Cold, strong, and unabashed murderous intent came from all directions like a tide.
In the corner, the musician playing the Iron Islands war song was singing loudly, his fingers dancing wildly on the strings, and the noise of the music was getting louder and louder, as if he was playing for a grand drama of death and killing.
Their movements did not pause, and the smiles on their faces never faded. However, the passionate Iron Islands war song they sang and played sounded eerie and terrifying at the moment.
In the circular corridor on the second floor of the hall, the reverberation of the cup falling to the ground has not yet dissipated. Countless archers poured out of the darkness, and the trembling sound of the bowstring being pulled to the full moon and being fired continued to be heard.
The first wave of arrows roared down, and the arrows accurately covered the densest crowd in the center of the long table.
A Ironborn leader was raising a glass and laughing. An arrow penetrated his eye socket, nailing his laughter forever on his face. A Ironborn was still holding a piece of fatty barbecue that he had just torn off, and the arrow penetrated his throat.
He covered his neck, and blood and grease spurted out from between his fingers.
Chaos exploded in an instant, and many people's eyes were still full of revelry and confusion about what happened suddenly. The next moment, under the rain of arrows, they fell in pieces like wheat harvested by invisible sickles.
The killing was announced and Damon. Grell, who was sitting in the main seat, violently overturned the heavy oak table in front of him. He did not draw his sword. The muscles on his red face were twisted and his expression was as ferocious as an evil ghost.
His hoarse roar, the voice squeezed out of his throat did not sound like human speech, and only one word echoed repeatedly in the empty hall, drowning out the noisy music:
"Kill!"
"Kill!!"
"Kill!!!"
In response to his order, those huge dining carts pushing roasted whole pigs, and the House Grell knights who had just been arm-in-arm with Ironborn, violently tore open the crispy skin of the roasted pigs. Inside the hollowed-out pig belly, there were no spices or internal organs, only long swords and daggers that shone with cold light.
They drew their weapons, and with bloodthirsty and terrifying expressions, they pounced on the panicked "guests" around them.
On both sides of the hall, the side doors leading to the kitchen and storage room were also slammed open, and heavily armed House Grell soldiers poured in like a tide.
Ironborn's ferocious nature also completely exploded in the desperate situation. Some leaders with quick reactions escaped the first wave.
The second wave, the third wave of arrows.
They roared, they roared, cursing House Grell's perfidy, overturned the heavy long table, and used it as a temporary shelter. Some people grabbed the still-warm bodies of their companions and held them in front of them as human shields, rushing towards the enemy. Without weapons, Ironborn used their fists, teeth, and smashed wine glasses and plates.
Use tables and chairs.
A Ironborn was surrounded by three soldiers. He smashed one man's nose with his head and bit the other man's arm with his teeth. Even if the sword pierced his abdomen, he did not let go.
A Ironborn leader with his face covered in blood yelled, "Treacherous coward!!!!"
"Grell!! Drowned God will drag your soul into the deepest trench!!!"
"Curse of the Gods!!!"
Bloody Hair Hal was hiding behind a stone pillar, six arrows penetrated his body, and his life was draining away. He watched helplessly as the brothers he brought with him struggled in a pool of blood and were chopped down one by one. Just a short time ago,
They were still laughing, still drinking, and still discussing the bright future after allegiance. Now, this place has become a slaughterhouse.
He saw the distorted face of Damon. Grell, and saw the soldiers harvesting lives. He understood that this was a long-planned conspiracy, and they had naive illusions about "politics" and making "friends".
He happily walked into the trap and walked into the slaughterhouse.
I should have thought earlier that they are Ironborn, and they should never trust people on land.
Cleftjaw Dagmer was the target of the attack. Several House Grell knights surrounded him. He staggered back and knocked over the chair behind him, making a harsh friction sound.
He did not look at the enemies who were surrounding him. He just stared at one person, Maron. Greyjoy. He looked at this young man whom he almost regarded as his biological son, looked at his pale face, and looked at his clenched fists.
