Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

Woo~ woo~ woo~

A mournful whistle echoed continuously throughout the sky.

Like a lingering, resentful wail crying to the cold, angry waves; like a hideous, terrifying shriek crying towards Rain House City on the shore.

All the warships simultaneously unleashed Light, and Shipbreaker Bay under the dark night immediately became as bright as day.

Large schools of fish, attracted by the light, gathered around curiously, crowding into dense masses in the sea, almost filling the deep water;

The humans in Rain House City, in contrast, fearfully lit signal fires, rang alarm bells, and called for the Sleepers.

"Intruders!"

"Hundreds of ships have come from the sea! A fleet, the fleet from King's Landing!" The terrifying light allowed them to clearly see the enemy's numbers and imposing appearance.

"Stop sleeping!"

"All men to the city walls! Put on your armor! Pick up your weapons!"

The shouts of the night watch Guards, accompanied by the clanging of bells, spread from the watchtowers, but the terrifying long wails from the sea were like thunder, their eerie tone causing hearts to tremble and Souls to stir.

A person's shout couldn't even travel ten steps.

The Guards quickly realized they were just wasting their efforts. Fortunately, the enemy's alarm also served to remind everyone, and with better effect.

Lights appeared in the buildings and houses within the city one after another, and many people rushed out to check before even fully dressed.

The signal fires from the watchtowers and the posture of the Guards finally conveyed a clear message to the city: there were enemies invading from the sea, and they were extremely powerful!

Pirates from the Stepstones? Squid from the Iron Islands? The little King's Royal Fleet?

After climbing the city walls, the people saw the answer.

Countless warships emitted bright white light, and the flags on their sails and masts were uniformly black Crowned Stags on a gold background.

The Royal Fleet!

"How can there be so many ships!?"

The surprised Knight who spoke had a gleaming helmet tucked under his arm, its crest inlaid with the blue-green swirling Sigil of House Wylde.

"My Lord Casper." The Guards respectfully saluted the master of Rain House City.

Everyone watched Casper Wylde, their Eyes filled with unease and anticipation, as if everyone's fate depended on Casper Wylde's next words.

Casper Wylde's face was solemn, his mind rapidly calculating the current situation.

For various reasons, he had not personally led his troops to respond to Storm's End, but instead sent his uncle, Ser Mond Wylde, to lead the contingent.

However, subsequent intelligence made him regret his decision somewhat.

The support for the Iron Throne from the three northern kingdoms was less than expected, while Highgarden's performance was more determined and generous than anticipated.

Victory seemed unquestionable.

At that time, what if His Majesty Renly misunderstood the loyalty of House Wylde?

Casper Wylde then assembled more troops and prepared more Supplies, planning to personally lead his forces north to reinforce.

The departure was scheduled for tomorrow.

But now. Casper Wylde gazed at the fleet on the sea, which was so bizarre it seemed like something out of a myth, and the scales in his heart couldn't help but tip again.

Could it be that those outrageous messages from King's Landing were not rumors after all?

And those descriptions, which seemed absurd even when heard as stories, were all realities that King's Landing was currently experiencing?

At least, the powerful fleet before him was real.

Casper Wylde stared at the fleet, and together with everyone in Rain House City, listened to the almost endless wail, guessing its symbolic meaning and power.

After an unknown length of time.

The soul-stirring long wail finally subsided and stopped, replaced by a calm declaration that echoed throughout the castle:

"By the command of His Majesty King Joffrey I of House Baratheon and the Lannister family, to suppress the rebels and clear the coast.

House Wylde blindly pledged allegiance to the Usurper Renly, emboldened the rebel army's arrogance, defied peace, disregarded the common people, and betrayed the King to whom they swore Oath. Their crime is immense, how can it be tolerated?

Today, we come across the waves to clarify the truth, to set things right, and to serve as a warning to others.

Hear this command:

Rain House City is given one quarter of an hour to raise a white flag and for all personnel to come out of the city to welcome the King. Then your crimes may be forgiven, your lands retained, and you will be allowed to serve as the King's vanguard.

Otherwise, the time of your men and horses perishing, your castle being destroyed, and your family name being ruined will arrive immediately.

Let it not be said that this warning was not given."

A dispassionate, flat-toned male voice announced the intention that most worried and gripped Rain House City, announcing a terrifying disaster.

No one could ignore these invisible, intangible words.

The fleet in the sea glowed with a strange light, standing still amidst the angry waves, giving the words the heaviest weight and the most dazzling color, making them a command symbolizing authority.

Everyone's eyes were focused on the Earl.

Casper Wylde held the helmet tightly against his chest, his face solemn.

Who would win the Throne?

What should House Wylde choose? Is now the time to make that decision?

Casper Wylde's heart was in turmoil.

This war shouldn't have been a disaster for House Wylde.

House Wylde only needed to follow tradition, remain steadfastly loyal to their Liege Lord, fulfill their duties, fight hard, uphold honor and oaths, and surrender or yield with dignity.

Then, whether successful or defeated, they could at least continue to exist under the new King and keep their family castle.

However.

Surrendering now, even in the face of an unstoppable massive fleet, could that be considered loyalty?

He knew the answer.

Now, the war had just begun. After Massey's Hook, Rain House City was very likely the second place to welcome the flames of war.

A surrender at this point would absolutely not be understood by the Lords, much less tolerated by Storm's End.

If Storm's End were to achieve ultimate victory, and King Renly happened to remember this matter, House Wylde would face the crisis of decline or even destruction.

Compared to such a risk, having the castle razed by the Royal Fleet was more acceptable.

To die in loyal service to their Liege Lord would make the family's reputation even more glorious and honorable. The Lords would praise and commend them, and the King could not openly criticize them.

After everything settled, the new King would certainly not hurt the feelings and traditions of the nobility. House Wylde would be reborn, and the ancestral lands, taxes, and titles passed down for centuries would continue to be inherited.

"My lord, it's almost time," his attendant couldn't help but remind him.

"I know."

Casper Wylde rubbed the familiar sigil a few times and firmly put on his helmet.

Besides, Rain House City was a fortress carefully built by generations of the family. It could at least hold out for a while, waiting for reinforcements, a great storm, or the Royal Fleet to retreat.

Casper Wylde was still quite puzzled by the fleet's attack.

Why did the Royal Fleet go to such great lengths, rushing to occupy this rainforest area at Cape Wrath? Go to Storm's End, go to Crow's Nest.

Why waste precious time at Rain House City?

There was no more time to think. Casper Wylde immediately instructed the Maester: "Send out ravens to report the news, to Storm's End, to Fallenwood."

The black birds circled the tower a few times and flew far to the north, unimpeded.

A quarter of an hour passed.

Aboard the Divine Grace, Joffrey sighed.

"Full fleet bombardment."

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