Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 102: Theon's Screaming Arrows

Theon was very proud of his archery skills.

Ever since Winterfell, his bow and arrows had been the most skillful and proficient of anyone's; if he said he would shoot a copper coin, he would only hit the center of the seven-pointed star on the coin.

The heads in front of him were nothing more than slow-moving targets, and he hit each one with precision.

Nocking a screaming arrow, he aimed at the eye socket of a head and shot, shouting, "Silence! Fall back!" Then, he nocked another arrow, shot another noisy head, and activated the command token again, "Silence! Fall back!" His voice was loud and clear, repeating the cycle.

Theon felt he could repeat this until all the hundreds of arrows in his quiver were used up.

Even three or five more quivers would be welcome.

One, five, ten, the figures Theon aimed at became farther and farther away, quieter and quieter, and the final expressions frozen on their faces became more and more distorted.

It wasn't until he shot down someone who was about to turn and run that Theon slowly put away his longbow.

The crowd below had retreated dozens or even hundreds of steps away, each with their mouths tightly shut, no longer daring to utter a single word.

Theon smiled hatefully. They were truly a bunch of lowly bastards who wouldn't listen until they saw blood.

Previously, he had captured four or five thousand people, and in the cleanup after the chaos in Flea Bottom, he had caught several thousand more. Now, there were only a few thousand people left below, almost fewer than the surrounding soldiers.

If a fight really broke out, Theon was confident he could chop off all their heads within half an hour.

Jon stepped forward, "Theon, that's enough. They are calm enough and I believe won't do anything foolish again."

What the King wanted was not just rotting, stinking heads, but more soldiers and more labor.

Theon shrugged. "I think so too. Jon, we've finished our work. Lord Tyrion, it's your turn to step up."

Tyrion reached out his hand. "His Majesty is truly partial, to have such a treasure that can make a sound like thunder, tsk tsk."

Jon knowingly handed over his command token.

The flat dragon crystal, polished into an oval shape, immediately gave Tyrion a familiar magical feeling as soon as he held it.

So that's how it's used. Tyrion quickly understood.

He silently communicated with the information magic within the dragon crystal, activating it and using it to trigger the hidden sound rune energy to record external sounds.

"I am Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin. Everyone immediately drop your weapons, squat down in place, accept supervision, and obey the will of the gods and His Majesty. The crimes you have committed today can still be forgiven."

Tyrion raised the dragon crystal, activated the information magic within it, and triggered the response of the sound magic energy. A loud voice was then transmitted from the dragon crystal.

The crowd woke up a little from their dazed confusion.

All around were bright steel and soldiers, and serious and resolute orders echoed constantly in the air. The long arrows stuck in the corpses in front of them were still glaring.

Who would have thought that the Gold Cloaks would be so ruthless? They had only gathered to say a few words, and they actually started killing!

Many people couldn't understand what they had encountered today.

Why bother? How much benefit could be gained from Flea Bottom with so much effort? Just for these rotten houses, for everyone who had nothing, even those who were missing arms and legs?

Flea Bottom had never been so valued. They were the most invisible cockroaches and rats in King's Landing, and everyone would only avoid them from afar in disgust.

They had thought that today would be similar. The Gold Cloaks would do their job perfunctorily, Flea Bottom would slightly display its filth and filth, dispel the gazes of all the upper-class people who did not belong here, and then everyone would quietly continue to live.

But everything seemed to be completely changing.

Friars and nuns kept preaching doctrines and divine will, crystal balls demanded answers from everyone, and the Gold Cloaks detained everyone who was penniless, saying it was for everyone's good.

Fortunately, someone ran out of the Gold Cloaks' encirclement and reminded everyone of the tragedies where the Gold Cloaks had gone.

So everyone united and drove away the mere dozens of Gold Cloaks at various alleys and intersections.

What followed should have been very simple. Everyone gathered together to resist, took up all the weapons that could boost their morale, and the Gold Cloaks would not risk doing anything more.

But everything really changed.

The Gold Cloaks did not retreat, but rushed over in groups of twenty or thirty, their swords and spears bright and sharp.

Everyone was more fragile than they had imagined.

No one was stupid enough to be willing to block a knife for others, but instead cleverly fled in all directions where there were no Gold Cloaks, trying to shake off everyone behind them.

Everyone quickly scattered completely, and no one knew where anyone was, only themselves.

Later, the Gold Cloaks drove everyone into a pile again, like herding livestock. When they stood there, everyone consciously avoided that position, and finally gathered together somehow.

People pushed people, people squeezed people, and no one knew where everyone was going, just kept walking.

Finally, there were Gold Cloaks all around, and there was no direction to escape.

For some reason, someone started cursing, like a spark in a haystack, immediately igniting everyone's anger.

Someone began to shout, "Long live King Robert!"

Ah, those were such good times. The silver stags thrown down by the nobles at the tournament were enough for dozens of partners to have a full meal for a day, and skilled people could also get a lot of rewards from the audience.

Now it's different. The Gold Cloaks patrol the city non-stop, and prime ministers and regents have taken office one after another, but there hasn't even been a tournament!

Someone began to curse the Gold Cloaks. These guys really deserved to be cursed. It was okay for them to bully everyone usually, but now they even wanted to cut off everyone's last way out. They simply didn't deserve to be human!

Some people even whispered curses against King Joffrey. That rumor that not many people believed in the first place now seemed more like the truth.

At least everyone was more willing to believe it.

If Renly was the legitimate king, he probably wouldn't deliberately make things difficult for everyone in Flea Bottom, right?

From the incessant shouts, everyone raised their arms, fists, and weapons, like an unstoppable torrent. The Gold Cloaks in front looked so small, as if they would break with a single poke.

But all of this ended in thunderous shouts and whistling arrows.

The people standing at the front were the first to decide to run back, but the people behind hadn't reacted yet. This was the time for the Gold Cloak officer's evil archery game, until everyone retreated together to the center of the encirclement, away from the roaring bows and arrows.

At this time, looking at the Gold Cloaks again, each sword and each spear was so sharp and bright. How could human flesh compete with these steels?

*Clang clang~*

A dagger was thrown onto the open space in front, and the sound of it rolling on the stone slab was so obvious, making people's hearts sink, and then suddenly feel relieved.

A large, indistinguishable sound occurred almost simultaneously, and everyone put down everything in their hands.

"…Squat down in place, accept supervision, and obey the will of the gods and His Majesty. The crimes you have committed today can still be forgiven." The instructions in the air were still echoing non-stop.

One by one, people lowered themselves, the crowd followed in a panic, and soon there was no one standing straight on their legs.

The Gold Cloaks walked over in groups.

Everyone quietly watched others and themselves being tightly tied up, their mouths stuffed with hard pieces of wood, and even black hoods were put on.

Everyone inevitably felt fear. How would they be dealt with? What would happen to Flea Bottom?

Everything was in the hands of the Gold Cloaks' swords.

And the King at the highest point.

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