A flurry of rough curses and shoving from the soldiers heralded the arrival of the next prisoner.
Ser Gyles Lege was hauled into the hall. After the gates were breached and he was entirely surrounded by the surging army, he had chosen to throw down his sword and surrender in order to protect his family.
However, he had slaughtered a significant number of Solomon's n in the shallows, and the peasant soldiers offered him no courtesy. They shoved him forward with hostile glares.
At this mont, Gyles's face was the color of ash. He didn't speak a word. He simply used his broad, armored body as a shield, standing firmly in front of his terrified wife and three children.
His two older daughters cowered behind their mother's skirts, while his youngest son, cradled in her arms, stared at the bloodstained, hostile world with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
Solomon looked at the man who had fought like a demon at the gates. He offered no mocking words, nor did he offer false comfort.
He simply turned to his guards and issued an order. "Take Ser Gyles and his family away. Put them in a private, secure room under strict guard. See to it that they are fed and that no harm cos to them."
Gyles looked up, his eyes eting Solomon's. A complex swirl of emotions flickered in his gaze before he lowered his head and silently followed the guards out of the hall.
The Great Hall emptied, leaving only the crackling pop of the burning torches. Solomon ascended the steps and settled back into Roger Lege's high seat.
He steepled his fingers, resting his chin on his hands.
Roger Lege's wife and his brother. I can certainly use them to force his hand.
A sudden gust of wind swept into the hall as Lushen practically sprinted through the doors.
His helt strap was loose, and his armor was caked in mud and dried blood, but his face was lit with a manic, euphoric glow.
"Lord Solomon!!" His voice bood through the hall, drowning out the distant, scattered noises of the battlefield cleanup.
Solomon looked at him, a genuine smile breaking through his stoic facade. This has to be good news. "Is the inventory complete?"
Lushen strode to the base of the dais, his body trembling with excitent. "It's done, Lord Solomon! You can't even imagine it!"
"I have never seen so much food in my entire life, my lord!"
"The granaries! We found three main silos! The grain is piled up like mountains! And the salted pork and dried fish—they're hanging from the rafters until there's no room to walk!"
He had to pause to catch his breath, montarily overco by the sheer scale of the wealth. To a man born a peasant, discovering an endless sea of food was the most intoxicating sight in the world.
"There's enough to feed our entire army! We could eat until our bellies burst for half a year, and we'd still have leftovers!!"
Solomon stood up and slowly descended the steps. For a mont, he seed lost in thought, leaving Lushen standing there in confused anticipation. Finally, Solomon issued his command.
"Excellent."
"Pass down the order. No alcohol is to be touched, but tell the n to drag the captured salted ats outside. I want roasting spits set up directly across the moat from the inner keep. Tonight, we feast. Every man eats at until he is full."
"And what of the armory?"
At the ntion of equipnt, Lushen's fervor spiked again. "We found it! And it's a treasure trove!"
"House Lege's armory! Beyond their four hundred sets of standard-issue gear bearing the willow crest, there are countless crates of assorted weapons and armor!"
Solomon gestured for Lushen to lead the way. In tis of war, nothing was more precious than cold, hard steel.
The heavy iron doors of the armory were thrown wide open. A heavy, tallic stench of rust, oiled leather, and old sweat rolled out to et them.
Soldiers were frantically hauling out crates of weapons and armor, sorting them into piles in the courtyard.
Under the afternoon sun, the cold black iron flashed with a blinding, lethal light.
Solomon's eyes glead as they swept over the mountains of spoils.
Not even a chest of Golden Dragons could excite him quite like this.
He saw rows of uniform kite shields painted with the green weeping willow. He saw hundreds of ticulously crafted ringmail shirts, and even a handful of full-plate harnesses resting on wooden stands.
Solomon walked over to a pile of assorted weapons, casually picking up a longsword and giving it a test swing. He then inspected a chainmail shirt; the shoulders and chest were reinforced with boiled leather—rough, but highly practical.
Up until yesterday, the vast majority of his army had marched in tattered tunics, clutching rusted farm implents.
Now, the steel laid out before him was enough to completely transform them.
Without looking at Lushen, Solomon tossed the sword lightly in his hand. His voice was sharp and decisive. "Lushen."
"Sort out the finest armor and master-crafted weapons. Equip my veterans first."
"Take the standard-issue gear and distribute it to our strongest, most capable n. Have them throw away their pitchforks and hoes."
He paused, pointing toward a pile of bloodstained, damaged gear that had likely been stripped directly from the Lege dead at the riverbank.
"Take the damaged and older pieces that can still be patched up, and give them to the lighter-built n."
"By the end of the day, I want every single man under my banner holding a proper spear and a shield."
"Yes, Lord Solomon!!" Lushen roared.
"It seems our n will no longer have to use their flesh to blunt the enemy's steel."
Solomon looked at his soldiers, who were laughing and shouting as they eagerly strapped on their new armor. A dark smile touched his lips. Nothing beats taking it from the enemy. This is the feeling of true victory.
In a single afternoon, Solomon's army shed its old skin.
The ragged, mud-stained peasants disappeared. In their place stood an armored host, gripping military-grade steel. From a distance, it was impossible to tell they had been farrs just a day before.
As night fell, dozens of massive bonfires were lit in the open courtyard directly facing the inner keep.
Huge slabs of salted pork and mutton sizzled over the open flas. The rendered fat dripped into the fire, sending plus of smoke and an incredibly rich, mouth-watering aroma into the night air.
The soldiers crowded around the fires, tearing into the at, laughing boisterously, and celebrating their miraculous victory.
Up on the battlents of the inner keep, the surviving Lege guards watched the feast, their Adam's apples bobbing frantically as they swallowed dry air. In the panic of the retreat, they had barely managed to secure any rations. What little food they had was now strictly rationed; each man was allowed only a single, ager bite.
The deafening cheers and the maddening scent of roasting at acted as an invisible siege engine, battering relentlessly against the fragile, fraying nerves of the trapped defenders.
Solomon did not join the revelry outside. He sat alone in the brightly lit Great Hall, staring at the final inventory ledger prepared by a captured, literate steward.
When Lushen had handed it to him, the man's hands had been shaking. Solomon took the heavy roll of parchnt and unfurled it slowly.
His eyes scanned the top entries, reading the jagged Common Tongue script that detailed his newly acquired wealth.
Spears: 1,000 . Swords and blades: 500 . Chainmail and ringmail: 400 sets. Plate armor: 16 sets...
His finger traced further down, uncovering even more staggering entries looted from the outer keep's manses: fine glassware, Myrish tapestries, jewelry, and chests of silver.
The sheer numbers made Solomon's breath hitch slightly. He drew a deep breath, wondering just how much more wealth was locked inside the inner keep's vaults.
War really is the answer...
Nothing is faster than robbing it from soone else.
Plough and fight, fight and plough... beco like the Ironborn, beco like the wildlings.
At the very end of the ledger, attached as a separate, smaller booklet, the steward had written a specific heading in vivid red ink.
"Ledger of Kingsroad Transit Taxes and Caravan Tributes."
As Solomon read the contents beneath that heading, his pupils suddenly contracted.
70 chapters are available now and daily updates! @patreon/AgentTwilight
User Comments
0 comments from readers