds and winter setting in, we sailed southward.

The journey was short and calm, with no incidents at sea, and in a few days, we arrived in Lannisport. There, in the markets and taverns, we sold most of the equipment we had collected. Despite the wear and tear on the pirates' weapons and armor, the local merchants paid well for each piece. As always, my lord took the largest share of the profits, but what remained for me and my men was enough to line our pockets well.

With gold and provisions in hand, we set off for home, satisfied and, for once, relieved. We had obtained twice what we'd expected, and we had enough food to fill the granaries and withstand the winter that had already arrived.

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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