Have you ever heard the saying, Lord Ronald: "We Do Not Sow"?
Ronald nodded. Of course he had.
Those were the famous words of House Greyjoy, the ruling family of the Iron Islands rebels who were now fighting against the kingdom.
Suleiman spoke slowly, his gaze sweeping over the tent roof as though he were seeing the scene at Seagard that day.
Somewhere along the coast near Seagard.
"The Ironborn longships rode the waves up onto the shallows. More than a hundred Ironborn roared as they leaped into waist-deep water, their blades and battle-axes flashing in the light reflected off the sea. They didn't form ranks, or even any discernible formation. They simply spread out, shouting, and charged toward our five-hundred-strong line, drawn up in orderly ranks."
"To them, it was as if the dense array of spears and tightly packed shields before them wasn't a battle line at all, but a crowd of beauties standing naked with their legs spread, waiting for them."
"They searched our lines for openings, roaring insults and threats at our soldiers. Then, one by one, they seized every opportunity and leaped straight into our ranks. One after another, with terrifying roars, they swung their weapons, bit through our throats, quenched their thirst with our blood, and adorned themselves with our severed limbs and entrails."
"There were screams everywhere, cries of agony everywhere. Then our ranks began to collapse one after another, and our men fled."
"No matter how hoarsely the leaders at the rear shouted, no matter how they cursed, the rout came like a tide, forming with unstoppable force."
Lord Raymun Darry and Ser Ronald listened to Suleiman in silence. Neither said a word.
Suleiman looked at the two men and continued quietly, "They aren't afraid to die. They even yearn for death."
"Their god is the Drowned God. They believe that only those who die in battle can enter his halls. Those who fall in battle will feast without end in the Drowned God's Hall, and mermaids will grant their every wish."
"The people of the Iron Islands never carry money, because they pay only the Iron Price. They don't buy things with coin or goods. They take them from fallen enemies."
"They slaughter the people of the green lands, plunder their possessions, and rape their wives and daughters. To them, that's the Ironborn way of life."
"They don't need orders or encouragement. They're born to fight and plunder."
His voice was not loud, but it rang especially clearly in the quiet tent.
Lord Raymun and Ser Ronald had to admit that Suleiman was an excellent storyteller.
"And the soldiers of Darry..." Suleiman smiled as he looked at Raymun Darry and Ser Ronald.
His tone held no mockery; he was simply stating a fact. "They look like good lads, well dressed and with their weapons polished. They know how to drill, how to form ranks, and how to follow orders."
"But they're farmers, craftsmen, and townsfolk."
"Most of them have never seen war. They've merely been called up by their lord to fulfill their duty, and they've even had to provide their own equipment."
"They have homes, land, wives, children, and elderly parents."
"They fear being wounded. They fear having their limbs hacked off and being unable to work and support their families when they return."
"They fear death, because their land might be taken away and their families might starve."
"They know how to fight enemies like themselves."
"But they have no idea how to fight warriors born to plunder, to fight, and to risk their lives."
Suleiman paused and looked at Ser Ronald. "Do you still think your soldiers are as willing to fight and die as they are?"
Ser Ronald wanted badly to argue, but the scene Suleiman described was completely unlike the traditional battles of Westeros he had imagined.
For a moment, he did not know what to say.
The soldiers he had trained were meant to face the armies of other lords, in frontal battles with infantry in formation, archers providing cover, and knights charging.
He could indeed guarantee that the knights and the soldiers of House Darry would fight and die bravely, but he could not guarantee the same of the men who had been called up.
As Raymun Darry listened to Suleiman's account, a thoughtful expression crossed his young face.
He had never fought in battle. Most of what he knew about war came from books and the accounts of his elders.
Suleiman's words were brutal, yet carried a sense of truth he had never heard before.
He thought of his brothers, who had died at the Trident River in a great battle.
Raymun Darry asked, "Then what should we do?"
His question showed that he was interested in Suleiman's military insight.
But he also knew that some people were good at identifying problems without being able to solve them.
So Raymun Darry didn't put much stock in the question. He thought he could discuss the matter at the next meeting of his bannermen and knights.
Ser Ronald's expression darkened further when he saw his lord asking a sixteen-year-old boy for military advice.
Suleiman did not answer at once.
He quickly considered his options.
He knew he could not say too much or make himself seem like a military expert. That would not fit his age or the knowledge he ought to have.
After all, his family could not even afford to hire a maester, so he had no way to explain where he had learned all this. He could perhaps claim that what he knew about the Ironborn came from things he had heard during the fighting near Seagard.
Most of his knowledge came from the history, games, and novels of his former life.
He had to offer his advice carefully: useful, but not enough to expose himself.
Suleiman chose his words.
"My lord."
"I don't have Ser Ronald's wealth of experience. I'm only speaking about what I've seen and felt."
He lowered his posture first, hoping to ease Ser Ronald's hostility.
Suleiman rubbed his head.
"If I had to say, I think the key is to keep the Ironborn from using their strengths."
"The Ironborn are excellent swimmers and have no fear of drowning. They can even walk on the sea in heavy armor."
"They're good at ambushes, prefer close combat, and thrive in chaos. When raiding, they favor hit-and-run tactics that end quickly."
"They rely on their savagery and fanaticism. If our soldiers are dragged into a chaotic melee, we'll suffer heavy losses."
"But I think that if the Ironborn face an elite force drawn up in formation, they'll be no match for it, as long as we hold our ranks and leave them no openings."
He paused, organizing his next thoughts.
But if they were talking about Darry's forces—
"My suggestion is that we avoid fighting them on those terms."
"If we have no choice but to face them, perhaps we should choose terrain that favors us and find a way to disrupt their rhythm."
The core idea was to avoid their strength and play to their own, but Suleiman put it somewhat vaguely.
Ser Ronald still disliked Suleiman's opening remarks, but what the boy was saying seemed to show that he knew a little about the subject. It wasn't complete nonsense.
Still, he was surprised that a child could say such things.
Raymun Darry nodded thoughtfully. Suleiman's words were simple, but they had indeed pinpointed the heart of the problem.
Darry's forces were not suited to the Ironborn way of fighting. They had to avoid being drawn into a chaotic melee.
Raymun Darry looked at Suleiman as if he saw himself in him.
Two young nobles, both of whom had lost loved ones: one before he had ever experienced war, the other at sixteen, having witnessed the death of a loved one with his own eyes.
"Ser Ronald," Raymun Darry suddenly said.
"You heard Lord Suleiman's assessment. Take his advice into consideration."
"During the march ahead, increase reconnaissance, especially near the coast or rivers."
"Be more careful when choosing campsites, and make sure the defenses are sturdy."
"As you command, my lord." Ser Ronald glanced at Suleiman, his expression complicated.
Raymun Darry turned to Suleiman, his expression gentle. "Ser Suleiman, thank you for your advice."
That meant the conversation was over.
"Thank you, my lord." Offering Darry useful advice was a way of repaying Raymun Darry for taking him in.
During his days in the camp, Suleiman had noticed that everyone, from the common soldiers to the knights and noble officers, looked down on the Ironborn.
In their minds, the Ironborn were little more than beggars and pirates in ragged armor, armed with scrap metal or even wooden clubs.
He hoped Lord Raymun Darry would have good luck.
Suleiman silently wished him well, then turned and headed out of the tent.
Suddenly—
"Wait." Raymun Darry called out to him.
Suleiman wondered why.
Raymun Darry looked at him and said, "I want you and your two guards to share your experience fighting the Ironborn with my soldiers."
Suleiman turned back. "Do we get paid?"
Raymun Darry smiled at him. "Of course, Ser Suleiman!"
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