House Grell's main castle hall has long lost its former dignity. The precious brocade tapestries were roughly torn off the walls and spread haphazardly on the stone floor, soaked with dripping grease and filth.
The air was mixed with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and barbecue, which was nauseating.
On the long oak dining table, the plates and cutlery were pushed aside. The Ironborns used their daggers to cut off the hot and oily fat from the whole roast pig, and then directly grabbed the bread with their hands and stuffed it into their mouths.
Nearly a hundred Ironborns crowded into the hall, many of them shirtless, exposing their skin that had been eroded by sea water and covered with old scars all year round. They drank the confiscated wine, banged their fists on the table, and sang vulgar ballads about Drowned Gods and sea monsters.
Roars and wild laughter echoed under the vault, shaking off the accumulated dust.
At this moment, the nominal owner of this castle, Damon. Grell, is tied up on the chair of the lord's throne in the center of this noise.
A few days ago, when Tristifer. Farwynd troops came to the city, he chose to surrender to Kaicheng for the sake of the lives of his people and his family, and surrendered to Iron Islands King Balon. Greyjoy secretly swore allegiance in exchange for Tristifer. Farwynd's promise to treat him with honor and not touch his property.
However, when Tristifer. Farwynd took the castle and garrisoned it in the name of protecting the castle, all the promises turned into a joke.
At this moment, Damon. Grell was tied to the throne of the lord of his own family. The gorgeous silk coat on his body looked extremely funny at this moment, like a clown's costume.
A huge raw radish was stuffed into his mouth, with the top almost touching his throat, making him unable to pronounce any clear syllables. The cause was his angry roar, reprimanding Ironborn for violating the oath and agreement between the two parties, daring to humiliate him and his family, and destroying his property. This was how he was treated.
Tristifer. Farwynd laughed after hearing his roar, personally found the carrot and stuffed it roughly into his mouth.
At this moment, he could only squeeze out a painful "whimpering" sound from the depths of his throat, and saliva mixed with tears of humiliation flowed down his chin, soaking into the delicate collar.
Tristifer. Farwynd patted his cheek with great force. "Lord, your voice is too loud and it affects us from enjoying your wine."
"But you have to open your eyes wide and take a good look at what Ironborn is and what a real man is."
Damon. Grell was forced to stare clearly at everything in front of him, endless regret and rage burning in his chest.
Every time Ironborn laughed wildly, every time he touched his wife and daughter lightly, it was like a red-hot iron, burning new scars on his soul.
His nails dug deeply into his palms, and blood seeped out from between his fingers, dripping onto the ground along the binding ropes.
I was wrong...
... I actually believed these treacherous sea scum!! In order to protect them!! I pushed them deeper into hell with my own hands!!!
Seven is on top!! If I had the chance to do it again!! I would rather let every stone in the castle be stained with blood!!! I would never surrender!!!
His wife, Mrs. Elena, and his daughter Laila were being forced to serve wine for this group of pirates. They put on thin maid uniforms, with lingering tears on their faces, and their bodies were trembling slightly with fear.
Carrying heavy wine bottles, they walked gingerly among the drunken Ironborn.
One Ironborn grabbed Laila's wrist and pulled her into his arms. Laila struggled in fear and spilled some wine. The other Ironborn took advantage of Mrs. Elena's bending to pour the wine and slapped her hard behind her, causing a burst of filthy laughter.
Tristifer. Farwynd was so drunk that his face turned red. He kicked over the wine barrel next to him and the ale flowed all over the floor. C
He roared, his voice drowning out all the noise:
"It's too slow to pour wine like this!"
"Besides, how can you show your respect for the conqueror by wearing clothes?"
His words were like a spark, instantly igniting the desire of the entire hall.
"Get naked! Let them get naked!"
"Yes! Let us see the quality of noble women on land!"
"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"
The roars came one after another and merged into an evil sound. Mrs. Elena and Laila were so frightened that their faces turned pale and they hugged each other in despair. In their desperate cries, they knew how to resist.
Tristifer. Farwynd looked at this scene with satisfaction. He waved his hand. "Continue pouring wine."
Mrs. Elena and Laila were like two soulless puppets. They picked up the wine flask on the ground and continued to serve these pirates along the long table. Every time they bent down or turned around, they elicited a burst of more filthy laughter and whistles.
Damon. Grell's body twisted violently on the chair, and he groaned under the weight of the rope he was tied to. His eyes turned red due to congestion, and the sound in his throat did not sound like a human voice, but more like a dying beast trapped in a trap.
Just when the atmosphere in the hall was about to slide into a darker abyss, the heavy door of the castle was slammed open.
A Ironborn who was responsible for guarding broke in and looked at the scene in the hall with an envious look, why the hell am I responsible for guarding!
The noise of the carnival suddenly stopped, and everyone's eyes turned to him.
He strode up to Tristifer. Farwynd, ignored his breath, and loudly reported, "Captain! There is a team coming from outside the city! They are our people!"
Tristifer. Farwynd was getting excited when he was interrupted. He looked extremely impatient and pushed the soldier away:
"Who is disturbing my good deeds at such a late hour?!!"
"I don't care who they are! This castle is my prize! Chase them away!"
The Ironborn stumbled a few steps to stand still, and hurriedly said with some embarrassment, "Captain.
It's Master Maron. Greyjoy!"
Tristifer. Farwynd was stunned for a moment, and the drunkenness on his face subsided a little. "Which Greyjoy?"
Ironborn's voice was a little sharp with excitement due to the rough treatment by Tristifer. Farwynd and the noise in the hall. "Master Maron. Greyjoy!"
"King Balon's son."
"He took his crew with him and said it was an order from Commander-in-Chief Victarion."
"They want to return to Pyke and request to go to the city to rest!"
The heavy doors of the castle have been opened.
Tristifer. Farwynd staggered a few steps, and with a few of his equally drunken cronies, he stopped in front of the team and let out a soft snort. The contempt in his eyes was barely concealed:
"Master Maron?"
"What a rare visitor."
He pretended to hit his chest with his fist, and his tone was long and full of teasing.
"Welcome, son of the Kraken."
"Come in and have a drink, we are enjoying the "gracious hospitality" of Lord Grell!"