Ebonhead
It lay quietly within a natural harbor shaped like a parrot's beak. The long, crescent-shaped chain of coral reefs at the bay's mouth acted like the dropped arm of a god, shutting out the surging waves of the open sea, leaving only a half-mile-wide tranquil channel.
Inside the bay, the water was so clear one could see colorful schools of fish swimming over the white sandy bottom. Snow-white beaches and swaying palm trees formed a peaceful picture. Were it not for the tense figures of spear-wielding guards patrolling the walls, this place would be indistinguishable from a legendary perfect resort.
Fifty new-style longships, riding a strong southeasterly wind, their sails taut as massive black crow wings, boldly sailed into this serene bay. Two thousand Ironborn warriors stood solemnly on deck. Their iron armor and leather clothes were still wet with seawater from the charge, condensing into fine beads that shimmered with a cold, hard luster under the tropical sun.
Gorold Goodbrother of Great Wyk stood at the prow of the lead ship. His gaze swept over this seemingly harmless, beautiful bay, finally freezing on the majestic fortress at the bay's bottom.
The commanding officer clearly had a sober understanding of the Iron Islands' absolute dominance on the ocean. He had completely abandoned the idea of intercepting them in the channel or on the beachhead, shrinking all his forces into the circular fortress named "Sacred Coral Keep."
This fortress was built from massive coral blocks and white limestone. Its outer walls were painted a strong vermilion, strikingly conspicuous against the emerald sea and blue sky. It was said to be dedicated to the "Sun God" of the Summer Isles.
After landing, without hesitation, Gorold Goodbrother waved his hand to order the siege.
Ironborn warriors, carrying heavy scaling ladders, roared and charged up the soft white sand. The beautiful beach was instantly defiled by chaotic footprints and a chilling aura of death.
Gorold took the lead. Two elite warriors quickly placed a ladder against the scorching vermilion fortress wall. Holding a short spear in his reverse grip with his left hand and gripping a battle-axe tightly in his right, he climbed rapidly up the shaking rungs.
"Smash them to death!"
Defenders on the wall roared, pushing down heavy rolling stones. Gorold jerked his head aside; a massive stone crashed down past his ear with the sound of wind. Simultaneously, his battle-axe swung swiftly—BANG—shattering a sharp piece of coral thrown at his face, sparks and stone chips flying everywhere.
"Manco, you old dog! Come out and die!" Gorold let out a thunderous roar. He kicked away a defender trying to push down the ladder and agilely vaulted over the battlement.
The "Palm Guards" on the wall hurriedly swarmed over, but Gorold's battle-axe was already dancing in a deadly black whirlwind. Chopping left and right, the light rattan armor of three Palm Guards was torn like paper. Scalding blood splattered on the vermilion wall, leaving even darker stains.
A breach opened on the wall, and a steady stream of Ironborn climbed up through it.
The Ironborn led by Gorold successfully attracted most of the fortress's attention, drawing the defenders on the wall towards them.
As the slaughter was in full swing, the situation changed abruptly!
Rodrik Harlaw of Harlaw, having completed the conquest of the Red Flower Vale, had arrived with the main force. Like two iron pincers, they suddenly launched a fierce attack from both the left and right sides of the fortress. The defenders were forced to split their forces to resist, throwing their formation into chaos.
Attacked from three sides, the heavy, copper-reinforced wooden gate of the fortress slowly pushed open from the inside amidst a tooth-aching creak!
Prince Jalabhar Xho, holding a wooden shield and spear, led elite warriors swarming in, guided by insiders who had long been turned!
Attacked from both inside and out, the fortress's defense collapsed instantly.
Sacred Coral Keep was declared fallen.
Gorold Goodbrother accurately found the fleeing commander, "Coconut Shell" Manco, in the chaotic crowd. With one swing of his axe, the head filled with fear was separated from the body. Following his order, the three hundred "Palm Guards" who stubbornly resisted were all killed, none spared.
The vermilion fortress walls were repainted with even thicker blood.
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Omboru
Like a sleeping giant, it lay across the heartland between the two main islands, Walano and Jhala.
Euron Greyjoy chose it as a target with clear and ruthless intent—he wanted to precisely sever this main artery connecting the north and south of the Summer Isles, completely paralyzing communication between the three islands and forcing them to fight in isolation.
The fleet led by the Zhiyuan split in two in the predawn darkness, like the quietly parting tongue of a viper.
One route was personally commanded by Euron, circling to the north side of Omboru, cutting into the "Smiling Sea," named for the complex currents and perilous navigation but often echoing with the laughter of passing merchant ships.