Dagmer's eyes were filled with extreme pain, incomprehensible confusion, and disappointment that was completely torn apart. He didn't understand why the child he watched grow up betrayed him and his compatriots.
He used all his strength to yell out the last question hoarsely, his voice filled with the sadness of being pierced through the heart by a loved one:
"Why... little Maron?"
But he could no longer hear the answer. At the moment when he was distracted, a House Grell long sword, held by a young knight, pierced his back mercilessly. The tip of the sword penetrated his chest, and warm blood came out from in front of him.
Dagmer lowered his head and looked at the bloody sword tip. The light in his eyes quickly dimmed. He felt that he was really ridiculous. As Ironborn, he had naive illusions about politics. Ironborn was the only one who was accustomed to conspiracy and despicable tricks. However, he led his brothers into the slaughterhouse and died in the most dishonorable and unreasonable conspiracy.
He took one last look at Maron. Greyjoy. All the emotions in his eyes had dissipated, leaving only an endless void. His body slowly fell forward to his knees, and finally, he fell heavily on the stone floor soaked with wine and blood.
The massacre came to an end, and the only sounds left in the hall were the heavy breathing of the House Grell knights and soldiers like wild beasts, and the calm sounds of last strikes.
Suleiman stood quietly on the steps, looking at the bloody feast directed by him, with no expression on his face. The person sitting next to him, Maron. Greyjoy, looked at the gradually cold corpse of Dagmer, his stomach was churning.
He couldn't bear it anymore, he bent down and vomited violently. What he vomited out was all the wine and bile he had just drank, but it was not because of fear.
Grell Castle The tallest tower, above the city wall.
The night was deep, and the cold wind blew Suleiman's cloak, making a hunting sound. He stood alone by the crenel, overlooking the Ironborn camp outside the city.
The vast camp was turning into a hell on earth at the moment. Everything was going as he planned, even smoother than expected.
The densely packed tents were ignited, and fire snakes raged in the camp. The flames were so high that the entire land was illuminated like daylight. Heavy objects pressed down on the collapsed tent, pressing Ironborn who was sleeping drunk and who had not escaped. The flames licked the tents and the prey that could not escape.
The shrill screams were carried up the high walls of the castle and blown away by the wind. The soldiers of House Grell slaughtered wildly in the camp area, venting their long-standing hatred.
At the exit of the entire camp, the knights brought by Suleiman killed any Ironborn who was lucky enough to break out of the sea of fire and massacre.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, Tytos. Blackwood walked up, his armor neatly dressed,
The long sword stayed safely in its sheath, but it did not participate in the killings in the hall, nor the killings and sieges outside the city. It just acted as a bystander.
He walked to Suleiman, not looking at the purgatory-like tragedy below, but looking at the dark horizon in the distance, with deep exhaustion on his face and a hoarse voice:
"Suleiman... This is murder...
He turned his head and looked at Suleiman's face, which was illuminated by the firelight. There was no anger in his eyes.
There is only a kind of persistence that is almost pleading to protect the final bottom line.
"Let the knights stop."
"Let those Ironborn who are injured, unable to fight anymore, and willing to throw down their weapons and surrender, have a way out."
Tytos. Blackwood's voice had an imperceptible tremor.
"What's the point of winning the war if we become the same beasts as them?"
"The way to win a war is not to turn us into beasts."
Suleiman finally looked away from the howling fire below. He looked at Tytos. Blackwood, his eyes were calm and his voice was very soft, but it clearly penetrated the sound of the wind:
"People."
"Seeking revenge when slightly hurt."
"There is nothing you can do if you are mortally wounded."
Suleiman turned around and looked back at the burning camp, at the lives that perished under the flames and swords.
"So once you choose to take action, you must do it so seriously that you no longer have to worry about retaliation."
"Whether it's a conspiracy or a war."
"As long as we take action, we must eradicate the roots and eliminate future troubles."