At the hour of the Ox, the execution ground outside Crakehall Hall was as silent as a tomb.
Sixty-seven n, won, and children of House Crakehall, wearing cangues, were forced to their knees by soldiers.
Their hair was disheveled, their clothes ragged. So wept silently, so slumped limply on the ground, so trembled like sieves.
The air was filled with a foul stench of urine… so had lost control of their bladders.
At the front of the execution ground, three thousand Draco soldiers stood in formation, their armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Behind them were the morial mounds of their fallen comrades who had died in the rebellion. One thousand broken swords were planted before the mounds, blades downward, stuck into the earth like one thousand silent tombstones.
The wind blew, rustling the sword tassels with a soft sound, as if the dead were whispering.
On both sides of the execution ground, the smallfolk of Crakehall Hall and farrs and rchants from surrounding villages and towns crowded to watch.
No one dared speak loudly. No one dared whisper.
They simply stood there, eyes wide, staring at the sixty-seven people kneeling on the ground.
Daven Crakehall knelt at the very front, disheveled and filthy. The cangue had rubbed his neck raw, mixing blood scabs with dirt.
He wailed heart-wrenchingly, his voice hoarse as if scraped by sandpaper: "No, no… Tyrant, you cannot do this!"
Then he began to cry again, snot and tears covering his face. "No, no, no, I was wrong, I was wrong, Your Grace, Your Grace, I was wrong. All the mistakes are mine alone. Please punish only ! Let the others go! They are innocent!"
Luke hovered above the execution ground. His six flaming wings flapped slowly behind him, sending waves of heat rolling toward the ground.
He looked down at the man who had once shouted "You will die a horrible death," now kneeling in the mud like a beaten dog, begging for rcy.
The corners of his mouth curved into a cold arc.
"Innocent?" His voice ca from above, like the trumpet of judgnt. "They ate House Crakehall's food, wore House Crakehall's clothes, and enjoyed House Crakehall's power and glory. When you rebelled, why didn't they stand up and say you were wrong? When you colluded with the enemy, why didn't they tie you up and beg for forgiveness? When you raised troops, why didn't they flee this castle?"
Daven opened his mouth but could not speak.
Luke's voice stabbed down like an ice pick: "In House Crakehall, there is not a single innocent person."
He raised his hand. A golden imperial decree materialized in his palm and slowly unfurled, shining brilliantly in the sunlight. Every word on it burned like fla.
Luke personally read the decree aloud. His voice, amplified through speakers, spread across all of Crakehall Hall.
"Luke Jaqenion, Protector of the Realm, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Head of House Jaqenion, in the sacred na of the Seven Gods, hereby proclaims to the world:
It has been found that House Crakehall, having received great favor from the realm and bathed in the light of the Seven Gods, and having been generously rewarded by House Jaqenion, held high position and rich emolunts.
They should have upheld their duty as vassals, remained loyal to the royal house, and repaid the realm's grace in so small asure.
Who could have expected their wolfish ambition and treacherous hearts? At a ti when the realm faced many difficulties, instead of thinking of repaynt, they colluded with the enemy, secretly communicated with foreign powers, leaked military secrets, and caused border alarms and the bloodshed of soldiers.
Their cri one: Colluding with the enemy and betraying the realm, privately communicating with foreign invaders and selling out military strategy;
Their cri two: Committing treason and rebellion, breaking their oaths, and raising troops against the royal army;
Their cri three: Forgetting kindness and turning against the realm and king, defiling the sacred na of the Seven Gods.
Such conduct enrages both gods and n. Heaven and earth cannot tolerate it.
Now, by the clear mandate of the Seven Gods and carrying the mighty na of the Celestial Dragons, I, Luke Jaqenion, have decided to sentence the entire House Crakehall to death.
All direct and collateral blood relatives of House Crakehall, regardless of age or gender, shall be exterminated;
Their domain of Crakehall Hall shall be confiscated by the state and never re-enfeoffed;
Their family emblem — the pale boar — shall be burned to ashes and never used again for all eternity;
From this day forward, the na Crakehall shall be completely erased from the imperial historical records.
Within the empire's borders, no noble or commoner may ever again use the surna 'Crakehall.'
Anyone who dares to hide, shelter, or plead for the remnants of House Crakehall shall share the sa cri.
This sentence shall be carried out imdiately, with no rcy.
In the na of the Seven Gods, in the na of the King, in the na of our ancestors.
Let future generations know: Those who oppose House Jaqenion shall have their clans exterminated without rcy."
After the decree was read, the execution ground fell into deathly silence.
The watching smallfolk, the soldiers in formation, and the executioners all held their breath.
Westeros had never seen such a punishnt before.
The term "extermination of house and clan" appeared on this land for the first ti today.
From now on, it would hang over the heads of all nobles like a sword, keeping them awake at night.
"The hour of the Ox has arrived."
The overseer's voice exploded in the silence, like a stone dropped into a deep pool.
"Execute!"
Sixty-seven blades rose at the sa ti, flashing coldly in the sunlight.
