Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 87 Occupying Starfish Town

The central square of Starfish Town was now shrouded in a suffocating atmosphere of grimness. What might have once been a place for markets or celebrations had now become a stage for displaying power and conquest.

Earl Adrian Redwin and his young son, Parker Redwin, were tightly bound to rough wooden stakes temporarily erected in the center of the square, like livestock to be sold.

Their magnificent armor had long been stripped away, leaving only filthy and tattered linings. Their bodies bore the marks and bruises of battle, their hair disheveled, their expressions a mixture of dejection and undisguised humiliation. Count Adrian still struggled to hold his head high, trying to maintain his last shred of dignity, while young Parker was deathly pale, his eyes filled with fear and resentment.

The very existence of this father-son lord silently proclaimed the complete defeat of the Redwyn family.

All around, the square was packed with Ironborn warriors, wielding sharp blades and with fierce eyes. Further out, the civilians of Starfish Town, driven from their homes by the Ironborn, had gathered there. Their faces were etched with terror, bewilderment, and deep worry. The men clenched their fists, then clenched them weakly; the women clutched their children tightly, sobbing softly, unsure of what fate awaited them and their town.

Euron Greyjoy stood on a slightly higher step, his black robes fluttering slightly in the salty sea breeze. He calmly swept his gaze across the entire area, taking in everyone's reactions. His voice carried clearly throughout the silent square:

"All soldiers, knights, and officers of House Redwin!" The voice, cold as scraping metal, echoed, "Look at your lord! Look at your fate! Starfish Harbor has fallen, the fleet has crumbled, resistance is futile!"

He paused, letting this despairing reality seep into the hearts of every defeated soldier, while simultaneously activating his Conqueror's Haki, instantly unleashing an invisible aura of superiority that swept across the entire arena.

"Now, I, Euron Greyjoy, in the name of House Greyjoy and King Coron of the Iron Islands, give you one last chance to choose: Lay down all your weapons! Take off your armor! Kneel and surrender!"

The order was clear and ruthless. The remaining soldiers, scattered throughout the town, who had been hesitant and hiding in the shadows, finally lost their last shred of will to fight upon witnessing the gruesome capture of their lord and son, and the menacing, bloodthirsty Iron Citizens surrounding the square. With a series of clanging metal sounds, swords, spears, and crossbows were reluctantly thrown to the ground, helmets and breastplates were removed and discarded at their feet. The soldiers, their faces ashen, slowly knelt, bowing their once proud heads. A reluctant surrender was still a surrender.

After the last weapon was discarded, Euron's gaze turned to the trembling civilians. His tone softened slightly, but the coldness and authority remained undiminished:

"Townspeople, lift your heads!"

People looked at him with fear and hesitation.

"See clearly the cause of this war!" Euron's voice rose, carrying a deliberately exaggerated air of "justice," as he pointed at the bound Earl Adrian. "This bloodshed and destruction did not stem from the greed of the Iron Islands, but from the piracy of your lord! He, Adrian Redwyn, disregarded law and dignity, openly plundering three legitimate merchant ships of my Iron Islands at sea! Afterwards, he arrogantly and forcefully rejected our reasonable explanations and demands for compensation!"

He positioned himself as a victim and a seeker of justice, despite his extremely cruel methods.

"The warriors of the Iron Islands are here today to wash away this shame! To uphold our inviolable dignity and honor! We attack the Redwyn family's forces, those who have taken up arms against us!"

Then, he changed the subject, attempting to appease the civilians. This was both a practical necessity and a clever governing strategy:

"But all of this has nothing to do with you." His gaze swept over the pale-faced fishermen, craftsmen, and peasant women. "You are merely people struggling to survive on this land; war was not your choice. I, Euron Greyjoy, in the name of Greyjoy, in the blood of the Grey King, hereby assure you: as long as you do not take up arms against us, the warriors of the Iron Islands will never harm a single civilian of Greentree. Your lives, your property, as long as they do not belong to House Redwyn, will be respected and protected."

These words were like a lifeline, rekindling a faint glimmer of hope in the eyes of the desperate civilians. They might not fully believe it, but under the overwhelming force and terrifying suppression, this "guarantee" at least offered a sliver of hope for survival. The sobs in the square seemed to subside somewhat, but the heavy fear and uncertainty still permeated the air.

