ASOIAF: Lord of Nature

(Erlend Mudd, On the March)

To say he was dissatisfied with the inefficiency of this whole operation would be putting it mildly.

He did understand that one could not build a professional and well-oiled war machine in just a few years, no matter how much Kingdom-building genres would love to sell you the idea that it was otherwise. 

It took a lot of gold, blood, and death to make an army as fearsome as that of his Banners, centuries even. Facilities, training, and even the art of bloodying took time to perfect and make them useful in improving his forces.

Oh, military reforms and centralization of authority can make an army more effective in comparison to their counterparts, but the art of war took time to master, decades at least. Armies weren't shonen protagonists after all and Rome wasn't built in a day.

Naturally, figures such as Napoleon and Alexander were exceptions to this, if his old world ever had the 'children of destiny' nonsense, then they'd be dead ringers for that. It took a shit ton of plot armor and unparalleled talent to achieve even a quarter of their deeds.

Right, where was he? Ah yes, Braavos embarrassing armed state.

Braavos present military affairs were a perfect example of still being stuck in transition, they had the equipment, logistics, and some skill to boast. Yet, they were so horribly outclassed by his Banners and even the Golden Company that it was almost painful to watch.

In the face of disorganized savages, the unreliability of mercenary companies, and the incompetence of the rest of the free cities, the Braavosi army would easily come out on top, but facing an opponent that matched them on the two former fronts and exceeded them in the latter, they would crumble sooner or later.

That wasn't even taking into account the necessity of talented commanders and officers who were needed to make sure everything went right. The bastard daughter of Valyria was first and foremost a mercantile city, thus any talent towards the war aspect of running a pseudo-kingdom was almost guaranteed to be held back by the ridiculous amount of bureaucracy and red tape.

After all, war wasn't good for trade, at least not when you lacked a capable arms industry sans shipbuilding.

Credit where credit was due, Antaryon at least had the wisdom to let him publicly take the lead of these forces. His 'last minute' hiring of the Golden Company has spread dissatisfaction among the allied forces, with no one liking the fact that he'd not bothered to consult any of them on the matter.

Making it more of a necessity to let someone else lead the hastily built alliance, otherwise there would likely be a mutiny.

Another thing Erlend took note of, was the fact that while there was a sprinkle of Mudd loyalists and neutrals within this Braavosi army, the positions that actually commanded relevant authority were all occupied by Ferrago's men.

In the heat of the battle, this would no doubt be crucial to ensuring the man's scheme went as smoothly as possible.

"Your Majesty, surely we should rest now. The men are tired and it would be disastrous if they were to face those savages head-on at the moment." Think of the devil and he shall appear.

"I hear no complaints from my men or the Company, Antaryon and I'm quite disappointed with how your men have been acting lately." Erlend didn't hold back.

They had only been marching for a few hours. If these idiots couldn't handle this, then what use would they be in a prolonged battle?

"Still, if the scouts are to be believed, we are nearing their camp. We must not take any chances and rest whilst we still can afford to." The Sealord insisted, and all the while his toadies echoed their thoughts.

His officers and those from the Golden Company rebutted Braavosi's reasoning, citing the lack of natural defenses and the vulnerable position they would all be in if they set camp in this area.

That would be practically asking the Dothraki to come and harass them, turning his plan to give the men some rest pointless.

Just because the man willingly gave up command, didn't mean he would not do his best to undermine Erlend's decisions. If it wasn't for his desire to complete the plan that's been brewing since he first sat his ass on the Realmstone throne, the rat would've gotten a diffindo to the neck long ago.

Or not, Erlend did want to draw out the overambitious man's death. Just a few crucios here and there, nothing too grand.

Giving the man a scathing glare, "You are a politician first and foremost, Antaryon, thus I shall forgive your inexperience at this moment. We all agreed that I would take full command over these forces, therefore we will continue to march, till a sufficiently defensive position is found." Rebuking the Sealord, whilst putting him in his place.

Gritting his teeth at the perceived insult, "Your Majesty…" The man started.

"Do I make myself clear, Anataryon?" Sharply cutting off the man before he could begin whatever tirade he intended.

"Yes, your Majesty." Ferrgo grudgingly said, his eyes glaring holes into Erlend.

Rolling his eyes at the fool, Erlend turned his attention back to the front, he had no patience to deal with morons this early in the morning. Why had he even made them march so soon… Ah, it was to piss off Antaryon and make him as uncomfortable as possible.

In actuality, it was more to exhaust the traitor's men, who were not used to such harsh regimes.

…

(Visenya 'Blackfyre')

The Company had broken off from the Dothraki to join up with Braavosi and the Banners just a few days ago.

She was flabbergasted at the fact the idiotic Sealord had requested, with a lot of gold naturally, that they meet with the savages in the first place to get everything straightened out.

Her high command spent quite a bit of time insulting the Sealord after that, both explicitly and implicitly in front of the man's toadies.