Then they fell together.
Schlick—
Sixty-seven heads rolled onto the ground. Blood gushed out, soaking the earth of the execution ground.
Sixty-seven bodies collapsed. The cangues hit the ground with dull thuds.
In the crowd, so let out suppressed gasps, so covered their children's eyes, so turned away and retched.
No one dared cry out loud. No one dared discuss it. No one even dared to breathe loudly.
Luke hovered in the air, watching everything with an expressionless face.
Sixty-seven heads, sixty-seven bodies… No, far more than that.
The daughters of House Crakehall who had married out, the wives who had married in, the sons-in-law who had married into the family, and the eldest son currently studying in Draco.
They would all die… not a single one would escape.
He had already sent letters to all the Westerlands nobles: anyone in their family with the Crakehall surna must be publicly beheaded, and the heads sent to Crakehall Hall.
The heads must be verified and signed by the local noble lord or his heir to confirm they belonged to the person.
Anyone who refused to carry out the order or tried to substitute another person would be considered guilty of the sa treason, and their entire house would be implicated.
No one of Crakehall blood in the current generation may inherit any land or title. Their right of inheritance is revoked!
At the sa ti, an urgent letter was sent to Draco ordering the arrest and public execution of the eldest son of House Crakehall, who was studying at the Jaqenion Academy.
He didn't care whether the eldest son had anything to do with House Crakehall's rebellion.
House Crakehall had rebelled, so they all had to die.
"Pass the order," Luke said to the scribe beside him as he landed.
His voice was calm, as if giving routine instructions.
"First, the troops at Crakehall Hall will rest temporarily and wait for Marcus to bring n from Casterly Rock to join them. Once they join forces, the two armies will march south along the coastal road. First destroy Goldengrove and Old Oak, then sweep all the castles around Highgarden and force the Highgarden garrison to co out and fight."
The scribe recorded it quickly.
"Second, tell Marcus: The main force of House Tyrell has gone north. He cannot take Highgarden with ten thousand n, but he doesn't need to. He only needs to show off his military might, kill people, burn things, and make the Reach bleed. The lords of the Reach have been too rich for too long, too comfortable for too long. They must be made to feel pain. They must know that there is no eternal neutrality, no eternal fence-sitting. If you choose the wrong side, you will be beaten."
"Third…" He paused, his gaze sweeping over the still-bleeding heads on the execution ground. "Preserve these heads with li and send them to the Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Vale, the Stormlands, the Reach, the North, and Dorne. Let every noble see with their own eyes the fate of those who collude with the enemy and commit treason. Attach copies of the imperial decree — one for each house."
The scribe's pen scratched rapidly across the paper.
Luke took one final look at the sixty-seven corpses.
"What is extermination of house and clan?" he murmured. The corners of his mouth curved into a cold arc.
In the future, it would only escalate. Once the empire's foundation was solid… nine clans extermination? That would be light!
Emperors always killed by "clan."
When the Son of Heaven is enraged, a million corpses lie scattered.
He spread his flaming six wings and rose into the sky.
There was still a group of clowns waiting for him in Harrenhal.
Randyll Tarly with sixty thousand n, and thirty thousand from the Vale.
They were all waiting for him.
An urgent letter from Draco required Luke to return and take charge of Harrenhal, so he had to abandon the idea of sweeping through the Reach for now.
Behind him, the execution ground was already being cleaned up.
So people washed the ground with water, so carried away corpses on stretchers, so collected the rolling heads.
Blood dyed the entire execution ground a dark red, like a massive bloodstain deeply branded into the earth.
This execution was later recorded in the empire's junior high school history textbooks.
The textbook wrote: In the autumn of the first year of the empire, House Crakehall colluded with the enemy and committed treason. The entire clan was exterminated.
This was the first "extermination of house and clan" incident in imperial history.
From then on, the nobles of Westeros finally understood one thing: the era had changed.
This new king was not like the weak, rule-bound kings they had dealt with before — kings who could be bribed, threatened, or manipulated.
This king truly killed people.
He truly exterminated clans.
He truly made a surna that had lasted for hundreds or even thousands of years disappear completely from this land.
Luke flew high in the sky, heading north.
The wind howled past his ears, clouds churned beneath his feet.
There was no ripple in his heart — only cold determination.
Those nobles thought that uniting could stop him, that sixty thousand n could crush him, that spreading rumors and waging an information war could nail him to the pillar of sha as a "tyrant."
They didn't know that he didn't mind being called a tyrant at all.
In his view, the title "tyrant" was ten thousand tis more useful than "benevolent ruler."
A benevolent ruler had to reason with people, weigh pros and cons, and consider everyone's feelings.
A tyrant only needed to do one thing: make everyone fear him.
When everyone fears you, you don't need to reason, you don't need to weigh pros and cons, you don't need to consider anyone's feelings.
You only need to say one sentence and wait for them to obey.
Luke had always maintained the image of a "rciful" king, but from now on he would gradually change that…
Thunder and rain, both are the grace of the ruler!
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