Fire consumed the straw roofs, crackling and popping.
Thick smoke choked the air, making eyes water.
An Ironborn dragged a screaming woman like a sheep.
Her child followed, crying.
Another man kicked the child away and cut him down with a sword.
Borlon leaned against a smoke-blackened tree, watching the Ironborn create this hellish scene.
Rodrik Greyjoy's longship fleet moved down the Blue Fork like a pack of hungry wolves bursting into an unguarded sheep pen.
They burned and killed.
They raided and plundered.
They enjoyed themselves.
They cut off the heads of men and women and hung them along the ship rails. The holds were filled with loot.
Villages along the route became ash.
The noble lords who should have protected their people had locked their castle gates so tight no one could get in or out.
An Ironborn with a face full of bulging muscles grinned as he drank from a stolen silver cup.
He chuckled, showing rows of yellow teeth, and said to Borlon beside him, "This is easy."
"These greenlanders are all soft."
Borlon sneered in his mind but did not answer.
Soft?
These nobles were a bunch of useless fools who only knew how to collect taxes and mount women.
They were worse than dogs.
At least dogs would come out and bark.
He had planned to slip away once the Ironborn clashed with the Riverlands army.
But damn it.
There had been no proper resistance along the entire route.
These nobles would watch their people slaughtered instead of sending a single soldier.
Borlon cursed in his mind.
"Damn it. They won't even give me a chance to run."
He snatched the cup from an Ironborn's hand and took a hard drink to suppress his anger.
After the raid, Rodrik Greyjoy stood in the center of the ruined village, kicking a burnt corpse with his foot.
He looked like he still wanted more.
"This can't keep going," Borlon said, wiping his mouth as he stepped forward.
"Captain, these little raids aren't enough."
Rodrik turned.
Seeing Borlon, he lifted an eyebrow.
"What good idea do you have?"
A flicker of madness showed in Borlon's eyes.
He bit his teeth.
"We need to make this bigger."
"Go deep inland. Make the whole Riverlands tremble."
Rodrik frowned and scratched his messy beard.
"We only have a few hundred men. If we go deep inland and reveal our true strength, and those greenlander armies surround us, we won't be able to get home."
He was arrogant, but not stupid.
Current success was clearly because the Riverlanders didn't know their true numbers.
If they learned they only had six hundred men, things would be different.
Borlon pointed at the captives bound together with ropes, shivering, waiting to be killed.
"Who said we only have a few hundred?"
A cold, almost cruel smile crept across his face.
Blame your masters for having no courage to resist.
They gave me no chance to escape.
"Mix these Riverlanders into our ranks. Our men stay on the outside, holding them."
"From far away, it looks like a black mass. Who can tell refugees from soldiers?"
"Find a few loud voices. Let them shout in the crowd. Say Seagard has been taken, that the Riverlands army has been defeated. Guarantee those nobles in the small castles will shit their pants."
Rodrik's eyes lit up at once.
He stared at Borlon, seeing him again as the man he had picked up from Lonely Light who had given him so many surprises.
He slammed Borlon's shoulder hard, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Drowned God above! You're a genius!"
"You were born to be an Ironborn! Follow me from now on. Don't go back to Lonely Light. There's always a place for you on my Sea Bitch!"
Rodrik laughed loudly and turned to the Ironborn, barking orders.
"Did you hear what Hadwin said? Move! Now!"
The high walls of Letryce Castle looked lonely in the sunset.
Below, thousands of "troops" crept forward in a black mass.
Borlon sat on his horse, watching coldly the farce he had personally directed.
When those nobles realized most of these "Ironborn" wore ragged clothes, limped, and held not spears or sharp swords but pitchforks and wooden sticks, and that many were even women, surely they would fight back bravely.
Lemon Letryce's wife, an old woman, stood on the wall.
Her face was pale.
Her fingers gripping the castle wall were white from the pressure.
When the column drew close, an older knight noticed something strange and urged her anxiously beside her.
"Lady, that is not an army."
"Look, they don't even have armor. They're just a crowd of refugees being driven."
"If we hold out and wait for aid, waiting for Lord Lemon to return from Seagard with an army..."
Lady Letryce screamed, her voice distorted by fear.
"Shut up!"
"I see it! I see thousands of them! It's the Ironborn army! They're going to slaughter the city!"
Ignoring the knight's attempt to stop her, she turned and rushed down the wall.
"Quick! Open the rear gate! We're going to Harrenhal! Fast!"
Not long after, the rear gate of Letryce Castle opened quietly.
A small group fled in panic, disappearing into the twilight.
The chaos inside the castle quickly spread outside.
The Ironborn cheered in victory.
They hadn't even shot a single arrow.
This strong castle had opened its gates for them.
Such an easy victory confirmed that the weak greenlanders were no match for the Ironborn.
"This stupid woman..."
Borlon watched the victory that came so easily.
He felt no joy, only a nameless fire.
"These damn nobles!"
"Idiots! Stupid fools!"
Damn it.
They ran without even fighting.
His escape plan was ruined again.
In the great hall of Letryce Castle, the Ironborn celebrated wildly.
They wiped their greasy hands on expensive bed sheets and drank their珍藏 wines like water.
One Ironborn climbed onto a table and urinated on a portrait of Lady Letryce's ancestors, triggering a roar of laughter.
The screams of servant girls and the women they had brought mixed with the leering laughter of men.
The whole castle had become a huge, filthy brothel.
Rodrik Greyjoy grabbed Borlon and poured drink into him cup after cup.
"Drink! My smartest Ironborn!"
He shouted constantly, drunk on wine, "For you! The smartest man on my ship! For our great plan!"
Borlon forced a smile on his face.
Inside, he cursed endlessly.
"I'm really going to be an Ironborn in this damn place for my whole life."
He looked at Rodrik's face, twisted by wild joy, and at the beast-like Ironborn around them.
His face twitched.
He barely held back the urge to punch him.
Night deepened.
The celebration continued.
Rodrik was drunk as a log.
He hugged Borlon's neck and bragged, saliva flying.
"The next one... is Harrenhal. I will take that black castle for my father. I will make the whole Riverlands bow at my feet. I will become the greatest conqueror of the Ironborn!"
Borlon gave a perfunctory smile.
His heart was cold.
His chance to escape was even smaller now.
He had become Rodrik's prized possession, watched constantly.
There was no way to run.
He knew that the fall of Letryce Castle was like a giant stone thrown into a calm lake.
The news would spread through the Riverlands quickly.
The lords would panic even more, hiding in their castles like frightened rabbits, and be even less willing to come out and resist.
What bad luck.
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