Suleiman's eyes fell on Tytos. Blackwood.
The Black Crow's fingers unconsciously tapped on the hilt of the sword, his eyes wandered, and his lips opened and closed several times, but he could not utter a single word. He was thinking about his Crow Roost City, his plundered land and people.
Suleiman looked away, as if not aware of the embarrassment. "It's over."
He spoke, his voice not loud, but it attracted the attention of everyone in the tent.
"Go find some empty grain bags, the more the better."
Suleiman's finger tapped lightly on the map.
"Fill it with dirt, sand, or anything that will make it look heavy."
He turned to Tytos. Blackwood.
"Master Tytos, ask your people to send this food and grass into my camp to make the noise louder."
Tytos. Blackwood's eyes widened suddenly. He instantly understood the purpose of this plan. These sandbags would become the boulder that crushed Ironborn's last hope, letting them understand that the road to confrontation and consumption had been completely blocked.
Suleiman's voice is very soft, but it carries a power that penetrates people's hearts.
"This war will be decided soon."
He stood up and looked around at all the Riverlands nobles in the tent. Expectation and anxiety were written on every face.
Suleiman knows and understands that although these little military nobles who were born for fighting all think that the plan makes sense, they still want to do things that suit their status, fight bravely on the battlefield, and gain their own honor.
"From the words of the surrendered Ironborn, it can be basically inferred that the total price of their robbery proceeds is about 200,000 Gold Dragon, or even more."
Two hundred thousand Gold Dragon, this number is like a huge stone smashed into a calm lake.
The tent suddenly fell into a dead silence, and even the sound of breathing disappeared. Then, heavy and rapid breathing sounded one after another, like a drowning person fighting for air.
Everyone's eyes lit up, shining with naked light.
Suleiman is very satisfied with this reaction. He risks losing his head. Working hard to fight is nothing more than getting promoted and making a fortune. Westeros's channel for advancement has been completely lost. The chance of civilians becoming knights is almost non-existent, the chances of proletarian knights becoming wealthy knights are slim, and the chances of wealthy knights becoming hereditary lords are slim.
Then all that is left is to make a fortune, to make a small fortune by winning small battles, and to make a big fortune by winning big battles.
What he has to do is to link the victory or defeat of the war with the soldiers' path to wealth. "According to the principle of dividing the fat among the three horses, after victory, each of the knights in the army will receive one hundred and twenty Gold Dragon."
The flames of fanaticism ignited in everyone's eyes, and some young hedge knights even clenched their fists, their knuckles turning white from exertion. They were knights without masters. They were so poor that they often slept in the wild and slept under the hedge at night. Their armors were already in tatters, and they had nothing but knighthood.
This time, I came to respond because I heard that Lymond. Lychester issued a summons in the hope of winning something from the war.
Suleiman paused there, letting the number ferment in everyone's mind, and just looked at everyone with a smile. A set of ordinary and complete full-body steel armor equipment in Westeros only costs 800 Silver Stag, which is about four Gold Dragon. One hundred and twenty can allow them to wear thirty sets.
For a long time, the knights who were intoxicated with beautiful fantasy finally raised their heads and looked at Suleiman with burning eyes and red faces.
Suleiman raised his hand and his voice suddenly rose, like a red-hot iron drill, piercing into everyone's boiling desires.
"It's more than that."
He waved his hand, as if chasing away a pack of impatient wolves.
"Go and declare it, my lords."
"Go and declare to the whole army, let them know why they are fighting."
"According to the principle of sharing the fat among three horses, as long as the war is won, every soldier who participated in the battle will be rewarded with five Gold Dragon after the war."
"I will also use part of my share of the loot as an additional bounty."
As soon as the words fell, the knights in the tent were like ignited powder keg. They saluted quickly, turned around and rushed out of the tent, got on their horses, and galloped through the camp array, shouting loudly the promise of Suleiman.
"As long as the war is won!"