The other route was led by the experienced captain Harren Pyke, detouring to the southern tip of the island, sailing into the "Indigo Straits," named for its deep, indigo-dye-like waters.
The moment the first golden-red rays of sunrise pierced the horizon and dispersed the morning mist—
On the long coastline of Omboru, two pre-selected beachheads in the north and south were hit hard by torrents of steel almost simultaneously!
In the Smiling Sea to the north, gray longships, under the cover of the last traces of night and morning light, rushed fiercely onto the beach. Prows ground heavily against sand and stone, making harsh sounds. Heavy-armored Ironborn warriors roared and leaped into knee-deep water, like a tide of death from the north, instantly drowning the tranquil coast.
Almost without delay!
In the Indigo Straits to the south, an equal number of longships appeared like ghosts. Sharp prows cleaved the mirror-calm indigo sea surface. More Ironborn warriors, like a school of bloodthirsty sharks, trod the waves, wielding battle-axes, and charged toward another undefended beachhead.
Two war banners, at two ends of the same island, were brazenly raised simultaneously against the rising sun!
At this moment, the entire island of Omboru was bitten dead by the steel jaws of the Iron Islands from both north and south. The fire of conquest was simultaneously ignited on this central island.
Behind the beachhead, Tony Duke, the Prince of Omboru, was currently plunged into unprecedented panic.
The forces he could urgently assemble numbered only a few thousand, most of whom were temporarily conscripted farmers and fishermen holding pitchforks and crude fish spears. Only a few hundred guards wearing leather armor counted as regular forces. He had originally harbored hope, thinking that relying on familiarity with the terrain and numerical superiority (he foolishly overestimated his side), he could at least use the terrain to delay and wait for the slim chance of reinforcements from other islands.
When the Iron Islands longships rushed the beach like black giant beasts, when those warriors in iron armor with eyes like polar ice fields trod through knee-deep water, silently and orderly forming attack formations, Tony Duke truly felt what despair was.
The killing intent rushing toward his face almost solidified the air.
"Loose arrows! Loose arrows quickly!" he roared hoarsely, his voice distorted by fear.
Scattered arrows flew from the defenders' sparse ranks, mostly hitting heavily shielded Ironborn weakly or falling into the water without making a ripple.
Answering them were the tsunami-like war cries of the Ironborn warriors, and a wave of denser, lethal throwing axes soaring into the air!
"For Greyjoy!"
Throwing axes fell with the wretched sound of breaking wind, instantly pinning the front row of defenders to the beach. Screams had just begun when the Ironborn vanguard crashed into the defenders' chaotic ranks like a steel torrent.
The battle instantly turned into a one-sided slaughter.
Ironborn warriors in groups of three, coordinating axes and shields perfectly, acted like efficient killing machines. They chopped through pitchforks, severed fish spears, and tore through thin leather armor and flesh. Resistance was pitifully weak. The sandy beach was quickly stained red, severed limbs and corpses mixing together, a gruesome sight.
A crush as easy as chopping melons and vegetables.
Tony Duke watched helplessly as his "army" disintegrated in a few breaths. Collapsing soldiers cried and fled backward, only to be cut down from behind by pursuing Ironborn like hunting rabbits. Extreme fear seized him instantly.
"Surrender! We surrender!" Tony threw away the sword in his hand, which had far more decorative than practical value. He raised his hands high, screaming with all his strength, no longer holding onto his previous hopes.
An Ironborn captain saw his action, slowed the offensive slightly, and looked back toward Euron, who was slowly walking over.
Euron Greyjoy stepped through pools of blood to stand before Tony Duke, who had collapsed on the ground. He scanned the beachhead where the battle had largely ended, finally resting on the prince's face twisted by extreme terror.
"Surrender?" Euron's voice was terrifyingly calm, containing no joy of victory, only a coldness of adjudicating fate. "I gave you a chance. A day's time was enough for a smart man to make the correct choice."
He shook his head slightly.
"Now, it's too late."
Euron couldn't be bothered to act personally, merely giving a slight signal to the guard beside him.
A burly Ironborn warrior strode forward. Amidst Tony Duke's desperate wails and struggles, he grabbed his hair and swung a sharp battle-axe cleanly—a head still wearing an expression of horror was severed.
The Ironborn warrior skillfully stuck the head on the tip of a bloodstained spear and raised it high.
The twisted head became the bloodiest and most direct declaration of the new order on Omboru.
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