Chapter 99: Taking Control of Tyrosh
Tyrosh, the Purple Palace, Spiral Staircase
"Kill! For freedom!"
At this moment, the Purple Palace had fallen into complete chaos. Seeing that the slave masters' power had waned, the slaves rose up in direct revolt.
Although the Tyroshi nobles had been desperately suppressing the slaves during this time, their numbers were simply too great. Even though the Tyroshi recognized the danger, they had never truly prepared for it.
In their arrogance, they had never considered that sheep might resist. In their eyes, slaves were no different from livestock. Years of high-pressure rule had made these Tyroshi forget that even sheep can be driven to fury.
"Don't kill me, don't kill me..."
In a corner, several slaves bound together by chains suddenly surrounded a fat old man dressed in fine robes. This man, unwilling to part with his wealth, had been ordering the slaves to carry his belongings.
Just moments ago, after the riot broke out downstairs, these slaves took the opportunity to kill all the guards around the old man.
Now, with everyone else dead, the slaves turned their gazes toward him. These slaves, both men and women, had mostly suffered abuse at his hands.
"Respected master, let us serve you well!"
A dark-skinned slave from the Summer Isles looked at the old man with a sinister expression. Seeing the fat body trembling incessantly, the slave felt a surge of intense excitement.
During countless previous nights, he had fantasized many times about how he would kill this man. He never expected that today, it would finally come true.
Squelch...
"Ah..."
As the longsword pierced him, the old man let out a scream like a slaughtered pig. Having lived a life of luxury for years, he had never experienced such soul-piercing pain.
"Don't kill me, I can give you... ugh, ah..."
Despite the unbearable pain, the old man still tried to appease the rebelling slaves. Unfortunately, before he could finish his sentence, more longswords and daggers were thrust into his body.
"Sancho, what should we do now?"
After killing the slave master, the slaves looked somewhat bewildered toward the Summer Islander who had just spoken.
Hearing his companions' words, the man seemed to snap back from his thoughts.
"Those attacking the Purple Palace seem to be the Chainbreakers. They claim they will eliminate all slave masters and free all slaves. Let's go find them!"
Bang...
Just then, the door to the luxurious room was kicked open. Immediately after, countless slaves with red cloth wrapped around their arms rushed in.
Many of them were still half-naked; some held weapons, while others wore mismatched pieces of armor, some of which still had flesh and blood clinging to them.
It looked as though this equipment had just been stripped from its original owners. A few slaves were so thin that as they walked, the gear swayed back and forth like iron bells.
"Hey, brothers, are you alright?"
Seeing the scene in the room, the leader of the slave fighters who had just rushed in offered words of reassurance.
"We have joined the Chainbreakers. Prince Jon Snow will lead us to liberate more of our enslaved brothers. Brothers, cast off your chains and join us! Let us deliver the final judgment upon these damned Tyroshi!"
"Alright, brother!"
Hearing the squad leader's words, Sancho shouted back with excitement. The confusion he felt after killing his master had completely vanished; now, he seemed to have found a purpose worth fighting for.
As the allied forces continued to pour in, the entire Purple Palace had completely fallen. At this moment, Jon was making his way up the stairs of the Purple Palace.
Although there were wooden lifts available, Jon did not use them, since the upper levels were still under enemy control.
Along the way, countless mercenaries and freed slaves looked at him with fanatical eyes. In their sight, Jon had already become a god-like figure.
Whether it was Jon charging into the enemy's castle alone or walking unscathed through roaring flames, an indelible mark had been left in everyone's hearts.
"Prince!"
"Fire-Breaker!"
"Hero!"
...Various titles began to spread among the slaves and mercenaries. Whether in the Common Tongue or Valyrian, these people praised Jon in their own ways.
The four guards—Ferro, Samwell, Pippin, and Merrick—protected Jon in a square formation, while the standard-bearer Garo followed closely behind, carrying his banner.
At this moment, Jon had no time to clean the blood and grime from his body. Although the continuous fighting had left him exhausted, it was not yet time to rest. Only when his wolf-dragon banner flew from the top of the Purple Palace would everything truly be finished.
Though fighting still broke out along the way, the Tyroshi defenders were already at the end of their strength. Sometimes Jon did not even need to act; a single burst of flame magic from his followers was enough to make enemies collapse to their knees and beg for mercy.
Due to poor discipline, some mercenaries and even freed slaves had begun looting and committing atrocities. Whenever Jon encountered such people, he cut them down without hesitation.
However, in areas he did not pass through, he could do nothing.
Nevertheless, his Chainbreaker units had already begun guarding the gates of the Purple Palace.
Those who were not greedy were allowed to leave, but those driven by insatiable greed were detained. Jon had discussed these matters with the leaders of the allied forces long before the assault on Tyrosh.
For now, he could only allow this chaotic situation to run its course. As long as the palace itself was not set ablaze, everything else would have to be tolerated—for the moment.
Fortunately, Narses and the others, who had entered earlier, had already gathered a group of loyal freedmen, and Jon had sent them in as well.
This group was specifically tasked with collecting gold, silver, and valuables, as well as organizing the freed slaves. While they could not control everything, as long as some order remained, the Purple Palace would stay secure for the time being.
"My lord! My lord!"
Just as Jon cut down a few mercenaries who were preparing to start a fire, a voice suddenly came from his right.
Jon turned and saw a thin man from the Summer Isles shouting at him. He motioned for Ferro and the others to let him pass.
This man was Sanen, who had just slain his master. Behind him followed a large group of freed slaves—it was clear he held some influence among them.
"Is something the matter, brother?"
To calm the agitated man, Jon spoke in a steady voice, though his blood-stained appearance made him seem anything but gentle.
"My... my lord! Some people are killing and committing atrocities—they are even targeting our own people. Can you send some men to help us?"
Seeing Jon, the man was clearly afraid, his voice trembling as he spoke. The aura surrounding Jon was overwhelming.
Some Tyroshi had once gathered troops to attack him, but upon facing him, they lost all will to fight and fell to their knees in terror.
"What is your name, brother?"
"My name is Sanen..."
Hearing the request, Jon did not answer immediately, but instead asked this question.
"Very well, Sanen. The situation is chaotic, but many of our brothers outside the city are still fighting. I must reach the top and tear down the enemy's purple banner. Most of my men have already been sent out."
As Jon spoke, he gestured behind him to the small group that barely formed a full squad.
"However, if you and your people are willing to assist me, I will assign a few fire mages to aid you."
"Ma... mages?!"
Sanen was so shocked he could barely speak.
He had once been a prince in the Summer Isles. After losing a war among his own people, he had been sold into slavery here. Because of his status, the Tyroshi had separated him from his kin.
"Sanen, I hope you will not disappoint me. There are many more who will need your help in the future."
"Yes, my lord!"
Watching Jon depart, Sanen shouted loudly. Soon after, two cloaked figures stepped forward to stand beside him.
Thud, thud, thud...
Pushed open by Ferro and the others, the doors to the grand hall slowly creaked apart. Garo, the standard-bearer, climbed toward the dome at the center.
Whoosh... Bang!
As the purple banner of Tyrosh fell from the high tower, Jon strode forward and sat upon the seat of the Archon.
"Long live—!"
Though seated high within the palace, the cheers of the entire city reached his ears.
Tyrosh was only the beginning.
One day, Jon would bring both the Free Cities and the lands of Westeros under his rule, becoming a king whose dominion spanned east and west alike.
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