Chapter 101: Execution!

The great hall was filled with tension, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. Damian stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding and resolute.

"Our immediate concern is to deal with these priests," Damian continued. "Their attempt on my life was not just an attack on me, but on the stability of our rule. They sought to incite rebellion, and for that, they must be made an example of."

His men nodded, their faces set with grim determination. Dacey slammed her fist on the table. "Beheading will be too merciful for them. They should suffer for their treachery."

Jory, still visibly shaken by his perceived failure, spoke up. "I should have been there to protect you, my lord. This will not happen again."

Jory was ashamed that he let this happen as he was responsible for maintaining security on Pyke.

Damian placed a reassuring hand on Jory's shoulder. "You are not to blame, Jory. They were cunning and well-prepared. But we have turned their cunning against them. Ace's warning gave us the edge we needed."

Damian said, half-truths slipping easily from his lips. Ace did tell him about suspicious men following him and then going ahead and setting up the ambush. But Damian had not called for reinforcements; he had summoned the reserve soldiers from his space pocket. No need to tell them that. Anyway, there were plenty of squads composed only of his loyal summoned soldiers to take the claim, so no one would actually know who had helped him.

So he omitted the details of his summoned soldiers, knowing it was a secret best kept. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. "As for torture there's no need for it, Dacey. We will hold a public execution. Their deaths will serve as a warning to any who think to follow in their footsteps."

The council agreed, and preparations were made for the execution.

As the meeting concluded, Damian's mind wandered to other pressing matters. 'I should really summon more people and fill my quota of 10,000 men as the Lord of the Iron Islands,' he thought. 'But I can't squander my current wealth to fill them, plus they will need proper backgrounds so no one gets suspicious about where they came from. It would be ideal if I could get hold of a place where no one knows if it was inhabited, a secluded mountain or, preferably, an unknown island. I could probably turn that place into my summoning village.'

He pondered this problem, knowing that finding such a place in Westeros was nearly impossible. Most lands were inhabited, and the possibility of discovering an uncharted island nearby seemed slim.

"Wait! What about that place?" Damian suddenly remembered the islands of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya, a small grouping of islands in the Sunset Sea discovered two centuries ago by someone he forgot his or her name. These islands were the most westerly lands ever discovered in the known world, even farther west than Lonely Light.

A plan began to form in his mind. These remote islands, isolated and uncharted for centuries, could serve as the perfect location for his summoning village. Far from prying eyes, he could build and train his forces without fear of discovery. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that this was the solution he had been seeking.

As Damian pondered when to begin his new venture, the priests were dragged to the execution site, their cries echoing in the courtyard. The people of Pyke gathered, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity. Damian addressed them, his voice carrying over the crowd.

"These men sought to disrupt our peace and stability. They conspired to kill me and incite rebellion. For their treason, they shall pay the ultimate price." The audience that had gathered on the grounds started murmuring.

The Starks had a tradition: the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. In that spirit, Damian unsheathed his bronze sword and stood behind the priests.

"Any last words?" Damian asked.

"Curse you, heathen. The Drowned God shall avenge us. You will rot in the depths of the sea hell forev—" One of the priests cursed angrily, stopping mid-sentence as the sword passed through his neck, beheading him.

Seeing the head of his companion roll away, one of the priests tried to run but was tripped by Selena, who stood nearby. He was brought back to his place, kicked in the back of his knees, making him fall, but he still struggled hard as the guards held him tightly.

"Please, please, have mercy, my lord. I won't do it again. Please!" he begged.

Damian's expression remained cold and unyielding. "You showed no mercy when you plotted against me. Now, you will face the consequences of your actions."

One by one, the priests of the Drowned God were beheaded by Damian without mercy. Each strike of the sword was swift and decisive, sending a clear message to all who watched: treason would not be tolerated.

As the last priest fell, the courtyard fell silent, the gravity of the moment sinking in. Damian turned to the gathered crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all. Peace and stability are paramount for the prosperity of the Iron Islands. Any threat to our unity will be met with swift and just retribution."

The people of Pyke slowly dispersed after the beheading. The ground was cleaned of the headless bodies, and the heads were placed on spikes next to the gates for all to see, a stark reminder of the consequences of treason.

Damian approached Jory, his trusted lieutenant, and issued a stern command. "Keep an eye on the priests here in Pyke. Ensure they don't make any moves. Apprehend them immediately if they try to incite rebellion or stir unrest."

Jory nodded, his face set with determination. "Yes, my lord. I will ensure they are watched closely and dealt with swiftly if necessary."

Satisfied with Jory's commitment, Damian gave a curt nod and asked every one to get back to their business.