The light in Amory Lorch's eyes completely extinguished, leaving only boundless fear and despair.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something more—perhaps a more vicious curse, or perhaps a humbler plea for mercy...
But Aegon gave him no chance.
A cold black combat boot, carrying the weight of a thousand catties, stomped down fiercely!
It landed precisely on that fat face, twisted by fear and the attempt to defend himself.
"Crack!"
The crisp sound of bone fracturing, enough to make one's teeth ache, rang out, sounding particularly piercing in the deathly silent courtyard.
All of Amory Lorch's sounds were stomped back into his throat by this kick, mixing with shattered teeth, bone, and flesh to become an indistinct whimper.
His cheekbones, bridge of his nose, and jaw almost deformed and collapsed under this single foot.
Intense pain submerged all his consciousness like a tsunami, and his eyeballs even bulged out due to the immense pressure.
Aegon's foot did not lift; it remained steadily and heavily planted on that face that was no longer recognizable as human, pinning his head firmly against the cold black stone ground.
Amory could only writhe his body in vain, letting out hair-raising "he-he" sounds squeezed from the depths of his throat that lacked any melody, mixed with blood and saliva that gurgled from the corners of his deformed mouth, staining the bottom of Aegon's black combat boots red.
Aegon didn't even look down at the wriggling "thing" beneath his foot.
One hand remained pressed on the hilt of the sword dictatorship at his waist, while the other hand drew a small but exceptionally sharp dagger from his belt.
The blade of the dagger glinted coldly under the eerie light of Harrenhal.
He raised the hand holding the dagger and beckoned.
One of the two Ash Company Soldiers who had escorted Amory Lorch earlier immediately stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and lowered his head to await orders.
Aegon handed over that cold, small dagger.
His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly in the hall, reaching the ears of every general, every Soldier, and every prisoner:
"Use this. Flay him alive."
The Soldier's body gave an almost imperceptible jolt, and he snapped his head up, a flash of shock in his eyes.
Aegon continued to issue the order, his tone as casual as if he were ordering a dish for dinner:
"I want him alive. Cut off his flesh, slice by slice. For every complete piece of flesh you cut while he is still living..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Soldier's face.
"I will reward you with a piece of land."
In the courtyard, the extremely faint sound of sharp intakes of breath rang out.
Those bound Westerlands prisoners were even more terrified, trembling; some even closed their eyes, not daring to look further.
Aegon's voice continued, like a demon's whisper, yet also like a king's most generous promise:
"How much land you can obtain depends entirely on... how much pain you can make him feel, and how many cuts he can receive while still alive."
The Ash Company Soldier who had taken the dagger suddenly began to breathe heavily.
He gripped the dagger tightly and suddenly turned his head to look at the mass of flesh on the ground that was still feebly twitching under Aegon's foot, no longer resembling a human.
That gaze was no longer looking at a prisoner, not even at a person.
It was looking at an incredibly rich... trophy built of blood and flesh! It was land! It was wealth! It was status!
The envy in the eyes of the other Soldier who had escorted Amory with him almost became tangible.
He subconsciously licked his dry, cracked lips and tightened his grip on the spear in his hand.
Aegon took all of this in. His gaze swept over the second Soldier, and he spoke flatly:
"You, go with him. Execute him on the spot."
"Yes! Your Highness!" the two Soldiers responded in unison with hoarse voices, their tones somewhat distorted by excitement.
Immediately after, Aegon withdrew his foot.
He didn't even spare another glance at that face beneath his foot that was completely shattered and mangled, only able to emit faint "he-he" sounds, with the lower body already incontinent and a foul stench spreading.
It was as if what he had just crushed was merely an annoying insect.
He turned, his crimson cloak cutting a sharp arc as he walked straight toward the main seat of the hall.
Luke, Laswell Peake, and the other generals and officers hurriedly suppressed the awe and shock in their hearts and followed quickly.
Behind them, the two chosen Ash Company Soldiers, their eyes burning like hungry wolves, took out the ropes they carried and efficiently dragged up Amory Lorch, who was as limp as mud and could only emit desperate whimpers from his throat.
They hung him on a rusty iron hook on one side of the hall that was originally used for hanging banners...
