The Fight For The Cub

[Wymmerdann]

Casyr felt horror twist a gut already wrenched by hours of sea travel. He had not travelled well, and his face was pale, his cheeks sunken as he assessed matters through the lens of his personal far-eyes.
He heard his Uncle Tommen’s words and a shiver ran up his spine. Many could die, not out of any malice, but sheer incompetence. Someone should have anticipated this risk, and yet, none had. He was confronted with chaos and given the choice of fleeing from it or recklessly advancing into it. Each choice felt like a trap, a chance to be proven a craven or a fool.

As Lady Amyra approached him, Casyr snapped his far-eyes shut, perturbed by the sight of the hazardous landings and near misses. He must plot the third course. “If you are willing to shoulder that responsibility, then I am inclined to put my faith in you,” Casyr replied sombrely, forcing gravitas into his tone was like donning clothes made for a taller and more experienced man, a man like his father. “But we must think not just of ourselves, for a great many lives are in peril who are thinking in just the same way. We must coordinate with other ships and bring as many to safety as we can.”

“Do we have signalling flags, that might normally be used to coordinate with other ships in harbour?” he inquired of Captain Waters, “They will be useful here, with ships running too close to one another, they will be easily visible, and serve to remind captains that larger vessels ought give way to smaller craft.”

He gestured to his long shadow, “Ser Beryl I must grant you the task of making this ship twice as imposing by lending your stature to the waving of such flags – take your instruction from the ship’s signalman.”

“Master Pyke,” he nodded to the mercenary, feeling even more the untested youth in comparison to such a veteran “clear everyone but our immediate retainers and the crew from the deck, lest they interfere with smooth sailing.

“Lady Heartly,” his tongue suddenly felt too big in his mouth, “there are a number of animals below that are as dangerous in this chaos as they are irreplaceable. Please, I leave them in your care.”

“Uncle Tommen, Mother," he added, “we must identify those who may actually know what they are doing and can help us bring chaos from such madness. Ships belonging to houses that have harbours of their own, that know the risk in this moment and have the experienced crew required to coordinate. Hightower, Lannisters, Graftons, Manderlys, Velaryons.” He almost added “Darklyns” before remembering the King’s Justice “Rykkers”. And friends inclined to listen to our signal.”

He paused, catching his breath and leaning against the side of the ship. To cover the moment of weakness he drew the far-eyes again and scanned nearby ships, hoping that his voice had seemed less strained, presumptuous and foolhardy than it had sounded in his own ears.