Port Wrath, 8th Month of 54 AC
Inland he'd had no choice but to go. To resupply the Rotted Knot and the two galleys that were to arrive in harbour within a few days time though Ty had need take an excursion to call upon an apothecary in Port Wrath if they were to be sailing anywhere soon. The blow that his Lord Cousin had dealt him in the chin had broken a tooth which had persisted in its sensitivity and the swelling. His jaw had yet to dwindle in size with a dull ache along the bone leaving him suspicious that a shard of the tooth remained embedded beneath the gum. His saliva still bore a pinkish hue. The wound was sore enough that he did not chance to smoke while they'd spent the weeks at sea else he was like to aggravate the split in his tongue let alone the gums that seeped. Nor did he partake any more than the necessary functions of eating, drinking and speaking.
Oft as he could, Tyson had retreated up the mast to his crow's nest overhead. Descending only when the Lord Merrick came adeck as he felt some obligation to act intermediary. Most instances of brushing shoulders with the man had earned a shove and a shout that Ty felt not in a position to protest lest the wroth be directed to the men in the Rotted Knot's employ.
As they had sailed, a bucket of water had been lowered repeatedly into the ocean. Not a drop of it of was fit for drinking yet Tyson took to swilling the sea water in place of his evening wine. Half a result of his finest vintages were stored in the quarters his Lord Cousin had commandeered, not keen upon the lesser barrels in the cargo or the grog for the men. Yet he had been taught early into his sailing career that the salt water while fickle in most aspects could aid in the cleansing of wounds when a man was without means of alternative treatment. The salt brought with it a stinging yet so too did it soothe. Some.
Better the fragment be extracted and drained before any infection took root. A process that Tyson was not enthused by as the removal of the bulk of the tooth had not been a particularly pleasant experience. The healer had need widen the wound to rid the shard from his mouth. The draught he had drank to settle him during the work only middlingly effective and the apothecary had denied the use of wine to ward the rest of the pain away as an inconvenience that need for now be endured. Two additional pieces of enamel to accompany the first that had been set to the tray. The last taken from Ty brought forth a groan of relief as the tension that had held his neck so stiff had abated enough to ease the sensation of swallowing.
He had been sent away with a bag full of ground herbs he was to steep in hot water over the course of the next week to stave off any infection that might occupy the gap of where the broken bits of his teeth had been. Ty resolving to sip it and sea water, reckoning that between the two he should manage a recovery quick enough. And what the two in tandem could not accomplish, the wine he intended to partake in ought soak up the rest.
Having had his purse pilfered by his cousin with no so much a copper left to him as Lord Merrick had made his way out the city and through the Mistwood, Tyson had need borrow the coin from his companions. Rife with frustration for the fact that Merrick had made a beggar of him when these last years had been spent fulfilling a goal of near-to-self sufficiency. He was within a stone's throw of accomplishing just that yet the bit of maintenance fees he need borrow from Gallowsgrey to keep his modest fleet afloat had come at cost eclipsed by the blade the Lord of the Gallows had pilfered alongside his purse.
He had needed to lean further upon Alinor and Ronnal as came to the cause of resupply for the ships. Tyson able to arrange the deliveries yet no merchant was mad enough to surrender their stock ahead of receiving payment. Work of such a sort that Tyson typically could conduct it autonomously yet the ferrying back and forth between vendors and his crew had slowed the process significantly enough that the invoice had not been cleared until the Violet Bolt and Driftwood Antler at last come ashore, trailing after his own vessel as they had idled in King's Landing during the time that Tyson had taken to divert to Dragonstone. Word issued to them to regroup in Port Wrath.
As the coin had not come from him, Tyson had deemed it fair to see to the loading of both galleys ahead of the Rotted Knot. Alinor's ship being the flagship, he frequently saw to replenishing it first while reviewing his sea charts. The antler oft required rechecking. Ronnal was a man of many admirable quality yet foresight was a broad blind spot for the Baratheon, Tyson had since first acquiring the fleet reviewed the manifest of the ship to ensure none of its inventory had been shorted, misplaced or misappropriated by the crew on loading and prior to departure. Most accounted for bar a few frivolous supplies meant to arrive imminently.
The Rotted Knot he had therefore left for last. It would take several days more for the last order of pickled preserves to be brought aboard though dried rations had been stored away already, along with the heavy grains that would sustain the sailors through rough seas to maintain their body mass. Ty had brought fresh wine aboard for himself and a few cured meats he was particular to, half of which he gave over to William Orren who he entrusted with overseeing the last deliveries while Tyson went ashore for rest in a local tavern.
Well into his cups when the boatswain came to call on him the save evening. He'd waved vaguely for Billy to join him for a round in the inn after his hard day's work but the man refused, his energy frantic, "That masked cunt," the man explained, "He doubled back to the Knot and ran your officers off. He thrust Jaime in the belly with that rippled blade he stole whilst the rest scrambled away."
Tyson had hastened then to secure his boots, chasing after his bosun yet the trek had taken too long. The lines that secured the ship to the dock undone before William had reached the tavern to report the theft in process being done by the Lord Trant. By the time they had descended themselves to the dock, the boat was adrift in the bay bound east in what could have been at best a skeleton crew who would within weeks be left scant of supply if Ty's assessment of what remained in the harbour was accurate. Merrick, he knew, would not chance to seek sanctuary in the south so adamantly did he despise the Dornish. And the ports nearest north were not like to receive him warmly if the energy in Dragonstone was any example. The whole purpose of Tyson being held on the isle being that the Lord Trant was too uneasy to be ferried to King's Landing in his crossing.
He stood, observing his purple sail through his Myrish lens be swallowed by the vast horizon to predict that the only viable route Merrick might attempt would be to skip across the Narrow Sea. The why of which he would not learn until after he had called on his companions to convene on the course they need urgently take to recover the Rotted Knot as not for a second had Tyson entertained the thought of surrendering his vessel without intent to pursue. That galley had been bought by his own coin, earned through his own sweat and blood. The stealing of his steel he had sustained with patience but the theft of his ship Ty would not suffer the insult of.
By chance he encountered a set of his cousins on the way who had been in close chase behind the Lord Merrick who had gained ground on them absconding through the woods near to the Crow's Nest. Less than a half hour shy of reaching the vagrant Lordling where he might have been halted in the harbour which had brought a bout of cursing out of Morrison who thought their chance to reclaim his niece lost. Until Tyson had issued the command to ready the two ships with sailed stained indigo for readying to disembark.
"Be aboard before the mooring lines are brought in should you seek another swing as Merrick," he instructed sternly as it would leave his kin less than two hours time to decide if their pursuit stretched no further than the continent they stood at edge of now. A wide world laid across the other side of the sea. Plenty of ground for the Lord to be lost in if left out of sight too long.