Chapter 320 Assassination
318 Assassination
On the way leading to the great library, surrounding the dome, there were countless rooms densely packed like a honeycomb, and it was already silent arrival of the Ironborn raiders brought a bloody smell here. The heavy plate armor of the Green Land and the ochre-red leather armor commonly used by the Ironborn made shaking sounds. In stark contrast, the sound of iron chains rubbing against each other came from some chain mails with interlocking iron rings.
It was surprising that, given the chaos in the Maester's Tower, not a single apprentice accidentally spilled sparks from their candles on the newly painted floors or cupboards.
The guards around Euron were silent, and with this as the axis, they extended outward like a beam of noise. The other plunderers didn't care about the rules. They had no reason to suppress their emotions after just winning.
The iron gate was half-open, with many bulging domes on the surface of the door. The huge Valyrian Sphinx stone beast was divided into two halves by the two doors, and its ferocious and majestic eyes fell on Euron and his Ironborn plunderers.
"Push it away," Euron ordered.
The looters stepped forward, their strong and powerful arms came into play, the heavy iron door was completely pushed open, and Iron Seed quickly walked in. Suddenly, the empty and spacious library was filled with many tiny gasps.
The huge storage room was like an iron mine cave hollowed out in the Iron Islands, as if huge wealth and resources suddenly appeared in front of the Iron Men.
The looters were clearly unable to contain their excitement, as evidenced by their wide eyes, trembling cheeks, and the axes dangling from their hollow palms.
They did not care about the true value of the books that had been stored in the academy for thousands of years. When they stepped into this seemingly gloomy storage room, the true meaning of conquest had already surpassed what they saw.
The victor's cry once again surrounded and spread beneath the dome.
The Ironborn conquered the Citadel, and ancient salt and iron conquered the rich Green Lands.
"Where are the maesters?" Euron asked, selecting the nearest ironborn.
"Several of those who blocked the way died in the corridor, and most of them should still be running for their lives." said the predator.
"Everywhere around them is blocked. No one can escape unless they turn into sparrows or dragons!"
Euron nodded slightly, his nose twitching slightly. The burnt smell in the air made him feel a little uneasy.
He raised his head, revealing a corner of the soft armor under his coat, covering his neck. Euron grasped the hilt of the sword worn at his waist and looked at the silent darkness around the storage room with a scrutinizing look.
Euron twisted his neck and looked up at the dome building above his head. "Aren't the maesters afraid of the books getting moldy if they put them in a place like this?"
The crowd around immediately started laughing in mockery. The Iron Men stopped in front of the huge bookshelf, looking at the rows of heavy books. Their voices inadvertently became smaller. Many of the Iron Men pursed their lips and held their breath in the face of knowledge.
This was not normal. Euron noticed this. He walked over, took a book from the bookshelf and opened it casually.
"Religious Genealogy: On the Cultural Origins of the Drowned God." Euron read out the title of the book with a smile on his face. He shook the pages of the book, and the light coming through the gaps in the heavy iron door behind him shone on it. Scattered pieces of yellowed paper fell off like fluttering feathers.
The Ironborn were confused and stared at each other, not knowing what their king wanted to do.
Euron took the dagger from his waist, touched the tip of the dagger to the page, and scratched it lightly, and the book suddenly broke.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"
With two or three slashes of the dagger, the heavy book suddenly became a pile of waste paper. "It's just blasphemous garbage!" Euron stepped on it and took off his eye mask, revealing his black pupils that flashed with malice. His voice suddenly rose: "Oldtown is the richest city in Westeros, with a towering tower standing on top of the world. It is also the center of the maesters and the false gods of the Seven Gods!"
Euron held out his dagger, the gleam of its tip breathtaking. "And now! The ancient ways have led us here, to the heart of the Green Lands, to the brightest treasures of Westeros, and even these old maesters in ragged grey have surrendered their treasures to us! Now, in our eyes, they are but waste paper!"
He pushed hard, and the bookshelves fell backwards, layer by layer, shelf by shelf, with a loud rumbling sound.
The sound stopped and the silence was very brief, then the shouts and roars of the Iron Men suddenly filled the storage room.
"You" a trembling voice, just as Euron and the Ironborn looked at the gray-robed maester who was trembling all over at the source of the sound, "These rows of books, ahem! They all have a history of a hundred years, copied by the Citadel. Samsara, and replaced every three years, you. You."
Deep in the collapsed rows of bookshelves, a candle lamp was dimly lit, and an inkstand for copying books stood quietly there. An old scholar in a gray robe with gray hair was leaning on a cane, walking towards Euron step by step.
