There were no more spontaneous confrontations or petty conflicts after that point, mainly because the men were entirely busy hurling giant rocks at the towering main watchtower of Castle Pyke.

The ancient castle was essentially a series of stone towers built upon rock stacks jutting from the ocean, all connected by swaying rope bridges.

The mere fact that the crumbling structures were still standing against the crashing waves made Ra speculate.

He thought the Ironborn might have possessed some magic in their ancestry, or perhaps their fabled Drowned God was genuinely real and had aided them at some point in history.

Honestly, Ned Stark being his trusted friend and the prospect of encountering that very magic or god were the sole reasons he had joined this bloody war in the first place, even though he possessed absolutely no interest in trivial Westerosi conflicts.

The sturdy ship they had initially arrived in was positioned in the back of the fleet now, simply because it lacked a trebuchet on its deck.

Therefore, King Robert Baratheon had a massive wooden table set up right on the deck of the ship, where he loudly laughed, drank, and ate roasted meat.

Ned sat quietly at his side, ever the silent and solemn Lord of Winterfell. Jorah Mormont and Alysane were stationed in one of the vanguard ships up front, actively helping the crew with the heavy loading and continuous firing of the trebuchet.

It was a brutally slow and arduous process while balancing on a ship rocking in the restless sea. For some inexplicable reason, Robert had specifically ordered the vanguard captains to take their time and go painfully slow with the siege attack.

“Your Grace, I still fail to understand why you have ordered the men to slow down the attacks,” Jaime Lannister asked at last, clearly growing bored with all the endless waiting and lack of swordplay.

“You have no imagination, Kingslayer,” Robert scoffed, giving his head a dismissive shake as he took another large gulp of his wine.

“Evidently so, Your Grace. Would you be so kind as to paint me a vivid picture with yours?” Jaime persisted, tilting his head in genuine curiosity as he asked the question.

“Gods above. Just think about what wretched state those men must be in over there. That rebellious traitor hiding in the castle must be spending every waking moment thinking any of his own men might kill him at any given point just to stop this shit,” Robert explained.

He ended his crass words with a booming, thunderous laugh as he looked over at the stoic Ned.

“I pray to the gods they can clearly see this feast from their ruined towers while they sit there and starve,” the king added maliciously, gesturing grandly to the lavish royal spread piled high in front of them.

Jaime offered a curt nod at Robert’s vindictive answer. The knight put on his gilded helmet to completely hide his true expression from the boisterous king.

His gaze then naturally turned toward the incredibly silent Ra, who was standing still at the very edge of the ship.

Jaime gave Robert one last lingering glance from behind his visor before moving slowly over to the towering Custodian.

Jaime stood right beside the colossal man clad in full golden armor, keeping his own gaze firmly fixed on the dark ocean rolling in front of them.

“Did you hear all of that?” Jaime asked in a carefully lowered voice, receiving an affirmative hum from the Custodian in immediate response.

The Kingslayer turned his head slightly to the side, tilting it up to properly look at the gleaming golden, horned helmet towering above him.

It was then he noticed Ra casually dropping a small black bead straight down into the crashing ocean waves.

Ra silently walked over to the back of the ship, casually twirling several more of the strange beads in his large, armored hand while Jaime followed closely behind him.

“And?” Jaime asked, dragging out the word to prompt a real answer.

“I must say the king at least possesses a cruel imagination. It is not like these miserable Ironborn do not deserve that exact fate,” Ra answered with a light, rumbling chuckle.

The response earned a very slight, exhausted sigh from Jaime standing right behind him.

The golden giant dropped another black bead into the churning ocean when he finally reached the back of the ship, before moving further to the side and continuing his strange ritual.

“What exactly are those?” Jaime asked, gesturing toward the small items with a tilt of his helmet.

“Just a little something for luck,” Ra answered with a casual shrug. He turned to fully face Jaime only after he had thrown the very last bead into the salty ocean waters below.

“I will be joining Alysane in the vanguard ship now. Do not worry yourself over these trivial things,” Ra said gently.

He patted Jaime’s armored shoulder lightly before stepping down into a smaller rowboat and smoothly rowing away towards the forward ship where Alysane and Jorah were stationed.

Jaime desperately wanted to join Ra, however his sworn Kingsguard duties chained him to the king’s side.

So he just watched the massive Custodian row away for a few quiet moments before turning back and rejoining Robert and Ned at the feast table.

It took a full hour of continuous, deafening rock hurling before a massive section of the southern watchtower wall finally started to crack and crumble.

Seeing the opening, some of the eager soldiers made landfall. They moved swiftly toward that weakened section of the stone wall, keeping heavy wooden shields raised firmly over their heads to protect themselves from the Ironborn archers firing down at them from the upper castle parapets.

Ra, Alysane, and Jorah Mormont were right among the vanguard troops, physically supporting the heavy overhead shield wall as if they were perfectly safe inside a giant turtle shell.

Half an hour after that slow advance, the battered section of the wall directly in front of them finally gave way and crumbled completely, forming a gap large enough for the royal forces to charge through and enter.

Not a single moment later, a great, booming roar was heard over the din of battle. Thoros of Myr madly ran straight toward the breached tower with his iconic sword blazing brightly with green wildfire in his hand.

Jorah Mormont charged in a very close second behind the mad priest. Ra calmly placed a heavy, reassuring hand on Alysane’s tense shoulder, making the young girl look up at his visor.

“How do you feel, child?” he asked her in a surprisingly gentle tone amidst the chaos.

“Scared….. angry,” she answered with absolute honesty. Her burning anger was deeply rooted in the tragic, bloody history between her own people and the reaving Ironborn.

“Good.” Ra said simply. He gave the girl a supportive nudge forward, and she fiercely charged into the breach with her towering Custodian keeping pace close beside her.