Considering his foolish attempt to discredit her, Visenya wholeheartedly believed that the man only did so just so he can stage the fucking farce in the first place. With his latest scheme completely falling through, the idiot had finally requested that they join up with the rest of the alliance.

Which turned out as well as expected, already she could see some of the neutrals and Mudd loyalists threatening to oust him as Sealord for his 'brash' decision.

Her spymaster had reported that there had been some talks by prominent loyalists to join up in personal union with the Sunset Kingdoms with Erlend as the knot that bound them. The allure of free trade and the access to immense resources at a reduced price had them salivating.

Much to her irritation. She and Erlend hadn't publicly interacted beyond what was required to further the illusion that everything was going to plan and that the trap was working perfectly.

Alas, the price to pay for future security. It was incredibly boring, and she was itching to gut someone. At least she had the Maiden to distract her and talk with, the goddess was a fountain of knowledge and it was entertaining listening to what her ancestors got up to. 

They had also both quickly realized that Erlend suspected something if the raised eyebrow he sent her when they first meant was of any indication. She knew the only reason he had not questioned her, was because he was able to sense the fact that she wasn't in any danger.

Otherwise, knowing him. He'd have just wiped out his enemies immediately, just so he could make sure she was safe.

She knew her beloved too well. While he loved to play his games, if needed, he would not hesitate to break the veil that hid his true abilities, especially when it concerned the safety of his loved ones.

Ah, she wanted to embrace Erlend now. Antaryon had a lot to answer for.

'You're insane.'

…

The two sides faced each other solemnly.

It was obvious to all those present that the Dothraki greatly outnumbered them, in fact, she was confident that they somehow managed to gather even more of their fellow savages whilst the alliance marched towards them.

It wouldn't be out of the question, after all, should her beloved come out unscathed from this all. His next target would undoubtedly be Vaes Dothrak and the rest of the savages. Their usefulness and their god's provocations meant they were running out of time.

Not that she cared a bit, darling was free to wipe these parasites from the continent if he so wished.

Antaryon might appear tense and wary towards their supposed enemies, but Visenya could tell that he was inwardly gleeful at the increase. This was good news for him.

Erlend's silent deadpan towards the Sealord wasn't missed by those who knew him well. 

As far as the Braavosi were concerned, the more horsefuckers that appeared, the higher the chances of this trap succeeding.

She raised an eyebrow bemusedly at the subtle divide within the so-called alliance, her beloved had cleverly separated his loyalists from the conspirators, ironically using the neutrals as a buffer between the two.

No doubt, Antaryon had wholeheartedly agreed, assuming it would make things far easier to carry out if he didn't need to worry about confusion during battle.

As for the neutrals, neither side gave a shit about them, so they were likely to die once everything was done and over with.

She watched as Erlend's left-hand man silently moved to his side, quietly conveying something to the conqueror. Her beloved didn't show any outward reaction to whatever information he was given, but the look he sent towards the Dothraki wasn't exactly pleasant.

'These savages have indeed survived for too long. What your ancestors were thinking, by letting them survive, I really could not fathom.' The maiden broke her silence, Visenya could practically imagine her face scrunched in disgust.

"They were a useful enough buffer against Yi Ti, at least according to the journals left behind by my ancestors."

Whilst the Targaryens were a minor family in Valyria, they were still Dragonlords and thus held far more influence than just about anyone who didn't belong to the forty within the freehold. Knowing about the Dothraki and why they were never gotten rid of didn't surprise her.

'Utter foolishness, those stuck-up peacocks didn't care a wit about anyone that didn't belong to their 'divine' bloodline.'

"Yet, they still hunted the Mudds down long after the fall of the Maroon Dynasty." She pointed out.

'It was all about legitimacy and such other rot, you mortals love to put much emphasis on claims from days long past.'

She wasn't wrong, even now, despite the Blackfyre blood being as diluted as it was. They still clung to their 'claim' over the Iron Throne with a burning passion. This is despite there being no Iron Throne to claim anymore.

"Hush now, things are finally getting to the good part." Visenya quieted down her divine counterpart as three foolish savages slowly made their way toward the alliance.

The burning hatred and fear in their eyes for Erlend was painfully obvious to all those present. There was no love to be had for her beloved from the savages, this was the man that regularly burned their people to ashes whenever the mood struck.

She rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy of it all. Never mind the fact that they were the ones who raided and destroyed everything in their wake.

"Maegi!" Venom spewed from the lead savage's mouth.

Chuckling to himself, Erlend gave the three identified blood riders a bemused smirk, "Last I checked, I still had my cock, the same can't be said about you."

Silence once again blanketed the area, the three savages looking at each other, confused about his choice of words. There he went again, referring to something only he knew about.

Probably a battle with another savage from days past.

Having little patience for whatever was happening, Antaryon stepped forward. "We shall meet in battle tomorrow, your days of spreading devastation in these lands shall end." He said, though who he was actually talking to was a mystery.

"Enjoy what little time you have left. I have no mercy left in me to give." Erlend warned those around him, not taking them seriously whatsoever.