"One hundred and twenty Gold Dragon for each knight!"
"Five Gold Dragon per soldier!"
"Master Suleiman has another reward!"
The news quickly spread throughout the camp like Wildfire.
There were sporadic cheers at first, but as the news spread like a plague, it soon merged into a thundering sound.
Finally, the entire military camp was chanting a name rhythmically and crazily.
"Suleiman!"
"Suleiman!!"
"Suleiman!!!"
Earth-shaking cheers erupted from all over the camp, one wave after another, and finally converged into a sound wave that shook the earth and soared into the sky.
The sounds of spears hitting shields, the sounds of weapons clashing, and people roaring with all their strength were intertwined into a war song called greed and desire.
Tytos. Blackwood was stunned on the spot. He listened to the roar of the mountains outside and felt like a tsunami.
He had seen soldiers motivated by honor, and troops driven by faith, but he had never seen anyone use money so nakedly to bind an army into a greedy and deadly whole.
Would an army composed of interests, desires, and greed, rather than one connected by faith, honor, and emotion, really be a good army? At least he would not want his army to become a beast of desire and greed.
It took him a long time to find his voice. "Suleiman."
"You may be the most generous lord in Westeros."
He paused and added.
"No, I'm afraid it's not just Westeros, Narrow Sea is on the other side... even the most generous person in the world."
Tytos. Blackwood wanted to say something, but when the words came to his lips, he swallowed them back.
Strictly speaking, Suleiman has no right to dispose of that wealth. It is the wealth that Ironborn looted the land of West Riverlands. If the war is victorious, it should be returned to each family or handed over to House Tully for disposal.
Moreover, some of the property belonging to House Blackwood was robbed by Ironborn. Logically speaking, he has the right to claim back his own part.
But to ask for his own share from a commander who distributed the spoils to the entire army who fought bloody battles, to be honest, he couldn't do it. These Warrior who fought bravely should be rewarded.
He is willing to give House Blackwood of property to this young man to reward the army, but if he privately divides the property looted from other families, it will obviously cause extremely serious political trouble for the young man in front of him.
To say or not to say, to advise or not to advise, these thoughts were swirling in his mind.
He thought that for Riverlands's peace, this young man had indeed paid and sacrificed a lot. Maybe this young man didn't know what it meant to privately share the looted property from Ironborn, but he still planned to tell him, "Suleiman, you'd better...
Suleiman seemed to see what Tytos. Blackwood wanted to say.
He stood up with a smile on his face, walked to Tytos. Blackwood, reached out and patted his black feather cloak, and interrupted him, "Don't say anything that is not conducive to making a fortune."
"Tytos-sama."
Suleiman turned around and looked at the map again.
"I need a commander who can overwhelm the knights, an experienced commander, and lead an army to spread out."
"No matter which option Ironborn chooses, this force must respond quickly and wait for opportunities."
Tytos. Blackwood looked up, what you said, besides me, who else could be here...
He spoke in a deep voice, with unquestionable determination in his voice. "I will lead the troops."
Suleiman nodded.
Apart from Tytos. Blackwood, there is no second choice to make Riverlands, the knights who have titles and belong to the same noble rank, obey orders.
The Reader Rodrik. Harlaw walked quickly to Victarion. Greyjoy.
Iron Fleet Commander-in-Chief is like a silent stone statue, quietly staring at the Riverlands people's military camp.
The originally silent enemy camp suddenly began to boil at this moment, and the huge shouts were still clearly audible across the wide river, as if they were mocking their hunger and stupidity.
The battle they were looking forward to did not happen. Riverlands people carried bulging sacks one by one into the camp amidst cheers.
The opponent made up his mind to use the camp walls and food to consume them alive.
The Reader Rodrik. Harlaw said in a hoarse voice, "Commander-in-Chief, we must make a decision early."
"It's already the third day, and the Warriors are complaining about the reduced rations. There are more and more fights in the camp over a little food."