Euron successfully gained initial control of the situation through displays of force, psychological pressure, and limited promises, temporarily disguising a bloody conquest as a "just punishment" and "forgiveness" for the civilians. However, the cold light flashing deep within his heterochromatic eyes reminded everyone that the rule of the Iron Islands had never been about genuine benevolence.

Euron Greyjoy's self-glow swept across the square, where the faces of the hungry and the eyes of the terrified civilians seemed to emanate a tangible fog that permeated the air. He knew all too well that absolute terror could bring obedience, but a touch of just the right amount of "mercy" could more effectively erode the will to resist, giving a seemingly justifiable veneer to a brutal conquest.

He turned slightly to the side, raised his arm, and pointed to one side of the square. There, the Ironborn warriors had already piled up sacks of wheat and beans, along with easily distributed dried fruit, salted fish, and locally grown fruits, forming a small mountain, from the grain they had seized from the Redwin family warehouses. These foods were especially precious in the post-war period when supplies might be scarce.

"Residents of Starfish Town," his voice rang out again through the messenger, less grim than before, and more pragmatic, "I know the war has disrupted your lives, and many of your stoves may already be cold."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to resonate.

"Look over there," he pointed to the pile of food, "there is food there. Those of you who are worried about running out of food, come and collect your share of daily necessities according to the actual number of people in your household. The rule of the Iron Islands begins with justice."

The order stirred a subtle commotion in the previously deathly silent square. Many civilians looked up in disbelief at the pile of food, then at Euron on the platform, their eyes filled with a mixture of doubt, longing, and fear. Some of the bolder ones, or those whose families were truly starving, began to cautiously approach the food pile under the watchful eyes of others, receiving a portion of life-saving rations under the indifferent supervision of the Ironborn warriors.

This action, like a pebble thrown into an icy lake, may not have immediately dispelled the fear, but it did shake the pure hostility in many people's hearts.

As the crowd waiting to receive food gradually dispersed, Euron continued speaking, his tone returning to its previous coldness and unquestionable tone:

"Now, everyone, return to your homes one by one. Lock your doors and windows."

His words were clear and slow, ensuring that every word was imprinted in everyone's mind.

"For the next few days, you are not to leave your homes without orders! Staying indoors is your greatest safety. I swear on the honor of Greyjoy that as long as you behave yourselves, the soldiers of the Iron Islands will never enter your homes or disturb your peace without cause."

This sounded like a protection, a promise of safety. Many people did breathe a sigh of relief upon hearing this, at least their families' safety was temporarily assured.

However, Euron's tone abruptly changed, as if the warm sun had been instantly replaced by a cold iron curtain, and the temperature in the air, which had just eased slightly, suddenly plummeted to freezing point:

"But one!"

His eyes flashed with a sharp, dagger-like light as he swept across the room; every word he spoke was like an ice-cold dagger, piercing the hearts of every listener.

"If we see anyone daring to go out and wander around without permission—"

"If we discover that anyone is attempting to communicate with the outside world without authorization—"

"If we find out that anyone is secretly harboring or hiding soldiers who still have rebellious intentions, he paused after each sentence, letting the terrible consequences ferment in the silence."

"Then," he finally declared coldly, "don't blame the swords of the Iron Islands for not knowing what mercy is! What awaits you is only death and destruction! Don't say you weren't warned!"

Carrots and sticks, a combination of kindness and severity. The promise of food and safety is a fleeting sweetness, while harsh curfews and relentless threats of death are the ironclad rules that ensure rule.

These words completely stunned the civilians. The faint gratitude they had just felt for receiving food was instantly overwhelmed by a deeper fear of unknown violence. They lowered their heads deeply, no longer daring to look at the conqueror in black robes. Like a flock of frightened sheep, under the watchful eyes of the Ironborn warriors, they silently and quickly dispersed, heading towards their homes, tightly closing their doors, locking themselves inside, and locking away their fear and uncertainty.

The streets of Starfish Town quickly became deserted, save for the heavy footsteps of the Ironclad warriors on patrol and the golden sea monster flag fluttering in the wind, announcing that the town had changed hands. A suffocating, oppressive calm enveloped the newly fallen town.