The light in Amory Lorch's eyes went out completely, leaving only boundless terror and despair.
He opened his mouth, still trying to say something-perhaps a more vicious curse, perhaps an even more abject plea for mercy...
But Aegon gave him no chance.
A cold black boot came down hard with crushing force!
It landed squarely on his fat face, twisted by terror and his attempts to protest.
Crack!
The sharp sound of breaking bone set teeth on edge, piercing the deathly silence of the courtyard.
That stomp drove every sound Amory Lorch tried to make back down his throat, turning it into an incoherent whimper mingled with shattered teeth, bone, and torn flesh.
His cheekbones, nose, and jaw all but collapsed beneath the blow.
Agony engulfed his awareness like a tidal wave, and the immense pressure made his eyes bulge.
Aegon did not lift his foot. He kept it planted firmly and heavily on that ruined face, pinning Amory's head against the cold blackstone floor.
Amory could only writhe uselessly, forcing chilling, tuneless gasps from deep in his throat as blood and saliva gushed from the corners of his mangled mouth, staining the bottom of Aegon's black boot red.
Aegon did not even glance down at the "thing" squirming beneath his foot.
One hand remained on the hilt of Autocracy at his waist, while the other drew a small but exceptionally sharp dagger from his belt.
The dagger's edge gleamed coldly in Harrenhal's gloomy light.
He raised the hand holding the dagger and beckoned.
One of the two Ashen Company soldiers who had escorted Amory Lorch forward immediately stepped up, knelt on one knee, and bowed his head to await orders.
Aegon handed him the small, cold dagger.
His voice was quiet, yet it echoed clearly through the hall, reaching