The entire hall fell into profound silence.
Every soul present gazed upon the writhing, whimpering remnant of flesh upon the stone floor, their hearts trembling with horror.
Gods preserve us...
It would have been kinder to simply execute him!
What manner of creature was he now? A bloody, disgusting mass of meat—a wholly new form of torment that defied all comprehension!
All could hear Crow's Eye produce one weak, pitiful sound before falling into absolute silence. Yet the King's cold and merciless judgment seemed to echo still throughout the great hall.
Everyone understood with crystalline clarity: Euron Crow's Eye's fate had been sealed beyond all possibility of redemption.
Such grievous punishment had already been inflicted—what more could mortal justice demand?
Compared to this living hell, the death penalty seemed almost merciful.
With this demonstration, the lords and knights of the Shield Islands possessed even less reason to stand and voice objection.
Feeling inexplicably uneasy, they looked about the hall with growing awareness.
Most of those attending this grim assembly were officers sworn to the King and nobles from distant lands. Only a few dozen of their own Shield Islands folk were present—less than one-tenth of the total gathered.
Through the hall's dozen windows, they glimpsed portions of the sea monster—nay, the creature now called Kraken—that dominated the view outside.
This leviathan lay sprawled across the courtyard beyond the hall. During its journey to crawl toward the castle, most of Hewett Town's population had witnessed its terrible majesty.
The harbor below teemed with the King's warships, making the already modest pier appear impossibly cramped.
Three hundred vessels in all.
The power of this fleet had been clearly demonstrated—they could truly be called invincible upon the seas.
Recalling all they had witnessed—the changes, the details of these past two days—their eyes sought Garlan Tyrell, who stood not far from King Joffrey's throne.
The Shield Islands had long served as Highgarden's stalwart defense, yet that protection was clearly lost. What thoughts occupied the golden roses now?
Garlan studied the floor tiles with intense concentration, as if their pattern held the secrets of the realm.
Faria Flowers observed Garlan with deep understanding, recognizing in his silence the same melancholy she had glimpsed yesterday.
The King could act with such brazen authority within the Hewett family's own castle—would he show much greater restraint when dealing with Highgarden itself?
Perhaps such deference had been necessary before. Yet the Iron Throne of today no longer required such careful diplomacy.
Garlan had likely been reluctant to make this journey from the start.
The golden roses had offered up the Shields like a sacrificial lamb.
Faria granted Garlan one final look, filled with complex emotions she could not even name, then withdrew her gaze and drew a steadying breath.
The past is past.
Faria straightened the naval officer's badge pinned upon her chest. Now I serve in the navy, belonging to the Royal Fleet, pursuing glory and victory.
"Mia."
The King's voice, soft yet commanding, shattered the oppressive silence that had settled like a shroud.
Faria and all others turned their attention toward the girl.
Faria could not help but sigh inwardly. The fates of two bastard daughters had been completely transformed on this single day.
One had claimed her future, the other found rebirth.
In comparison, Faria understood that the Mia before her had suffered far greater misfortune than herself—yet had also received far greater redemption.
Mia. A bastard daughter from the Westerlands.
Upon her face, Faria could read the satisfaction of revenge, gradually concealed resentment, and a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
"Your Grace." Mia knelt directly before the King, gazing up at his handsome features.
"House Farman should not perish in such fashion," His Grace declared. "The devastated Fair Isle requires new leadership—a noble, upright, kind, loyal, and convincing ruler."
Immediately, sharp intakes of breath filled the hall.
Faria felt equal surprise course through her.
She stared at Mia as the girl lowered her head in apparent sorrow, quietly awaiting royal command.
The King sighed with apparent regret. "Fortunately, we yet have you, Mia, who was raised within the Farman family's castle and lived alongside her parents and brothers."
Mia trembled uncontrollably, seeming to weep while simultaneously restraining great excitement.
Faria grasped the profound significance of the King's words.
Differences existed even among bastards. Those unrecognized by their fathers could mostly only survive alone in the world, little better than orphans without patron or protection.
Acknowledged bastards proved far more fortunate.
Typically, they would be brought to their father's castle to live among the noble family, regarded as members of the household in all but formal law.
The King possessed power to legitimize recognized bastards, granting them rights to inherit their father's territories, titles, castles, and wealth—though their place in the succession would rank at the very end.
The essential requirement was public recognition and integration into the family.
Yet not all bastards dwelling in castles necessarily enjoyed such recognition. Faria possessed intimate understanding of this harsh truth.
She herself had never been acknowledged by her father.
Instead, she had endured the cold stares and cruel treatment of her stepmother and trueborn sisters—the typical suffering inflicted upon bastard daughters.
Had she not known that life beyond the castle walls would prove even worse, Faria would never have endured such humiliation, debasing herself as little more than a "servant"!
But what of Mia?
Had Lord Farman truly allowed her to live beneath his roof while refusing to acknowledge her identity?
Faria had never heard such tales.
The situation of bastard daughters receiving paternal recognition was hardly uncommon. Even from distant Westerlands, the Shield Islands should have caught wind of such notable developments.
Was Mia never acknowledged?
Faria could not maintain such thoughts. After all, King Joffrey had already granted recognition himself—surely it could not be false?
These considerations flashed through Faria's mind in mere moments.
Then she heard the King proclaim: "In the name of the Iron Throne, the bloodline of Mia Stone is hereby legitimized. According to law, she enjoys full rights to inherit all legal properties belonging to House Farman's holdings, titles, and wealth."
His Grace reached out to touch the girl's shoulder. "Have you any objections, Mia?"
The assembled crowd held their collective breath.
Mia's eyes brimmed with tears even as a radiant smile transformed her features. "Mia humbly obeys Your Grace's will!"
Faria felt a sharp pang pierce her heart as indescribable bitterness filled her mouth. Mia! Become Farman! A bastard daughter transformed into a Farman! A Farman of Fair Isle!
Not merely reborn—she had ascended to the heavens in a single stroke!
Moreover, with no surviving members of House Farman's direct line, who could possibly contest her inheritance?
Faria could not suppress the envy and even jealousy that welled within her breast.
Compared to what Mia Stone had gained, what value held a mere liaison officer's position? Was she not still a lowly bastard daughter? Not even the least of nobles!
The King continued: "Affairs of state press heavily upon us, so all ceremonies should remain simple. Mia, Fair Isle and House Farman are entrusted to your care. Here and now, swear your allegiance to your rightful sovereign, Lord Farman, Governor of Fair Isle."
The crowd's gazes grew more intense and searching.
Governor again! The King's intentions could be determined with absolute certainty. Could the Shield Islands escape similar fate?
Governor. Faria Flowers felt hope kindle anew within her heart. Yes, King Joffrey must harbor designs upon the Shield Islands as well! I can serve! My position is perfectly suited! It must be so!
Faria's eyes blazed with fierce determination as she turned to look directly toward the high platform.
His Grace had already helped the fortunate woman to her feet and presented her with a distinctive circular badge. Then the King's gaze found her across the hall.
"Faria, step forward," the King commanded with a knowing smile.
Faria blinked once, drew a deep breath, stepped carefully over the blood pooling upon the stones, stepped past the withered remnant of Crow's Eye, and walked toward her destiny...