Aegon's footsteps didn't pause for a moment, as if what was about to happen behind him had nothing to do with him.
The hall of the Kingspyre Tower was vast and eerie; a few rays of daylight leaked through the damaged parts of the high dome, yet they could not dispel the heavy darkness.
Aegon sat in the main seat that had originally belonged to the master of Harrenhal and was now vacant.
Luke and Laswell stood on either side, with the other officers standing in order.
This place was not too far from where Amory Lorch was being executed, and the inhuman, heart-wrenching screams coming from over there could be heard faintly.
One after another, higher and higher, full of pain and despair, it was hair-raising to hear.
The sound echoed and distorted within the massive space and corridors of Harrenhal, adding a few layers of hellish horror.
However, Aegon, seated upright in the main seat, had a calm expression without a single ripple.
As if he heard nothing, he spoke and asked in a steady voice:
"How is the situation in The Riverlands?"
Laswell Peake, Luke, and the various generals in the hall subconsciously glanced at each other, all seeing the same solemnity and an indescribable sense of awe in each other's eyes.
They quickly suppressed the churning thoughts in their hearts and forced themselves to pull their attention back from the increasingly shrill screams in the distance.
Laswell Peake took a step forward, cleared his somewhat dry throat, and was the first to report, striving to keep his voice steady:
"Your Highness, The Riverlands is indeed a land of constant warfare. Especially the area around Harrenhal, which had been repeatedly swept and plundered by the Westerlands army sent by Tywin before our forces arrived."
"The nobles of many castles were either taken away or their entire families were killed. The surrounding estates and villages have been burned to the ground; the commoners were either slaughtered or fled completely, leaving only scorched earth and ruins."
"The reason we were able to take Milkstone and Maidenpool without shedding blood earlier is precisely because these two places had already become empty towns; the garrisons had either long since evacuated or only the old and weak remained, surrendering at the first sight of us."
Luke's raspy voice followed to add: "After occupying Harrenhal, we did not rest and have already sent out several groups of scouts to investigate the situation of other surrounding castles."
"Such as Darry城, Lowdell... the reports are mostly similar: the castles are empty, the defenses are weak or even unmanned, and the lands are desolate."
"The plundering by the Westerlands and the previous chaos of war have turned the fertile lands of The Riverlands into a ghost realm."
Aegon listened, his fingers tapping lightly on the rough stone armrest.
When he heard "Darry城," his tapping motion paused for an almost imperceptible moment.
The Darry family...
Some memories, so distant they were somewhat blurred, flashed through his mind.
Darry城, the family that still hung the Targaryen banners during the era of the usurper's dynasty...
He raised his eyes, looked at Luke and Laswell, and issued his orders, his voice echoing in the empty and cold hall, drowning out the screams coming from afar:
"Pass down the order for each unit to act in an orderly manner and take over these vacant castles that no longer resist. Repair basic defenses, establish outposts, and control the main transport routes."
He paused, his gaze falling on the approximate location of Darry城 on the leather map, and added:
"While you're at it, carefully investigate the area around Darry城 to see if there are any remaining blood descendants of the Darry family who are scattered or surviving. If any are found..."
Aegon's voice was clear and certain:
"Ensure their safety and bring them before me intact."
He looked at the generals in the hall, his purple eyes appearing deep in the dim light: "When the Targaryen Dynasty collapsed years ago, the Darry family was one of the few loyalists who fought to the end."
Luke and Laswell Peake bowed at the same time and responded solemnly: "As you command! Your Highness!"
The other generals also took their orders one after another.
Their expressions were complex; Amory Lorch's heart-wrenching, inhuman screams and that execution method so cruel it made one's heart turn cold were still lingering in their ears...
Even though many of them hailed from the Stepstones and were no strangers to cruelty, they still felt a pang of trepidation.
Yet their Highness, listening to such sounds, did not change his expression, calmly discussing military affairs and issuing orders.
And at this moment, he was specifically instructing to ensure someone's safe return because of the possible remaining bloodline of a family that was loyal to the Targaryens many years ago.
Truly... as cruel and heartless as winter to enemies, and as generous and kind as the warm sun to the loyal.
Two completely different attitudes, yet they seemed so natural on Prince Aegon, so... awe-inspiring.
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