At this moment, Aemon dropped to his knees with a thud, kowtowing frantically.
"No, no, no! I'm loyal to the Queen!"
"I'm loyal to the Prince!"
"Ser Symond and the others deserved to die! They deserved it!"
Seeing the man submit, Hugh finally let out a breath of relief. Without him, the reckless plan he was about to carry out would have been far harder to accomplish.
He had no intention of following the original plan and opening the gates for the Volantene army.
He wanted to do it himself.
He knew perfectly well that the moment the Volantenes entered the city, he would become nothing. Even the Myr they had promised him would never truly be his.
Only if he himself controlled Tyrosh...
Controlled Saera...
Controlled Bronze Fury...
...would he become a force no one could afford to underestimate.
Hugh nodded in satisfaction and reached down to help him up.
"Lord Aemon truly understands the greater good."
Aemon staggered to his feet, his legs still trembling. His trousers were soaked wet, but he no longer cared.
Hugh looked toward the surviving bastards.
There were roughly thirty of them left. Some were his loyal followers. Others had only just been forced by him to take part in the slaughter.
Those who had been coerced into killing still had their companions' blood smeared across their bodies, terror and confusion written all over their faces.
Hugh's gaze swept across them before he spoke in a low voice.
"You lot. Dispose of the bodies."
The bastards froze for a moment before beginning to drag away the corpses.
Hugh then turned back toward Aemon.
"Lord Aemon, I need you to do something for me."
"My lord! Just say the word! Say the word!" Aemon nodded frantically.
"Gather the five hundred elite Velaryon soldiers left behind in the city," Hugh said. "Have them assemble in the training yard. No armor."
"Tell them... tell them Prince Lucerys appreciates their hard work and wishes to reward them."
Aemon nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, yes, yes! I'll go right away."
"And one more thing," Hugh continued. "The newly recruited Tyroshi troops are to remain fully armed and await orders around the training yard."
"The moment I give the signal... those five hundred men..."
He drew a finger across his throat.
Aemon's face turned even paler, but he didn't dare utter a single word of protest. He only nodded desperately.
"Go."
Hugh waved him away, then exchanged looks with the six bastard followers at his side.
The six bastards immediately escorted Aemon out.
Hugh turned around and looked at the bastards still dragging away the corpses.
A few who had never joined the killing stood silently in the corner, their expressions conflicted.
They were not Hugh's men, but what had just happened had clearly shaken them as well.
"You lot. Come here," Hugh said.
The silent men slowly walked over.
Hugh looked at them and spoke calmly.
"When the killing started earlier, you didn't join in."
The expressions on their faces changed instantly.
"I know what you're thinking," Hugh said. "You think I'm a traitor. You think I betrayed my oaths. You think I deserve to die."
"Isn't that right?"
No one answered.
Hugh let out a cold laugh.
"Then do you know what would've happened to people like us if I hadn't acted first?"
He pointed at the corpses on the ground.
"These men were loyal to the Queen. Loyal to the Prince. But what could the Queen and the Prince actually give them?"
"When the war ends, you'll still be bastards. Still lowborn whelps looked down upon by everyone."
"Haven't you seen the way those Velaryons look at us?"
"That old bastard Symond spoke politely enough, but do you really think you didn't know what he truly thought of us?"
Hugh paused, then continued persuading them.
"We fight and bleed for the Queen. We risk our lives for the Prince. And in the end, what do we get?"
"Nothing."
"But if we seize it ourselves, then things are different!"
"Tyrosh, six thousand soldiers, and their dragons will all fall into our hands!"
"So long as we handle things properly, we can rise above everyone else!"
"We can make all those people who looked down on us kneel before us!"
He stared at the bastards, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Now I'll ask you one last time..."
"Are you with me, or do you want to die alongside them?"
The bastards exchanged glances, then slowly dropped to their knees.
"We are willing to die for you, my lord."
Hugh smiled in satisfaction.
Just then, a voice sounded out.
"Brother Hugh, what do we do next?"
Hugh turned his head and saw Ulf standing beside him with a fawning grin on his face.
The smile on Hugh's face faded slightly.
Brother?
Under Hugh's stare, Ulf shifted uneasily and cautiously repeated: "Brother Hugh?"
Hugh suddenly raised his hand and slapped him hard across the face.
Smack!
Ulf was stunned senseless. He clutched his cheek, completely at a loss.
"What did you call me?" Hugh asked.
Ulf stammered nervously.
"B-Brother...?"
Another slap landed across his face.
Smack!
"Say it again?"
Ulf looked like he was about to cry. Hugh had never acted like this before.
Hugh spoke with naked satisfaction in his voice.
"In the past, I didn't bother correcting you when you called me Brother."
"But now? What the fuck should you be calling me?"
At last, realization struck Ulf.
A flash of inspiration lit up his mind.
He dropped to his knees with a thud and shouted: "Your Grace! King of Tyrosh!"
The surrounding bastards froze for a moment before hurriedly kneeling as well, shouting in unison: "Your Grace!"
"King of Tyrosh!"
"King Hugh!"
Hugh threw back his head and burst into laughter. The sound echoed through the blood-soaked hall, eerie beyond words.
Even Aemon, who had not yet left, was frightened by the scene.
But he quickly came to his senses and also fell to his knees, shouting in a trembling voice: "Long live King Hugh!"
Hugh laughed even louder.
After Aemon left, Hugh ordered several chests filled with gold coins to be carried inside.
The lids were opened, and golden light flooded the entire banquet hall.
"These," Hugh said, pointing at the gold, "were sent by the Volantenes."
"Once we seize control of Tyrosh and join Volantis, every one of you can become a noble of the Black Walls and enjoy endless wealth and glory."
The bastards' eyes instantly lit up.
Hugh nodded in satisfaction before beginning to assign tasks.
"Ulf, take some men and kill Nettles."
Ulf froze.
"Nettles? That ugly girl?"
"That's right," Hugh replied. "Kill her, and Sheepstealer will become a riderless dragon."
"If you can mount him, he'll be yours."
Ulf's eyes instantly shone like lanterns.
"Really? Your Grace? You really mean it?"
Hugh patted him on the shoulder.
"Ulf, when have I ever lied to you?"
Ulf trembled with excitement.
He wanted a dragon. Dreamed of having one.
Now that the chance was right in front of him, how could he possibly let it slip away?
"Rest assured, Your Grace!"
He slammed his forehead against the ground in a heavy kowtow.
"I'll go at once!"
He hurriedly ran out with several men in tow.
Hugh watched his retreating figure, a cold sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.
Ulf was greedy, stupid, and brainless.
Keeping him around would become a disaster sooner or later.
But for now, he still had his uses.
Once everything was settled...
Hugh withdrew his gaze and said to the remaining men: "You lot, come with me into the castle."
"We're taking control of the Prince... and the two princesses."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---