Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 184 The Fall of Fair Isle

“I forgive you.”

“Crow's Eye” Euron laughed wantonly, “Quiet, you can live a long time.”

Ser Sefton Farman himself sat in his usual position on the high platform, glaring at the despicable Ironborn who had seized his hall.

The Ironborn actually sat grandly on the high platform of Faircastle!

“Lord~ Try this~” A pretty girl of sixteen or seventeen sat in Crow's Eye Euron's arms, her breasts full, her feet bare, her clothes disheveled, giggling as she handed grapes to Crow's Eye's mouth, as if enjoying it.

Seeing this scene, Ser Sefton Farman was even more angry, and at the same time could not help but feel sad.

Mya Stone, a mere bastard girl! I have treated you well on weekdays, but now you are so shameless, with a face full of flattery! The Farman family has raised you for so many years, but you don't have any nostalgia?!

Hateful Ironborn! My Faircastle…

I should have informed Lord Tywin long ago! Ser Sefton Farman couldn't help but deeply regret his arrogance and stupidity.

There were six days, six days.

Ser Sefton Farman closed his eyes in pain, immersed in regretful memories.

Six days ago in the afternoon, five longships of the Ironborn attacked from the sea to the west, and the watchtower on the west coast of Fair Isle quickly lit the beacon fire.

The Ironborn have taken action!

But Ser Sefton Farman did not send a raven to his liege lord for help, but only reported this potentially useful news.

The reason is simple, only five ships.

The offshore area of Fair Isle is very flat, and the Ironborn's longships have nowhere to hide, and can be seen clearly by the watchtowers on the high ground.

Ser Sefton Farman then knew his enemy.

The largest ship was dark red, with black sails, and a golden kraken as its sigil.

Ser Sefton Farman knew it, Euron Greyjoy's bloody “Silence”. It had a great reputation, but at most it could only carry one or two hundred warriors.

The other four longships were smaller and less powerful.

One was hanging the drowned corpse sigil of House Sandly, and the other was the red sun black ship flag of House Farwynd.

The last two ships were the flags of House Codd and another unfamiliar house.

Five ships, three to five hundred people, a pitiful number.

Ser Sefton Farman felt that his own defensive fleet could completely deal with these Ironborn.

As the largest island in the Westerlands, the Farman family's fleet was already quite considerable. The flagship was a large sailing ship that could carry hundreds of people, as well as five rowing warships and ten longships.

Could they not defeat five longships?

Because of this confident self-assurance, and because he didn't want to easily disturb the stern Lord Tywin, making people look down on him for no reason, making the relationship between the two families even more indifferent.

Ser Sefton Farman did not ask for help.

But he was wrong.

Although the number of Ironborn did not exceed his estimate, the speed of these longships was unpredictable, as if blessed by the wind and waves, always able to accelerate away the moment the Fair Isle fleet was about to catch up.

Back and forth, everyone understood that the longships were teasing them, but there was nothing they could do, and they could only try to catch up.

The result was regrettable.

Until the sun set and the light dimmed to disappearance, the longships were still galloping arbitrarily on the sea outside the island.

At this time, Ser Sefton Farman made another decision that he regretted: he ordered the fleet to return to port to avoid accidents during night battles.

This was a conservative and prudent decision.

The port was a strategic location that the Farman family had operated for many years. The longships could not sneak in under surveillance, and the catapults and crossbows on the shore would not be indifferent.

The fleet was very safe here.

The crew members were able to rest peacefully for the night, recover their energy, and discuss tactics for the next day.

As for the Ironborn's longships, they either stayed on the sea that was prone to storms, spending the night vigilantly, or rashly landed, taking the risk of being attacked.

But the Ironborn's longships actually sailed to the depths of the sea further west!

Were they crazy?

Sailing at night greatly increased the chance of ships sinking, not to mention going to an unknown route. Who knew where the reefs were and where the dead sea was?

Ser Sefton Farman secretly prayed, hoping that all five longships would sink to the bottom of the cold sea, with no survivors.

But early the next morning, he was awakened by the loud horns in the castle, and the servant rushed to report: the longships appeared on the sea outside the castle!

Ser Sefton Farman could hardly believe it.

Faircastle was located on the east coast of the island, didn't the Ironborn go west?

He rushed to the tower to look out, and they were really there!

Fortunately, his own fleet was also coming to support, and the Ironborn turned their bows and sailed south.

In just half a day, news came from the nearest coastal fishing village in the south that the Ironborn had landed and were frantically torturing the villagers.

Ser Sefton Farman sent out soldiers.

They returned at night, all of them, but they did not bring back any spoils. The Ironborn ran very fast, and even faster on the longships.

The following days were similar, with villages and towns constantly reporting bad news.

Ser Sefton Farman had no choice but to continue sending soldiers to drive them away, but the only effect was to make the Ironborn abandon the already destroyed villages and go to wreak havoc on the next place.

How could these guys always discover the soldiers' actions in advance and avoid being surrounded?

Ser Sefton Farman couldn't figure out the answer.

But until then, he only felt that the enemy was a bit slippery and difficult to catch, and did not think that he had met a deadly enemy.

Unfortunately, he was wrong again.

Just last night, Ser Sefton Farman worried as usual for a while, and had just fallen asleep in bed when disaster struck.

Thunderous roars came from the port a mile away to the north, followed by huge flapping and collision sounds, the sound of wood breaking, the wailing and terrified shouts of living people, and the sound of horns that had just sounded and then disappeared abruptly.

Ser Sefton Farman ran to the window in a daze, the outside was a heavy darkness, and almost nothing could be seen.

Until the fire ignited for some reason.

He finally saw it.

The port had turned into a bloody and sinful hell of terror, and what formed and caused this hell was…

Ser Sefton Farman sighed deeply in his heart.

Gods, why let such monsters get even more evil and hideous demons?

Fair Isle should not suffer such a disaster.

Gods…

Ser Sefton Farman suddenly opened his eyes. Since these monsters are real, then the legends about His Grace the King may not be rumors!

That's right, it must be so!

A flame gradually ignited in Ser Sefton Farman's eyes, and he seemed to have become an stubborn fanatic, unwavering in his faith.

“Crow's Eye!”

Ser Sefton Farman scolded firmly.

“Your end is coming! His Grace the King's power is countless times stronger than your kraken! Wait, you won't live long, after being judged, you will forever suffer endless torment in hell!”

Crow's Eye narrowed his eyes, “Which king?”

Ser Sefton Farman snorted coldly, “Naturally His Grace Joffrey!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the hundreds of Ironborn who were laughing wantonly in the hall suddenly fell silent and looked at King Euron on the high platform.

It was Joffrey who forced them to flee the Iron Islands.

Crow's Eye smiled softly.

“Shut his mouth. The next game will be more fun.”

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