"How can you fight if you can't even fill your stomach?"
Victarion. Greyjoy rubbed his giant ax with his palm. He had experienced countless battles in his life, but he had never fought such a battle.
It's oppressive, disgusting, nauseating, like being slowly tightened by an invisible net.
Rodrik. Harlaw's voice revealed a sense of powerlessness. "We can't consume it any longer! Commander-in-Chief!"
He took a step forward and his tone became fierce.
"Now is the time to attack! At least we can die like true Ironborn! With our axes!
Let those Riverlands people pay the price!"
"Put it off any longer! We won't wait for the Riverlands people to attack! We ourselves will collapse under the influence of hunger and sleepiness!"
Victarion. Greyjoy slowly turned his head and looked at his subordinates with his deep-set eyes. "What if we choose to abandon the fleet and cargo?"
"What will happen? Harlaw?"
The Reader Rodrik. Harlaw was silent. He could imagine such a scene.
Victarion. Greyjoy gives the order, half of the people will refuse to leave for the sake of the looted treasures, and the other half will curse and part ways.
A divided army will only become prey in the enemy's territory.
He shook his head with difficulty. "Many people will not agree. This will definitely lead to the division of the team and the separation of military morale."
"That Riverlands boy just needs to follow us, watch us continue to weaken, look for opportunities, and launch attacks."
Victarion. Greyjoy's iron fist slammed into the tree beside him, making a muffled sound.
For the first time, he looked at the camp on the other side with such ferocious eyes, his eyes seemed to want to eat the young commander alive. He knew that he had lost, completely.
After a long time, he unclenched his fists and his tense shoulders slumped.
His voice was very soft, with a trace of exhaustion that even he himself was not aware of. "I have tried my best."
"In that case... let's separate the teams."
"Let those who want to live, let the young people, find their own way.
"The rest of you, stay here with me and let the Riverlands people pay the price."
Rodrik. Harlaw was shocked. He wanted to speak out to refute. If he did, the situation would even be worse.
How could that cunning Riverlands commander not make good use of scouts? Every path and every forest in this land is probably covered with his eyes.
Once they divide their forces, they will only be defeated individually.
Rodrik. Harlaw wanted to say it, but he saw the eyes of Victarion. Greyjoy. There was no anger and pride in those eyes, only endless fatigue and sorrow.
He knew that Commander Iron also understood this.
Victarion. Greyjoy turned around, his burly body facing the turbid river water, as if facing his own fate, no longer looking at the enemy's camp, nor his own subordinates.
His eyes seemed to be able to see through layers of land, seeing the vast sea, the rocks of Pyke, and himself driving a long boat, galloping on the rough waves.
Victarion. Greyjoy whispered softly, and the voice was almost blown away by the wind. "Drowned God bless you."
Dawn, the skyline finally lit up, and the somber atmosphere silenced the birds.
Victarion. Greyjoy summoned all Warrior. The suffering of the past few days made his face haggard and his eye sockets were sunken. Only those eyes were burning with the final, tragic determination in the abyss of despair.
His voice was hoarse, but like a bell, it reached everyone's ears clearly. "There is no other way."
He didn't lie, and he didn't intend to lie.
He cut open the cruelest reality and displayed it bloodyly in front of everyone. "Look around us! We are trapped and dead here!"
"That coward hiding behind the wall! Is using hunger and time to hang us!"
"We must make a choice! Fight to death! Or humiliate and survive!"
There was a commotion and discussion in the crowd immediately, and many Ironborn Warrior faces showed anger and unwillingness.
"The young people in the team...
Victarion. Greyjoy clenched his hands into fists and could no longer speak. He was not Euron. Greyjoy. He only knew how to fight and had no eloquence. He was not a person who was good at inspiring people.
The air is so thick you can almost touch it.
The Reader Rodrik. Harlaw stepped forward and took over the commander-in-chief's words: "Leave for Iron Islands"
O
The crowd instantly exploded.
