Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 264: Battle of the Shield Islands
262. Battle of the Shield Islands

It is said that with just a glance from Aeron the Damphair, the ironborn will allow the sea to wash away their ignorance and vanity, and tremble as they accept the baptism of the Drowned God.

But this kind of majesty has no effect on the Serenity.

Aeron Greyjoy retched, the scorching sun searing his forehead and making his wet hair dry until it felt like brushwood.

He was tied to the bow, facing the sun with the mouthless girl beside him.

Aeron licked his dry lips with his tongue, and a stinging pain came over him like a predator's blade.

The Drowned God's priest looked around the deck at the motley crew of sailors and crewmen, the mutes and half-breeds going about their work in silence.

Black people as dark as pitch, short, hairy, ape-like creatures, half-faced people with scales on one half of their faces and no skin on the other half.
A group of monsters, Aeron's legs stretched and retracted helplessly.

The sunlight mercilessly swept across his cheeks and eyes, until his cheeks felt like they were pressed against burning charcoal and his eyes seemed about to melt.

A big door gradually appeared in front of him, Aeron's lips began to tremble, and the rusty iron chain shook violently.

"No, no, the dead do not die, the dead do not die! The dead do not die! The dead do not die!" He began to pray non-stop, and the prayers became louder and louder, until in the end it was impossible to hear what he was saying. All that could be heard was Aeron screaming.

"Admit it, brother," Euron finally came, his huge figure submerging himself, like a sea monster's tentacles spreading over himself, "Your faith comes from fear, fear of me."

Bullshit! Aeron wanted to yell at him, to accuse him of blasphemy, of imprisoning his relatives, and of his real purpose not to revive the Ironborn but to satisfy his own desires.
But when it came to his lips, it became, "Where am I?" Aeron gave in.

“Where are you?” Euron seemed amused by this. His blood-red silk cloak fluttered, but it was definitely not the wind that was blowing. Aeron could not feel the wind. “You are wherever your king wants you to be.”

But, Aeron thought to himself.

"But," Euron sipped his wine, his movements graceful and gentle, as if the bugs and rats around him did not affect his mood at all, "I am a merciful man," he threw the cup overboard and pointed ahead, "a beautiful ceremony is taking place ahead, a ceremony that satisfies everyone, the honor of the iron race, plunder, and conquest."

Aeron tried to straighten his body, but was blocked by Euron's shoes. The iron plates on his shirt collided with each other, making a familiar sound.

The rusty iron door chain rubbing against each other in his childhood appeared before his eyes again.

The whole body went limp in an instant.

"Our dear Victarion, my brave brother, the king's warrior who pursues honor, is fighting for his king." Euron's words were still in his ears, but Aeron smelled a strange smell, which did not seem like wine.

This is the Shield Islands, Aeron thought, but he didn't know which islands.

Euron left, and several mute sailors came over and took away his robe, shoes, socks, and even his loin cloth.

I still have the Drowned God, Aeron thought. "I curse you," he told the sailors.

The chain was pulled away fiercely, and Aeron was forced to lie down on the deck, grabbing the iron statue of the mouthless girl on the bow with both hands and looking forward.

Dozens of longships, fallen towns, tiny castles, and plundered ports.

Then there was a fainting spell, and the sailors knocked him out and dragged him to the bottom of the cabin.

Victarion cut off the hand of the Knight of Oakenshield, and blood spurted out. He ignored the knight's heart-wrenching wails and pleas for mercy, and smashed the knight's face with his axe, and the knight immediately fell silent.

But there was still much noise around him, and Victarion raised his head and looked toward the town.

The ships in the harbor sank or were occupied by the Ironborn, and the heads and body parts of the sailors on the ships were scattered on the sea like cheap pieces of paper.

He glanced indifferently at the resisting soldiers. Most of them were unarmored and were probably fishermen who were just making up the numbers.

"I surrender~" The Ironborn did not sympathize with the plea for mercy. The pillager's flying axe shattered the dream and stabbed the beggar's neck. The Ironborn frantically searched for treasures and women, and used flying axes and long swords to deal with the elderly and children who were in the way. The civilians fled in all directions like a group of rats, and the noise and miserable wailing spread throughout the town like the plague.

Victarion looked back and forth as his own sailors tore women by their hair and dragged them into longboats and raped them, as old fishermen and fisherwomen rowing boats loaded with baskets of fish were drowned, their red bodies sinking to the bottom and their soaked, wrinkled skins floating on the surface.

Killing, raping, looting, the Ironborn were scattered all over the town, and the laughter of victory was everywhere.

Victarion paid no attention to this and went straight into the castle.

"Go to hell!" A group of people surrounded him, and the leader was holding a knight's sword.

The giant axe came down on the leader’s face, and his courageous voice faded away.

Victarion looked at them. "Where is Humfrey?" he called the Lord of Oakenshield.

The Count sat on a chair behind the crowd, the dagger in his hand pointed at his neck.

His eyes were full of fear. He looked at Victarion in a trance, his pupils constricted. "Hightower, Highgarden, and Lord Tywin will never let you go!"

Victarion took off his sea monster helmet and threw it on the long table in the middle. He raised his great axe and stood directly in front of the earl. He raised his chin and said, "Cut your own throat."

"You" The Count's hand holding the dagger softened a little, but it fell off in a moment. The dagger fell to the ground and the whole person fell to the ground.

Victarion nodded, turned, retrieved his helm, and walked out of the chamber.

Lord Humphry Hewitt was gagged and tied to a stool.

His wife and daughters walked naked through the banquet. Victarion could not hear any sobbing, for the youngest daughter, who had started the crying, had been dragged off to one of the ironborn longships. When the wail of the youngest daughter died, the weeping of the wife and daughters ceased too.

Euron tasted the delicacies of the island, as if he was eroding his own honor. Victarion stared at his brother. The ironborn around him seemed to know what was going on and did not provoke him, but just asked for wine among themselves.

Euron didn't seem to notice himself. He actually liked the Earl's illegitimate daughter very much and held his face and kissed her.

"It is one thing to kill an enemy," Victarion said. "It is another to insult him."

The Ironborn around were silent, looking uneasily at Euron above the banquet, while the latter looked at Earl Hewitt beside him nonchalantly.

A joking voice came from Euron, "Come and kill him."

Victarion stood up, holding the great axe in his hand, and walked closer to the earl, that is, closer to Euron, his eyes never stopping watching Euron.

There was an uneasy commotion behind Victarion. They thought I was going to chop off Euron's head? They were wrong.

Victarion smirked and raised his greataxe.

The earl's face festered madly, and a hoarse scream came out of the earl's mouth, and Victarion saw that there was no tongue inside.

The Count lowered his head in silence, and the wailing and crying of his wife and daughter began again, louder than when he came to serve them naked.

The illegitimate daughter lying in Euron's arms looked as if her soul had been sucked away by a sea monster. Her body was frozen and her eyes were empty.

"Poison is the tool of the vile." Victarion stared at Euron, slowly put down his great axe, and returned to his seat in silence.

He stared at the food on the plate. Euron was not the will of the Drowned God, but just the recommendation of a bunch of idiots.

Where is Aeron? Victarion pursed his lips and sighed heavily.

(End of this chapter)