AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 450 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
He pulled the Lannister man from the ground, squeezing his face as he lifted him, but leaving his eyes so that Gorman could look into them.
The man was still defiant, obviously, but Gorman had ways of changing that. Ways that were far better at keeping the man alive compared to slicing his face off.
...
"You're not a coward," Gorman said in a low voice, his old eyes fixed on the man's gaze. "I'll grant you that. So I'll offer you one chance to talk, but only once I tell you what we'll do to you if you don't." Gorman kept his hand over the man's mouth, holding him there as he spoke, his voice low and dark.
"If you talk, then after the raid is done, we'll set you free, unharmed, and you can stagger back to whatever hovel you call home and weep for being a traitor, or whatever it is you plan to do. You'll have lost your right to call yourself a man, but you'll be alive, unharmed, and unspoiled." Gorman spoke quietly.
"If you don't talk, then I'll take you back to my ship over there, and we'll peel some splinters off of the walls. Then, we'll start pushing them under your toenails, one at a time, with a hammer, until you talk." Gorman let the statement hang for a moment. "If that doesn't work, we'll start on your fingernails. Then we'll start cutting off your toes, then your fingers." he kept his voice low, and precise, even as the young man started to look around wildly.
"After that, we'll probably rip out your teeth, then probably your dick. If you still won't talk at that point, we'll start with the red hot knives on your skin. And then I'll let my boys get creative.
By then it won't be about making you talk any more, it'll be about making your death as torturous and protracted as possible. And when you do die eventually, a broken and worthless husk of a man, we'll feed your corpse to pigs so you can get shat out into the mud." Gorman kept his eyes on the man's as he spoke, making sure that the Westerlander knew every word.
"Of course, if you endure all that, and you still never talk, then you'll have the right to call yourself a true man. But do you think you'll make it that far? Or will you be a broken husk by the halfway mark? Let me tell you, boy, I know how this story ends."
Finally, he released the man's cheeks, letting him slump to the ground. "Live as a coward or die as a broken corpse. I'll give you a few moments to think about it. Then we'll see if you're ready to talk." Gorman walked back towards where the bulk of his men were grumbling on the coast, clapping Longshanks on the shoulder. "Come on, let's have something to eat. We can come back in a bit."
The cocky brat, who had given so much lip to Gorman before, seemed a bit awed by the show of force, his eyes wide as he turned and followed without a word, at least for a few dozen paces.
"That's a lot of effort to take, torturing one man," Longshanks said finally as they moved down towards their ships.
"If he got past the toenails without talking I'd just kill him." Gorman shrugged. "If a man can stomach the thought of all that without breaking, I'd never get anything useful out of him anyway."
The Greyjoy heir snorted. "You really are as hard as they say. I hadn't seen it before, but I saw it there."
Gorman smirked, tapping his forehead with two fingers. "A good Ironborn lives as much by his head as his arm Longshanks, you've got the spirit, but you don't have the experience." He gestured back over his shoulder. "If we take that Castle you're after it'll be through guile, not strength. We don't have enough men to take even a small keep by storm. Not unless the Lion left hardly anything behind. And they'll likely have the men from this town at any rate."
"Greenlander men are weak, except their knights sometimes," Longshanks grumbled, but didn't disagree.
"On a ship maybe, but not on top of a wall fifteen feet up and throwing rocks at your head. No, we'll see what our friend has to say. If we can't take the castle tomorrow, then we leave in the morning and take our loot back to the islands."
There was a long time, perhaps a full two minutes when the statement hung in the salty air between them. A silent battle of wills. Of the young and impetuous running against the long teachings of the years. In the end, though, Gorman's side won out.
"...Fine, I'll leave it to you," Longshanks grumbled, but Gorman met it with a small smile and a nod. Good. The brat could learn when he'd been wrong. That would be a good thing for the Iron Islands when he became Lord of Pyke. Lord Quellon was getting on in years anyway.
"Good… now let's see if our captive's tongue is loosened up yet." Gorman smiled. "We may take your plunder yet."
Walking back into the square, the man was still chained up, lying on the ground, his eyes were desperate but sharp, a foul expression on his face, as if he'd smelled something disgusting.
Gorman just gave him a hearty smile and a jaunty wave. "Well then, Greenlander, are you ready to talk? Or should I have the hammer ready?"
"I'll talk. I'll talk." The man said quietly. "I have a son at home, and my parents too will miss me, so I'll talk."
"Smart man, They'll keep a coward company no doubt," Gorman said cheerfully, ignoring as the man grit his teeth. The old raider squatted down next to him. "Now tell me. Who commands Reddinghall? I know your Lannister Lord is off galavanting about the Running Country."
The man looked at him and frowned, clearly fighting with himself, then sighed. "Lord Callum Lannister, the Blessed child, commands Reddinghall, though he's fallen direly sick." The man shook his head.
"A child commands the keep?" Longshanks asked beside him. "Do Greenlanders do such things?"
"Hah." The man snorted. "He's Lord Tywin's son and Lord Tygett's squire." He grinned toothily, despite his situation. "What you would do to me, Lord Tywin would do to you if you touched even a hair on Lord Callum's head. Or have you Ironborn not heard the Rains of Castamere?"
"Tch…" Longshanks actually frowned beneath his helmet, and Gorman could see why.
In vengeance he might be willing to kill the Lord of the Westerland's son, but in practice? No. Taking Lord Tygett's eyes in battle would be one thing, but harming Lord Tywin's son would be another. He wouldn't have any part in it.
"Say… if Lord Tywin cares about the boy that much." Gorman turned to look at Longshanks, seeing where the younger man's mind was going. "How much gold would he part with for ransom?"
"Not enough to be worth going to war with all the Seven Kingdoms over." Gorman shook his head. "His Father is the Hand of the King, remember."
"He'd never find out who did it. Not if we did it right." Longshanks countered. "We could ransom him through proxies… take him to Essos." The greyjoy grinned. "Think of the Gold… Think of the Legend!" He turned his gaze to the captive. "You man. Tell me everything you can about Reddinghall. You agreed to talk, so talk."
"You Ironborn are savages and fools." The young man said. "Lord Tywin will string your guts from the signposts if you lay a finger on his son's head. But I'm already a coward, so fine… The castle has a large stone keep and a curtain wall on three sides…"
Gorman frowned as the man continued to speak. Longshanks, eagre as ever, looked thrilled as his foolhardy plan came together. This was something altogether more than Gorman wanted to get involved in. A matter for great lords, not their relatives. He supposed if anyone could get away with it, it would be the Greyjoy heir, but even still it seemed foolhardy.
Regardless, Gorman decided that he would take his ships and go home. If Longshanks wanted to risk his life for gold and glory, then let him.
And he had such high hopes for the boy just a minute before!
=======================
If you'd like to support my work, or get early access to chapters before public release you can join my p atreon
Link to join my p treon :
[email protected]/moonlight10