Just as Ra and Alysane crossed the rubble and entered the dark interior of the castle, they observed a sparse number of desperate Ironborn soldiers already locked in brutal combat with Jorah, Thoros, and a few other royal soldiers.

More Ironborn defenders quickly started trickling in from the inner corridors to join the fray.

Robert’s massive main forces had finally made full landfall right at that exact moment and would inevitably swarm the castle in no time at all.

Alysane started her assault by brutally planting her sharp axe deep into the unprotected knee of an Ironborn who was currently engaged in combat against Jorah.

She did not pause, immediately pivoting and attacking another approaching reaver with her second axe.

The second enemy soldier retaliated quickly, executing a swift and surprisingly skillful thrust of his rusted sword that managed to slow down Alysane’s deadly momentum, although the fierce girl still maintained the clear upper hand in the duel.

She suddenly saw yet another enemy soldier rapidly approaching her blind spot from her left side.

She was not the least bit worried, however, as Ra had already noticed the flanking soldier as well.

The golden giant moved with terrifying speed and simply picked the man up entirely off the stone floor long before the foolish soldier could have ever reached her.

The rest of the approaching Ironborn soldiers instantly halted their aggressive steps in pure horror when Ra effortlessly killed the struggling man in his grip.

He did so by violently smashing the man’s face directly into his own golden helmet, an impact so devastating it practically made the Ironborn’s head explode in a shower of gore.

A simple, forceful physical push from Ra sent an entire tight group of Ironborn violently flying backward across the room.

Those few men who miraculously survived the brutal impact only did so because of the thick leather padding packed inside their iron helmets, though every single one of them was instantly knocked unconscious and taken completely out of the fight.

Another deafening, triumphant roar echoed loudly right behind Ra. King Robert Baratheon had finally entered the breached castle.

His massive, spiked warhammer was held firmly in his tight grip, and a wild, bloodthirsty grin was playing openly across his bearded lips.

Absolutely no words were exchanged before Robert mercilessly smashed his heavy warhammer directly into the face of one of the already disoriented Ironborn soldiers stumbling nearby.

Because the poor wretch did not have a proper helmet on, the sheer force of the king’s blow left only a headless body behind.

Another desperate Ironborn idiot tried to attack the king from the side, though the man fell halfway through his foolish charge.

Alysane had swiftly darted in and cut the back of his knee with her bloody axe. She seamlessly followed the crippling strike by brutally kicking him to further disorient him as he collapsed toward the floor.

She then finished the sequence with a lethal axe strike driven perfectly into the narrow visual gap of his iron helmet, finally finishing the reaver off for good.

The rest of the brutal battle inside the walls was hardly a real battle at all. After not more than half an hour of chaotic, one sided fighting, the remaining Ironborn had completely lost their legendary nerve.

They started throwing down their weapons to immediately surrender the very moment they would witness either the towering golden monster that was Ra or the furious King Robert approaching them.

Although Robert still fervently wanted to kill every last one of the surrendering reavers, Ned stepped in and physically stopped his king from needlessly bashing their defeated heads in.

Robert had angrily fought back against Ned’s mercy at first, shouting curses, but he finally conceded the argument when Ned silently pointed out Maron Greyjoy’s crushed dead body lying broken underneath some collapsed stone rubble.

The adrenaline fueled charge of Robert’s army then slowly transitioned into a methodical, heavily armed walk directly toward Balon Greyjoy’s personal throne room.

All the while, the surviving Ironborn soldiers were being tightly bound with ropes and harshly restrained by the royal forces trailing behind Robert.

“Come out, come out, you little traitor. Your king’s hammer wishes to properly meet you,” Robert bellowed mockingly from just outside the heavy oak doors of Balon’s throne room.

He then forcefully kicked open the grand doors to the damp hall, letting them slam against the stone walls.

Inside, they found Balon Greyjoy sitting rigidly upon the legendary Seastone Chair, his proud head still held stubbornly high in defiance.

Although that false bravado certainly did not last very long when Robert violently threw Maron Greyjoy’s severed head right at his father’s boots just as the king strode into the room.

“I have brought two gifts for you this day, traitor,” Robert growled, his voice echoing in the large hall. “The first one was this,” he added, pointing down at the bloody head with a cruel, satisfied grin.

The king then menacingly raised his heavy warhammer high into the air, fully intending to give Balon the lethal second gift right then and there. However, the Greyjoy lord’s next words halted the swinging hammer midair.

“I am no traitor,” Balon said plainly, speaking as if he were merely stating an absolute, cold fact.

Robert paused instantly. His head cocked to the side in utter bewilderment while his warhammer remained suspended awkwardly above his head. He then turned his confused gaze to Ned standing calmly beside him.

“Did I hear this fool right?” the king asked Ned in utter disbelief.

“If you are asking me, who exactly should I ask, Your Grace?” Ned shot back dryly, his own perplexed expression perfectly mirroring Robert’s bewildered face.

“You may take my head today, but you cannot rightly call me a traitor, for I never once swore you my fealty,” Balon said, defiantly looking up from the ground below the towering Baratheon king.

Robert slowly lowered his heavy warhammer, placing the steel head down by his feet with a loud thud, right next to Balon.

He stood completely silent for some time, staring down at the Lord Reaper of Pyke as he seemed to be turning over a heavy decision in his mind.

“Throw him down in the darkest dungeons for seven straight days. I need to drink, piss, and shit before I decide exactly how I want to punish him for his arrogant crimes.” Robert finally said dismissively, waving a thick hand.

The king then pushed Balon aside, heavily sitting his own bulk down onto the ancient Seastone Chair and loudly ordering a horn of strong drink from one of his passing soldiers.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep