Flames devoured the thatched roofs, crackling loudly, and thick smoke brought tears to people's eyes.
An Ironborn dragged a screaming woman like a sheep, her child crying behind her, only to be kicked away by another and then killed with a sword.
Bronn leaned against a blackened giant tree, watching the Ironborn create this hellish scene.
Roderick Greyjoy's longships sailed south along the Blue Fork River, like a pack of hungry wolves invading an unguarded sheepfold.
They burned, killed, plundered, and enjoyed themselves.
They chopped off the heads of men and women and hung them on the sides of their ships, filling their holds with treasures.
Villages along the way turned to ash, and the noble lords who should have protected their people locked their castle gates tightly.
An Ironborn with a scarred face grinned, drinking from a stolen silver goblet.
He chuckled, revealing his yellow teeth, and said to Bronn beside him, "This is easy."
"These greenlanders are all softies."
Bronn sneered inwardly but didn't reply. Softies? These nobles were a bunch of useless cowards who only knew how to collect taxes and sleep with women, worse than dogs.
At least dogs would bark a couple of times.
He had originally planned to slip away in the chaos when the Ironborn fought the Riverlands army, but damn it, there hadn't been any decent resistance along the way.
These nobles would rather watch their liege be massacred than send out a single soldier.
Bronn cursed inwardly, "Damn it, they won't even give me a chance to escape!" He snatched the goblet from the Ironborn beside him and took a deep gulp to suppress his anger.
After the looting, Roderick Greyjoy poked a charred corpse with his foot in the center of the ruined village, looking somewhat unsatisfied.
"This can't go on," Bronn wiped his mouth and stepped forward. "Captain, these small skirmishes aren't enough."
Roderick turned his head, saw it was Bronn, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any good ideas?"
A hint of madness flickered in Bronn's eyes as he gritted his teeth. "We need to make a bigger stir."
"Go deeper inland, make the entire Riverlands tremble."
Roderick frowned and scratched his messy beard. "We only have a few hundred men. If we go deep inland, exposing our true strength, and get surrounded by the greenlanders' large army, we won't be able to go home."
Although he was arrogant, he wasn't foolish. The current smooth sailing was clearly because the Riverlands people didn't know his true strength. If they knew he only had six hundred men, the situation wouldn't be like this.
Bronn pointed to the trembling captives, tied together and ready to be killed later. "Who said we only have a few hundred men?"
A cold, almost cruel smile appeared on his face. Blame your masters for not having the courage to even put up a fight, leaving him no chance to escape.
"Let these Riverlands people mix in with our ranks, with our men guarding the perimeter."
"From a distance, it will look like a vast, dark mass. Who can tell if they are refugees or an army?"
"Then find a few loud-mouthed people to shout in the ranks, saying that Seaguard has been occupied and the Riverlands army has been defeated. That will surely make those noble lords in the small castles wet their pants."
Roderick's eyes instantly lit up. He stared at Bronn, once again recognizing this fellow he had picked up from Lonely Light, who had given him countless surprises.
He clapped Bronn on the shoulder with such force that Bronn stumbled. "By the drowned god! You're a damn genius!"
"You were born to be an Ironborn! From now on, you'll follow me! Don't go back to Lonely Light! There will always be a place for you on my Sea Bitch!"
Roderick burst into laughter, then looked at the Ironborn and shouted orders.
"You heard Hadwin! Get moving!"
The tall walls of Licester Castle looked particularly lonely in the sunset.
Below the castle, thousands of "troops" approached, a vast, dark mass.
Bronn sat on his horse, coldly watching this farce he had personally directed. When those nobles realized that most of these "Ironborn" were shabbily dressed, walking, holding not spears and swords, but pitchforks and wooden sticks, and that most were even women, surely they would bravely fight back!
Lady Lymond Licester, an elderly woman, stood on the castle wall.
Her face was pale, and her fingers gripping the castle's outer wall were white from exertion.
As the group drew closer, an elderly knight noticed the strangeness and anxiously advised her, "My Lady, that's not an army!"
"Look, they don't even have armor! They're just a group of driven refugees!"
"As long as we hold out and wait for Lord Lymond to return with his army from Seaguard..."
Lady Licester screamed, her voice distorted by fear. "Shut up!"
"I see them! I see thousands of people! It's the Ironborn army! They're going to slaughter the city!"
Ignoring the knight's attempts to stop her, she turned and rushed down the castle wall.
"Quick! Open the back gate! We're going to Harrenhal! Hurry!"
Not long after, the back gate of Licester Castle quietly opened, and a small group of people fled in a panic, disappearing into the twilight.
The chaos inside the castle quickly spread outside. The Ironborn let out shouts of victory. They hadn't even fired an arrow, and this sturdy castle had opened its gates for them.
Such an easy victory, everything reflected that the weak greenlanders were no match for them, the Ironborn.
"This foolish woman...!" Bronn looked at the easily won victory, feeling no joy, only an unnamed rage. "These damned nobles!"
"Idiots! Fools!"
Damn it, they ran without even fighting. His escape plan was ruined again.
In the great hall of Licester Castle, the Ironborn were reveling. They wiped their greasy hands on valuable bedsheets and guzzled precious wines like water.
An Ironborn climbed onto a table and urinated on a portrait of the Licester family's ancestors, drawing a burst of laughter.
The screams of the maidservants and the women they brought, mixed with the men's lewd laughter, made the entire castle seem to transform into a giant, filthy brothel.
Roderick Greyjoy grabbed Bronn, pouring him cup after cup of wine:
"Drink! My smartest Ironborn!"
He kept shouting, his breath reeking of wine, "To you! The smartest man on my ship! To our great plan!"
Bronn forced a smile, but cursed incessantly inwardly. He was truly going to be an Ironborn for the rest of his life in this damned place. Looking at Roderick's face, distorted by ecstasy, and at the beast-like Ironborn around him, his face twitched uncontrollably. He suppressed the urge to punch him.
As night deepened, the revelry continued.
Roderick, thoroughly drunk, put his arm around Bronn's neck, bragging and spitting.
"Next... it's Harrenhal! I will take that black castle for my father! I will make the entire Three Rivers kneel at my feet! I will become the greatest conqueror of the Ironborn!"
Bronn smiled perfunctorily, but his heart was cold. His chances of escape were even slimmer. He was now Roderick's treasure, watched closely, with no opportunity to flee.
He knew that the fall of Licester Castle was like a huge stone thrown into a calm lake. The news would quickly spread throughout the Riverlands, and the Riverlands nobles would become even more panicked, hiding in their castles like startled rabbits, even more afraid to come out and resist.
How unlucky.
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