"Escape? No!"
"We are Ironborn! We won't run away!"
"This is the behavior of a coward! Drowned God will spurn us!"
The comments came like a flood, mixed with anger and shame.
The Reader Rodrik. Harlaw raised the volume. His voice shocked everyone and overwhelmed all the noise.
"Survive today's humiliation!"
"It's for Iron Islands! It's for leaving the power of revenge!"
"Sooner or later! We will come back! We will bring a hundred times the fleet! Flatten this damn land I
"Cut off the head of Riverlands named Suleiman! Use his blood to wash away today's shame!"
The crowd fell silent, the word revenge was like an iron nail, nailing their restless hearts in place.
Victarion. Greyjoy watched his younger brother Aeron. Greyjoy walk out of the crowd. Ever since Seaguard fell into the water during the battle, his younger brother seemed to be different from before and became a fanatical believer of Drowned God.
Aeron. Greyjoy's voice was very soft but firm. "Seaguard, the sea water did not drown me."
"It's because Drowned God protects me and all Drowned God's people."
"I'll take them away."
Victarion. Greyjoy nodded, without any extra words, just patted Aeron. Greyjoy on the shoulder.
More than two thousand Ironborn were selected, mostly nephews and young Ironborn Warrior from various families.
With a sense of guilt, humiliation, and a faint glimmer of hope, they prepared to hide in the forest on the west side when the battle was at its fiercest.
When the first ray of sunlight pierced the morning fog, Victarion. Greyjoy put on his sea monster battle helmet and commanded more than four thousand Ironborn to start forming an array within the sight of the Riverlands people.
Victarion. Greyjoy stood in front of the formation, raised his huge battle ax, used all his strength, and roared, "Blood!!!"
The Warriors behind him responded to him, chanting ancient war cries, mixed with simple syllables.
"Blood!"
"Blood!!"
"Blood!!!"
The roars gathered into a crazy torrent, and they stepped forward like a black tide, slowly advancing towards the Riverlands camp.
On top of the wooden wall, Suleiman was wrapped in a thick black cloak and quietly looked at the crowds of people below, without any change in his expression.
Rosso rushed to his side, saluted respectfully, and said with a hint of excitement in his voice, "Sir, Ironborn has divided the troops."
"A force of about two thousand people is moving towards the forest on the west side!"
Suleiman's mouth curled up with a cold arc, and everything happened according to the script.
His voice was clear and steady, cutting through the hustle and bustle that gradually arose on the battlefield as people ran around shouting orders, "Order the archers, the crossbowmen."
"Fire volleys in rotation, don't save arrows, let go of shooting."
"Light the smoke and notify Tytos. Blackwood that his prey has entered the cage."
Thick black smoke rose into the sky, sending a message of death into the distance.
Suleiman's gaze passed over Ironborn who was walking forward with his shield raised, and accurately landed on the tall figure in the front, Victarion. Greyjoy.
He could feel the eyes of the other party looking at him burning with hatred.
Victarion. Greyjoy's roar shook the whole world, "Suleiman! You coward! Shame!!"
"Get off your wooden wall! Stop acting like a woman!! Fight me like a man!!!"
Suleiman looked down at that Ironborn Giants and spoke slowly.
His voice had a strange penetrating power and reached Victarion. Greyjoy's ears clearly. "Welcome to Riverlands, Victarion. Greyjoy."
These incomprehensible words made Victarion. Greyjoy pause in his steps. He raised his head and looked at the young man on the wall.
Suleiman's voice contained no emotion, as if stating an established fact. "Your war is about to end."
"And our war has just begun."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes like swords, as if he wanted his words to penetrate deeply into the soul of Victarion. Greyjoy.
"Before you die."
"Pray to your Drowned God.
"Pray it will bless you."
"Otherwise, when my boots step onto the beach of Iron Islands, the history of Ironborn will have come to an end."
"I will make the sea forget that you ever existed."