..."Hahaha~"
These words caused the Ironborn on the ship to burst into laughter, their eyes turning toward Pyke, who seemed to have no idea how high the sky was.
"Kid, are you joking with me?"
One-Eyed Jamy laughed so hard that tears almost flowed from his remaining left eye.
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead tightly against Pyke's, as if he wanted to get a good look at this arrogant "Westerlands noble."
"I've already made it very clear to you: either produce five thousand Gold Dragons, or..."
He scanned the controlled sailors on the ship, finally resting his gaze on Old Shag, revealing a cruel, sinister grin:
"I'll sink you all into the sea!"
Facing One-Eyed Jamy's fierce gaze, Old Shag didn't even have the courage to lift his head. He pressed his forehead firmly against the deck, trembling, only hoping that Pyke wouldn't provoke the man further.
To everyone's surprise, Pyke did not back down. Instead, he spoke calmly and slowly:
"The seabed has a place prepared for everyone."
"But not for me."
"Then go die!"
With Pyke's further provocation, One-Eyed Jamy could no longer endure it. He raised the harpoon in his hand and stabbed it fiercely toward Pyke's head.
The harpoon fell rapidly, passing straight through Pyke's body. The Ironborn thought this thin fellow was about to die at One-Eyed Jamy's hands.
But One-Eyed Jamy noticed something was wrong.
He didn't feel the feedback of the harpoon piercing a body; it was as if he had stabbed through thin air.
Then, under everyone's incredulous gazes, Pyke took two steps forward, passing through One-Eyed Jamy's body like a ghost.
A cold dagger was held against One-Eyed Jamy's neck, and Pyke's raspy voice came from behind him:
"Your Soul is so foul-smelling that you aren't even qualified to offer it to the great lich king."
As soon as he finished speaking, the sharp dagger sliced cleanly through the neck. One-Eyed Jamy clutched his throat tightly with both hands, his single eye bulging as he made "kah... kah..." sounds.
With a dull thud as he hit the ground, this Ironborn who lived by raiding ended his wicked life.
Dropping the dagger in his hand, Pyke walked slowly to One-Eyed Jamy's corpse, knelt down, pried open the hand that hadn't yet stiffened, and picked up the uniquely shaped harpoon.
For some reason, from the first moment Pyke saw this weapon, he had developed a very strong interest in it.
A cold sensation came from the grip. Holding the weapon that felt as if it were tailor-made for him, a satisfied smile appeared on Pyke's face.
"Next..."
He scanned the Ironborn, who were already trembling with fear from the scene they just witnessed. They had dropped their weapons and were kneeling on the ground, loudly shouting about the "descent of the drowned god." Pyke clearly had no intention of letting them go.
"It's your turn!"
As if death had entered a countdown, Pyke's figure vanished instantly, reappearing behind an Ironborn. The harpoon pierced through the man's chest, ruthlessly taking his life.
Seeing this, the other Ironborn became even more terrified, kowtowing to the air and crying out loudly in hopes of finding a way to survive.
But Pyke turned a completely deaf ear to their pleas for mercy, mechanically repeating his slaughter.
The behavior of these Ironborn reminded him of his own past experience.
If not for these insane bandits, his wife Jenny probably wouldn't have committed suicide after being unable to bear the humiliation.
Vanishing... appearing... killing... and then vanishing again... As time passed, Pyke's figure slowly appeared behind the last Ironborn who had boarded the ship to raid.
Seemingly scared out of his wits, this Ironborn did not beg for mercy like the others. Instead, a half-smile appeared on his face, and he turned his head somewhat neurotically to look at Pyke holding the harpoon:
"What is dead... may never die."
With his right hand pressed tightly against his chest, under his fanatical gaze, Pyke considerately slit his throat, sending him back to the embrace of the drowned god.
"drowned god..."
"drowned god!"
After everything had settled, the crew who had escaped death, led by Old Shag, scrambled to Pyke. They all knelt on the ground with their right hands clenched into fists against their chests:
"My Lord, are you the drowned god himself?"
"Or are you an envoy sent by the drowned god to save us!"
Looking at the fanatical gazes everyone cast toward him, Pyke shook his head and walked slowly back toward his cabin:
"I am no envoy of the drowned god, nor am I some Westerlands noble, Shag."
"The Iron Islands are my home. My former home was on Pyke Island."
"My name... is Pyke!"
..."I wonder if that fellow Pyke has reached the Iron Islands yet."
In King's Landing at dawn, Arthas, clad in silver-white heavy armor and holding frostmourne, stood on the plaza of the Gold Cloaks Headquarters. His gaze turned toward the distant west, and his thoughts returned to the day he first met Pyke... "Lord Arthas!"