Blatantly turning his back to the three blood riders and making his way towards his men.

Visenya knew better than to underestimate her beloved, she was sure that his draconian children were somewhere nearby and that he had several curses at the ready should Antaryon and his conspirators choose to take action now.

The look the Sealord sent her beloved was that of contempt and self-assurance. His confidence in the trap practically permeated the air around him.

Whether he'd keep that expression by the end of all this, no one knows.

The three blood riders took one last glance at each other, spat at the ground where Erlend had stood, and returned. With only their clenched fingers revealing their frustration at the brazen insult sent their way.

To a warrior, there was nothing more demeaning than your opponent refusing to take you seriously.

Visenya shook her head at the mummer's farce that played right in front of her, she could not wait for the coming event.

'How about a wager?' Her divine counterpart suggested.

"Go on then, I'm listening."

…

(Ferrago Antaryon, Battleground)

Standing at the far back, Ferrago observed Mudd and his lickspittles facing the savage hordes of unreliable allies.

It took a lot of effort not to strangle the supposed Conqueror for his jabs and insults. Mentioning Riana hit a sore spot that Ferrago wished to never recall, to this day that harlot refused to even entertain the idea of sharing their marital bed.

If their marriage wasn't the only thing keeping him from outright bankruptcy, she would already be sleeping with the fishes.

Watching the battle ongoing right in front of him. A hint of madness and undisguised glee appeared in his eyes as his worst enemy rode to his inevitable death, his Banners following swiftly behind him as he impressively cut through the savages, harvesting life wherever the legendary blade he wielded went.

No matter how much the Sealord despised the man in front of him, there was no denying the sheer skill the man had.

It did not matter, behind him a loud creaking was audible, as the scorpions were brought to the ready, each reinforced bolt coated with the dragon-slaying elixir.

There was a reason Ferrago wanted to slow down the march. These scorpions had to be discreetly moved towards the battlefield, all the while avoiding scouts from the Banners. The savages had asked to be put in charge of them, but Ferrago refused, wanting the glory of bringing down the fearsome beasts to be held solely by him.

Thankfully, the scorpions had arrived just in time. The three monstrous creatures let out ear-piercing roars and flew toward the terrified horde of Dothraki.

An exuberant laugh escaped the Sealord, "Send the signal, NOW!" He bellowed to the retainer.

The man with practiced ease swiftly carried out his orders, with several loud horns that could be heard all over the battlefield, catching the attention of the participants and momentarily distracting the creatures that were wreaking havoc.

Unfortunately for Mudd, it was too late, as a piercing shrill sounded close to Ferrago before hundreds of bolts sped towards the unsuspecting dragons. A look of shock and horror spread on Mudds face much to the joy of the Sealord who watched the man get pierced by the blade of his opportunistic enemy.

Everything went so well that Antaryon felt like he was dreaming.

Both the Braavosi and the Company had taken advantage of the momentary shock and confusion of the Banners to deal a decisive blow against their true enemies, with that silver-haired bitch claiming the life of one of Mudd's commanders, a Feld or something.

He would deal with her later, now he laughed loudly, watching the Dragon's let out simultaneous roars of pain as the bolts pierced right through their supposedly invulnerable scales.

One even took a bolt to the eye just like that of the Targaryen bitch in the past.

Ferrago was brought to hysterics as he collapsed to his knees, feelings of euphoria and completion filling him now that everything had to fruition. Gazing at the corpse of his most reviled enemy, whose opponent proudly claimed the legendary blade of his House as a spoil of war.

Better yet, those Mudd loyalists and neutrals found themselves being slaughtered to the last man, unable to react to the sudden shift in battle as allies turned against one another.

Yet, there was something tugging in his mind, the Sealord didn't want to pay any attention to it all, but the feeling of oddness kept pushing.

A cold metallic object was placed close to his neck, taking him by surprise.

"I hope the show was enjoyable, Anataryon." A familiar voice sounded, catching him off guard, as Ferrago uneasily turned.

There, right in front of him was his supposedly dead rival, standing casually while holding a blade to the Sealord's neck. Besides him, with her hands on his shoulders was a hauntingly beautiful valyrian looking at him as if he was the lowliest of beings.

"Shall we let the real show begin now, darling?" Her husky voice sent shivers down the Sealord's spine, as euphoria abruptly turned to horror.

This was impossible, they were enemies. 

NO! HE WAS DREAMING! HE HAD TO BE…

Trembling, Ferrago turned back once more to see a much different landscape, behind him malevolent eyes stared with pure contempt.

The uninjured monstrosities glided in the air, unconcerned by the scattered bolts that were below them, many even taking the lives of the confused savages and Braavosi below them.

"No…"

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Note: Am I blue balling you like this, I guess? This just felt like the perfect ending to the chapter, so I went with it. I had initially entertained the idea of just having Erlend instakill everyone, but that felt so boring and predictable, so we're gonna drag this out lads, the fun way, of course, it is a 69 after all. Cheers!