Euron raised a scornful smile at the corner of his mouth, and the Ironborn beside him looked at the maester who was staggering towards him with a teasing look.
"Old man, are you looking for death?" The Ironborn Plunderer shook his flying axe, narrowed his eyes, and pointed it in the direction of the bachelor.
"I am Master Wargrave, Master of the Citadel. I am respected everywhere in Westeros." The frail maester approached Euron. His body was pitifully thin, and his outstretched arms were like a piece of stick. "I am respected everywhere in Westeros."
The purple curtain covering the thick windows of the dome drooped gently, just like amethyst in a secluded room shining slightly in the dark. Perhaps because there were many people in the storage room, the curtain swayed slightly, but at this moment, it was like the heavy iron door in front of the storage room with a gap of light, frozen in this moment of time.
A piercing sound pierced the air, leaving no one's eardrum unhurt. A ray of light shone through the gray robe of the maester and instantly penetrated into Euron's body.
"Bang!" The sound of metal colliding was like thunder in broad daylight, exploding among the Iron Men.
The dagger missed and Euron staggered back a few steps. His sleeves were torn, and pieces of white silk fluttered in the air, revealing thin black scales.
The scholar's face suddenly changed, countless faces switched one after another, men's faces, women's faces, baby faces, old people's faces.
The guards' spears pierced through the scholar's body.
The bodies were thrown to the ground like rotten fish. The ironborn raiders stared at it all in amazement. It all happened so fast that they had no time to react.
The maester's face finally froze on the face of an ordinary man, with a calm expression, silently watching him attempt to assassinate Euron.
The calmness in facing death is something that only the believers of the Thousand-Faced God can possess, apart from some fearless warriors.
"The Faceless Man." Euron's gaze seemed to fall on the Faceless Man, but it seemed as if he could still penetrate the space at the moment and look at the distant existence.
He took off his coat, revealing a full body of Valyrian steel armor, black as smoke, wrapped around him even to his neck.
Euron touched a dent on the scales and twisted his neck. There was no surprise on his face, as if everything that happened was expected.
"Is this the only way?" Euron did not have the luck to survive the disaster, but instead showed a hint of disappointment.
"Move the books away," Euron turned his head, "and wait for my order to burn the rest."
"Yes!" the Ironborn answered in unison.
(End of this chapter)
318 Assassination
On the way leading to the great library, surrounding the dome, there were countless rooms densely packed like a honeycomb, and it was already silent arrival of the Ironborn raiders brought a bloody smell here. The heavy plate armor of the Green Land and the ochre-red leather armor commonly used by the Ironborn made shaking sounds. In stark contrast, the sound of iron chains rubbing against each other came from some chain mails with interlocking iron rings.
It was surprising that, given the chaos in the Maester's Tower, not a single apprentice accidentally spilled sparks from their candles on the newly painted floors or cupboards.
The guards around Euron were silent, and with this as the axis, they extended outward like a beam of noise. The other plunderers didn't care about the rules. They had no reason to suppress their emotions after just winning.
The iron gate was half-open, with many bulging domes on the surface of the door. The huge Valyrian Sphinx stone beast was divided into two halves by the two doors, and its ferocious and majestic eyes fell on Euron and his Ironborn plunderers.
"Push it away," Euron ordered.
The looters stepped forward, their strong and powerful arms came into play, the heavy iron door was completely pushed open, and Iron Seed quickly walked in. Suddenly, the empty and spacious library was filled with many tiny gasps.
The huge storage room was like an iron mine cave hollowed out in the Iron Islands, as if huge wealth and resources suddenly appeared in front of the Iron Men.
The looters were clearly unable to contain their excitement, as evidenced by their wide eyes, trembling cheeks, and the axes dangling from their hollow palms.
They did not care about the true value of the books that had been stored in the academy for thousands of years. When they stepped into this seemingly gloomy storage room, the true meaning of conquest had already surpassed what they saw.
The victor's cry once again surrounded and spread beneath the dome.
The Ironborn conquered the Citadel, and ancient salt and iron conquered the rich Green Lands.
"Where are the maesters?" Euron asked, selecting the nearest ironborn.
"Several of those who blocked the way died in the corridor, and most of them should still be running for their lives." said the predator.
"Everywhere around them is blocked. No one can escape unless they turn into sparrows or dragons!"
Euron nodded slightly, his nose twitching slightly. The burnt smell in the air made him feel a little uneasy.
He raised his head, revealing a corner of the soft armor under his coat, covering his neck. Euron grasped the hilt of the sword worn at his waist and looked at the silent darkness around the storage room with a scrutinizing look.