"Yo, Pyke, why did you run all the way here?"
Looking at the dusty Pyke, who was panting heavily, the smile on Arthas's face remained as gentle as ever.
"Have some water first, then speak slowly."
Although he didn't know why this thin man had run dozens of miles to catch up with him, Arthas still kindly handed him his waterskin.
"Jenny..."
"My Jenny..."
Without taking the waterskin, Pyke collapsed to his knees. As if his exhaustion didn't exist, tears flowed down continuously:
"She committed suicide!"
"Those damned bandits, they took turns defiling her."
"When I got home, I stayed by her side constantly. I thought I had already calmed her down, but when I went out to cook for her and came back..."
In his agitation, Pyke's words became somewhat incoherent. He just kept pounding the ground, as if only this could slightly alleviate the pain in his heart.
"Sigh..."
Arthas reached out and gently stroked the head of this devoted man, not minding the dirt on him at all:
"While I sympathize with your plight, Pyke..."
He slowly stood up and said in a somewhat regretful tone:
"I'm sorry, but with my current power, I cannot bring your Jenny back."
Not paying attention to the meaning behind Arthas's words, Pyke just continued to weep heart-wrenchingly, letting the dust on the ground enter his nose and mouth.
"So... what is it you want from me?"
Helping the grieving man up, Arthas stared into his eyes with a piercing gaze and asked:
"Do you want Ser Gregor to compensate you with money, or have him find you another wife in his lands?"
"No!"
To Arthas's surprise, Pyke did not make any request for compensation.
He wiped the tears from his face and looked firmly at the gentle youth before him, who was different from other nobles:
"Lord Arthas, please let me follow you."
"I don't want to be bullied by others anymore. Please train me; I can do anything for you."
"I want to become strong, and then kill every single one of those damned bandits in this world!"
Seeing Pyke's determined expression, Arthas's golden pupils seemed to flicker slightly.
After thinking for a moment, he made a decision and lightly patted Pyke's shoulder, questioning him in a solemn tone:
"Do you really want to become strong, Pyke?"
In Pyke's shocked eyes, a wisp of pure dark energy slowly emerged from Arthas's hand:
"Even if the price is offering up your Soul, you wouldn't hesitate, would you?"
"That's right!"
After a brief moment of shock, Pyke collapsed to his knees once more. Facing this incredibly evil energy, he did not show even a hint of hesitation:
"After Jenny died, my Soul no longer belonged to me."
"Please, take it as you wish."
"Lord Arthas!"
..."Lord Arthas!"
A soft call interrupted Arthas's memories.
Turning his head, Lancel knelt on one knee to his front right with an excited look on his face:
"The troops have finished assembling and are ready to depart at any time!"
Following his report, Arthas looked up and saw the dense ranks of Gold Cloaks standing in neat formations on the plaza.
Six thousand men!
There were actually six thousand Gold Cloaks assembled here, which was almost all of the security forces in King's Landing.
A killing aura emanated from the neat phalanxes. If an ordinary person were to pass by here, they would probably be scared into wetting their pants.
"According to the original plan, everyone is divided into one hundred squads. Advance toward your designated areas!"
With a wave of his hand, Arthas issued his first large-scale mission command since becoming the commander of the city watch.
That's right, our Prince of Lordaeron is finally going to start cleaning up the public order in King's Landing!
As the capital of the kingdom, the security situation in King's Landing was truly too ridiculous.
In Flea Bottom, underground gangs ran rampant, cults proliferated, filthy brothels could be seen everywhere, and robberies and murders happened every day.
Even the ordinary nobles in King's Landing hardly dared to go out at night!
The starving commoners didn't care if you were a noble; they only knew that those fat, pale fellows tasted much better than skinny children!
Arthas could ignore what happened in the past, and it was beyond his control.
But now that he had become the Gold Cloaks commander of King's Landing, he could never tolerate such a chaotic situation occurring under his rule.
To clean up the King's Landing of King Robert's licentious and unprincipled kingdom, Arthas had gone to great lengths to formulate such a plan.
He called it—Operation Hundred-Day Purge!
One hundred squads moved out in an orderly fashion under the leadership of their respective Lannister knight captains, scattering toward King's Landing like a swarm of bees.
Only twenty of the Lannister personal guard knights remained by his side.
"Lord Janos."
Arthas turned his cold gaze toward the former commander Janos, who was shivering beside him. It was as if even his smile revealed a chilling, terrifying aura:
"Please lead the way for us."
"Let a country bumpkin like me from the Westerlands see exactly how many Gold Dragons you've extorted during your years as the commander of the city watch!"
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)