Lord Adrian Redwyne's body shook violently. His teeth ground together so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth—he had actually shattered a tooth. The extreme humiliation and rage were suffocating him, but he pressed his lips into a tight, white line, refusing to speak a single word, only glaring at Quellon with eyes burning with hatred.
At that moment, Euron Greyjoy, standing to the side, let out a soft chuckle. The sound was relaxed and cheerful, jarringly out of place in the brutal atmosphere.
"However, Father," he said as if making casual conversation, "we pulled up the vines, but the land is still there. After we leave, come next spring, new shoots might sprout again. The earth is the most patient thing in the world." He rubbed his chin, as if seriously considering a technical problem. "I heard that if you want to solve this problem permanently, the best way is to sow the fields with salt. That way, nothing will ever grow here again, and House Redwyne really will have nothing but the 'Sea as its Border,' haha!"
"You demon! You animal! You will die screaming!" Lord Adrian shrieked as if stabbed by a poisoned needle. He struggled violently, unleashing a torrent of heart-wrenching curses, nearly breaking free from the Ironborn warriors holding him.
Salting the earth—that was the most vicious, total scorched-earth tactic imaginable! It meant permanent ruin!
Euron simply waved his hand, his smile unchanged, as if he had just told a harmless joke. "Just kidding. Don't get excited, Lord Adrian. Look how scared you are." His tone was light. "I won't salt your lands. Even though it would be simpler, more thorough, and solve the problem once and for all."
His tone shifted, becoming subtle and layered. "Because, even though you hijacked the grain from our merchant ships... you didn't kill our crew. You held the line of decency in war. So, the Iron Islands will return that 'mercy' to you."
Lord Adrian seemed to grasp at a straw, screaming passionately, "It wasn't hijacking! It was the Ki—"
"Shhh—" Euron suddenly pressed a finger to his lips, making a silencing gesture. A mocking, chilling smile played on his face. "Let's not talk about the King anymore, my dear Earl."
He slowly pulled a small scroll of parchment from his tunic and waved it in front of Adrian's eyes.
"Just yesterday," Euron's voice suddenly adopted the exaggerated, pompous tone of a court herald. He toyed with the official-looking document in his fingers. "King's Landing issued a decree to the entire Seven Kingdoms. Every corner of the realm should have heard it by now."
He cleared his throat, as if reading a Privy Council resolution: "The document states in black and white: 'Investigation reveals that Ser Harlan Grandison of the Kingsguard and Lord Adrian Redwyne of the Arbor colluded with treasonous intent. Ser Harlan Grandison further transported extremely dangerous wildfire to Starfish Town without authorization, for unknown and nefarious purposes.'"
He paused, glancing at Adrian's instantly pale face, and continued reading in a sorrowful, ironic tone:
"'Regrettably, due to severe mishandling during transport, a massive explosion occurred en route, resulting in... their unfortunate demise. Truly, a tragic loss that commands our deepest sympathies.'"
At the end, he shook his head exaggeratedly and clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What a... sudden tragedy. Who could have predicted it?"
Lord Adrian's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking in shock and rage. He struggled, choking out sounds from his throat. "C-Clearly! The truth is clearly—"
"Yes, yes, my dear Earl, I hear you," Euron interrupted quickly, his smile deepening, playful yet predatory—like a teacher guiding a child, or a viper toying with its prey. "You didn't collude with him. Those jars of green nightmare were a 'generous gift' from the good King on the Iron Throne. And you, out of your laughable 'chivalry' and inexplicable 'honor,' rejected him with righteous indignation. Not only that, you ordered his noble White Cloak to take his explosive 'gift'—hot enough to blow half of Starfish Town into the sky—and get the hell out of your territory immediately. Am I right?"
Euron's voice was like fine sandpaper, grinding against Adrian's already frayed nerves. He leaned forward slightly, his mismatched eyes shining with piercing insight, and asked a devastating question: "Now, tell me, Lord Adrian... do you feel, even a tiny sliver of... regret?"
"Are you thinking, in that brain filled with anger, uncontrollably: If only I had accepted the wildfire... If only I had used it on the battlefield, against the Iron Fleet... The green flames would have devoured the Ironborn longships! Maybe history would have been rewritten?"
He seemed to read Adrian's thoughts directly. But just as Adrian was about to go mad from the torture of that 'what if,' Euron's tone suddenly turned cold and realistic.
"But let me tell you an interesting fact," he said slowly. "When the King's messenger arrived at your castle with that 'gift' for your unpleasant meeting, my men had already infiltrated every corner of this island like mercury. We were right here in your Starfish Town."
His voice dropped lower, carrying a terrifying certainty.
"If you had actually been possessed by demons and accepted that wildfire, storing it in some warehouse at the port..." Euron's mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Then the war might indeed have ended early—before you ever had the chance to light a single fuse. All it would have taken was a tiny 'mishandling,' perhaps a well-placed fire arrow? Then, the green flames roaring into the sky wouldn't have swallowed the sea water of the Whispering Sound. They would have swallowed your entire Starfish Town! Along with every soldier, every civilian, your castle—everything. This place would be nothing but a massive, smoking crater."
Euron leaned in extremely close, whispering like a devil sharing a secret. "So you see, my dear Earl, looking at the result... your seemingly foolish and stubborn 'refusal' accidentally saved Starfish Town. It saved the lives of thousands of people."
"That earth-shattering green firework show, which should have wiped your home off the map, ended up only blowing the unlucky Ser Harlan Grandison and his loyal guards... sky-high, out in the middle of nowhere."
"Now," Euron straightened up, returning to his lazy tone as if discussing the weather, "do you still think your persistence was worthless?"
Euron spread his hands in a concluding gesture. "Because you refused to use wildfire out of justice and stubbornness." His tone hovered between praise and mockery. "So, when one of my subordinates suggested we follow the most traditional Ironborn way—kill everyone in Starfish Town, burn it down, and wipe it out completely—" He paused, his gaze like a cold probe piercing straight into Adrian's hollow, despairing eyes. "...I also refused."
This sentence, spoken lightly, hit with the force of a hammer, shattering the last bit of pride and resistance holding Adrian Redwyne together.
The civilians wouldn't be killed. They wouldn't die because of his poor command or lost war. The last bit of strength supporting Adrian Redwyne's body seemed to drain away instantly. He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, only held up by the Ironborn warriors gripping his arms.
"Thank you!" It was the only rejoice amidst ashen despair.
"No need," Euron looked down at his utterly broken opponent. There was no triumph on his face, only an almost indifferent calm. He continued, his voice steady but carrying the unquestionable weight of law. "In the square of Starfish Town, before all the survivors, I publicly promised: those who surrender will not be killed." His words echoed clearly in the air. "This promise does not come from weak pity, nor from any respect for you personally."
Euron's tone hardened, every word solid as sea-stone. "This promise is an oath sworn on the ancient blood of the Grey King and the honor of House Greyjoy. It concerns the credibility of the King of the Iron Islands, which outweighs the life, death, or anger of any individual here."
Seeing that Adrian Redwyne had completely submitted, King Quellon leaned forward slightly, emphasizing a basic but unbreakable principle. "The war between us is over. Slaughtering prisoners who have laid down their arms and pose no threat is the act of cowards and fools. It stains the victory and the honor of the oath-taker. Likewise, I expect you to behave. Do not cause trouble. Do not force us to do things we do not wish to do. We will pay the Iron Price, and then leave quietly. Agreed?"
Lord Adrian Redwyne nodded. He was already limp.