Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 127 Execution
That evening, lights flickered on sporadically in the artisans' residential area.

The hut in Torren was packed with people, and the air was stifling. His back wound had been given basic treatment, but the pain still made him pale.

A few days ago, someone came to his house and not only promised to forgive his debts, but also gave him ten golden dragons.

He was a gambling addict who had never seen so much money in his life. He immediately threw it into the casino and, out of desperation, borrowed a large sum of money from the casino.

Unexpectedly, the man came again yesterday, this time with an IOU. Only then did he realize he had fallen into a trap from which there was no way out.

"Have you heard? Marko is going to expel all the free people!" Toren gritted his teeth. "He wants to replace us with slaves! I heard him discussing it with Zeke!"

"Really?" Jonathan looked horrified. "I have a family to support. What will I do without a job?"

“Of course it’s true! Beating me today is just the beginning,” Toren continued to incite. “They’ll find an excuse to punish us first, then drive us all away, and our families will starve to death!”

Fear spread, and someone asked, "What should we do?"

"Kill Marco and burn down the mine! After that, someone will naturally take over this place. At that time, you will not only be able to forgive the Iron Treasury's debts, but also become managers!"

That night, a loud bang came from the storage area, followed by thick smoke rising into the air. Someone banged on a copper basin to sound the alarm, and the slave area began to stir.

Torun, accompanied by dozens of apprentices, set fires everywhere with torches and shouted loudly.

"Kill Mandak! Free the Iron Bank!"

The riots spread rapidly, with some taking advantage of the chaos to loot, vandalize, and burn, and others being coerced into joining in.

The rebels seized the granaries and armories, claiming they would restore order. Most of the artisans and their families were besieged in the dormitory area, living in terror.

The flags of Lahalo were torn down and replaced with tattered cloths with the word "Freedom" written on them, and the mining area was in chaos.

On a distant hillside, Marco Mandak rode his warhorse, his face expressionless as he watched the smoking mine.

Behind him stood five hundred heavily armored infantrymen of the Shield of Pentos, their spears and short swords gleaming coldly.

Jonathan escaped, his body charred black, hands on his knees, panting, and asked:

"Lord Ma Ke, why aren't you going downstairs yet? It's complete chaos inside!"

Marco snorted coldly and said in a deep voice, "Only when all the guys hiding in the shadows are exposed will we know who the enemy is!" He paused and asked, "What's the situation inside?"

"There are more than 800 rebels. Torun claims to have the support of the Iron Treasury and wants to take over the entire mining area."

"How are the casualties?"

“Several overseers were killed, along with many women… They were cruel; they didn’t even spare those who surrendered.”

"Where's the stuff?"

“Here, here…” Jonathan rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, the very one that Toren had.

“Good,” Marco’s lips curled into a smile as he put away the parchment. “You have done a good job in infiltrating them to monitor them, and I will reward you handsomely.”

"Thank you, sir!" Jonathan knelt down excitedly.

"That's about enough." Marco surveyed the situation in the mining area and shouted, "Suppress them all! Leave no survivors!"

Well-trained heavy infantrymen stormed into the mining area like an iron torrent, unleashing a one-sided massacre.

Although the rebels were numerous, their organization was chaotic and their weapons were crude, so they were quickly routed.

Torun hid in the granary, attempting to escape. A craftsman who had been forced to join pointed out his hiding place, and soldiers broke down the door and dragged him out.

The night rain pattered down, washing away the bloodstains on the ground.

At daybreak, Ma Ke rode his horse to inspect the battlefield. Corpses lay scattered everywhere, and blood mixed with rainwater flowed into the ditches.

Ultimately, more than 400 rebels were captured, including more than 300 prisoners of war in Westeros, as well as more than 30 ringleaders, including Toren.

Besides him, there were six other rebels who directly received support from the Iron Treasury, and they were all exposed this time. As dawn broke, a chilling atmosphere filled the Velvet Iron Mine, where more than four hundred prisoners, bound hand and foot, knelt in the square.

There weren't enough gallows, so they had to behead people. Almost every heavy infantryman carried a sword and temporarily acted as an executioner.

The square was packed with people, and the families of the traitors who had been suppressed were also forced to attend. Sobbing could be heard from the crowd, but there were more cheers and angry shouts.

The vast majority of onlookers were honest people, some of whom had even lost loved ones in the riots.

Those rebels who were friends one day turned their fangs into wolves the next, even raping their women. They hated these traitors to the core, wishing they could be pierced by a thousand arrows.

Mounted on his warhorse, Mako proclaimed in a loud voice: "Today, we will execute the criminals of riots and murders."

The Iron Treasury uses you, making you betray your master and kill each other!

Toren was held down by two soldiers, the cold blades of their swords pressed against his neck, and yellow liquid involuntarily seeped from his trousers.

Ma Ke raised his whip and lashed it downwards, his voice echoing throughout the mining area, "Riot, murder, rape—unforgivable crimes! Kill!"

The beheadings began, and cries echoed through the sky. As the Shield of Pentos swung its blade, heads rolled to the ground one after another, drawing cheers from the crowd.

After the execution, with warhorses trampling over the blood, Ma Ke ordered that all the rebels' corpses be hung on the wall as a warning to others!

...

As dusk falls and Braavos lights up, the passing boats cast distorted shadows on the canal.

The Iron Vault is located in the city center, separated from the Isle of Gods by a body of water. It is a white marble building with a hundred-meter-wide entrance staircase. Under the triangular gable, people gather in twos and threes to exchange currencies from all over the world.

Twenty-three key keepers, dressed in simple gray-brown robes, entered the Iron Vault from different directions.

Their faces were hidden under their hoods, but the guards recognized them and bowed respectfully.

The key keepers are descendants of the twenty-three founders of the Iron Vault, consisting of sixteen men and seven women. Each key keeper possesses a key to open the vault.

In the circular council chamber on the top floor, a huge iron round table occupies the central position.

The center of the table is engraved with a three-dimensional Iron Treasury emblem, and the outer ring is engraved with twenty-three sets of numbers, each number corresponding to the shareholding ratio of a key keeper.

Besaro Ryan, the man behind the key, sits in the center, with the number 32 displayed in front of him.

"Close the door," he commanded, looking around.

Twenty-three keys turned simultaneously, and the iron gate of the council chamber slowly closed.

Besaro slammed his iron cup on the table, the sound crisp and clear. "Today is a special meeting. Let Lord Frega explain what happened."

Thormo Frega stood up, removed his hood, and bowed to the crowd. The number 16 was engraved on the table in front of him.

"Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that the operation has failed."

Lahalo suppressed the rebellion with bloodshed, executing over four hundred people. The secret letter also fell into his hands.

A murmur rippled through the council chamber. Alberto, the key-keeper number six, was the first to speak out.

"Heh, the Iron Vault has been passed down for eight hundred years. It's inevitable that the descendants of the key keepers will be of mixed quality, and failure is unavoidable. Your Frega family might as well give up some shares to settle this matter."

Rebecca, the key keeper number seventeen, chimed in, "Moreover, this operation has exposed our usual methods. Lahalo is now on guard, and it won't be so easy for them to strike at Pentos. I agree with Lord Alberto's suggestion that Frega relinquish his shares."

Bellamy, the third key keeper, was an elderly man with white hair. He shook his head: "If Lahalo makes the evidence public, the Iron Treasury's reputation among the city-states will be damaged."

Thormo scoffed. "No one will believe a barbarian's words against a bank that has existed for eight hundred years. Besides,"

He turned to Besaro at the head of the table, "Lord Ryan, please give me some time to implement the next step of the plan."

(End of this chapter)