Euron twisted his neck and looked up at the dome building above his head. "Aren't the maesters afraid of the books getting moldy if they put them in a place like this?"
The crowd around immediately started laughing in mockery. The Iron Men stopped in front of the huge bookshelf, looking at the rows of heavy books. Their voices inadvertently became smaller. Many of the Iron Men pursed their lips and held their breath in the face of knowledge.
This was not normal. Euron noticed this. He walked over, took a book from the bookshelf and opened it casually.
"Religious Genealogy: On the Cultural Origins of the Drowned God." Euron read out the title of the book with a smile on his face. He shook the pages of the book, and the light coming through the gaps in the heavy iron door behind him shone on it. Scattered pieces of yellowed paper fell off like fluttering feathers.
The Ironborn were confused and stared at each other, not knowing what their king wanted to do.
Euron took the dagger from his waist, touched the tip of the dagger to the page, and scratched it lightly, and the book suddenly broke.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"
With two or three slashes of the dagger, the heavy book suddenly became a pile of waste paper. "It's just blasphemous garbage!" Euron stepped on it and took off his eye mask, revealing his black pupils that flashed with malice. His voice suddenly rose: "Oldtown is the richest city in Westeros, with a towering tower standing on top of the world. It is also the center of the maesters and the false gods of the Seven Gods!"
Euron held out his dagger, the gleam of its tip breathtaking. "And now! The ancient ways have led us here, to the heart of the Green Lands, to the brightest treasures of Westeros, and even these old maesters in ragged grey have surrendered their treasures to us! Now, in our eyes, they are but waste paper!"
He pushed hard, and the bookshelves fell backwards, layer by layer, shelf by shelf, with a loud rumbling sound.
The sound stopped and the silence was very brief, then the shouts and roars of the Iron Men suddenly filled the storage room.
"You" a trembling voice, just as Euron and the Ironborn looked at the gray-robed maester who was trembling all over at the source of the sound, "These rows of books, ahem! They all have a history of a hundred years, copied by the Citadel. Samsara, and replaced every three years, you. You."
Deep in the collapsed rows of bookshelves, a candle lamp was dimly lit, and an inkstand for copying books stood quietly there. An old scholar in a gray robe with gray hair was leaning on a cane, walking towards Euron step by step.
Euron raised a scornful smile at the corner of his mouth, and the Ironborn beside him looked at the maester who was staggering towards him with a teasing look.
"Old man, are you looking for death?" The Ironborn Plunderer shook his flying axe, narrowed his eyes, and pointed it in the direction of the bachelor.
"I am Master Wargrave, Master of the Citadel. I am respected everywhere in Westeros." The frail maester approached Euron. His body was pitifully thin, and his outstretched arms were like a piece of stick. "I am respected everywhere in Westeros."
The purple curtain covering the thick windows of the dome drooped gently, just like amethyst in a secluded room shining slightly in the dark. Perhaps because there were many people in the storage room, the curtain swayed slightly, but at this moment, it was like the heavy iron door in front of the storage room with a gap of light, frozen in this moment of time.
A piercing sound pierced the air, leaving no one's eardrum unhurt. A ray of light shone through the gray robe of the maester and instantly penetrated into Euron's body.
"Bang!" The sound of metal colliding was like thunder in broad daylight, exploding among the Iron Men.
The dagger missed and Euron staggered back a few steps. His sleeves were torn, and pieces of white silk fluttered in the air, revealing thin black scales.
The scholar's face suddenly changed, countless faces switched one after another, men's faces, women's faces, baby faces, old people's faces.
The guards' spears pierced through the scholar's body.
The bodies were thrown to the ground like rotten fish. The ironborn raiders stared at it all in amazement. It all happened so fast that they had no time to react.
The maester's face finally froze on the face of an ordinary man, with a calm expression, silently watching him attempt to assassinate Euron.
The calmness in facing death is something that only the believers of the Thousand-Faced God can possess, apart from some fearless warriors.
"The Faceless Man." Euron's gaze seemed to fall on the Faceless Man, but it seemed as if he could still penetrate the space at the moment and look at the distant existence.
He took off his coat, revealing a full body of Valyrian steel armor, black as smoke, wrapped around him even to his neck.
Euron touched a dent on the scales and twisted his neck. There was no surprise on his face, as if everything that happened was expected.
"Is this the only way?" Euron did not have the luck to survive the disaster, but instead showed a hint of disappointment.
"Move the books away," Euron turned his head, "and wait for my order to burn the rest."
"Yes!" the Ironborn answered in unison.
(End of this chapter)
