The emperor would be pleased with him as of this day. Of his first force of fifteen warships, it had only taken three to take the so called 'Ironborn' by storm on the island. The greatbows has fired great explosives into the walls of the fortress and broken through, just as he planned. The large crossbows on the walls had not been foreseen though, and they had taken the lives of not only several men and lockjaws, but poor Dezoma, one of his favourite fighters. He may have lost his beloved were it not for the explosive.
Two of the owner's sons were dead now, as one died in the explosion and the other was devoured by Sunbite. The lord of the 'castle' himself had taken his guards and fought valiantly against Neshtaka's forces. The two fought personally before Neshtaka triumphed, knocking him down. Now he and his remaining son were tied up before him. A lockjaw snarled at the son, who whimpered. This was certainly a catch.
Before he'd been sent east, the ministry insisted he learn some of the 'Common Tongue' of the easterners as they'd acquired from occasional contacts over the years. Neshtaka himself was of the 'wolfsblood', and so he had acquired the Gift from those ancient people. Perhaps these people knew more about them?
"Do you know of...the wolfmen?" He spoke in the tongue these 'Westerosi' spoke with. They were clearly surprised he could speak some of their own.
"Uh, wolfmen?" They seemed confused. The lord stood up in his cage, but one of the lockjaws growled and he went down again. "Ah! The Starks! Yes, they rule the North. You know of them how?"
Neshtaka squinted in. "A thousand years ago, Stark led the wolfmen from across the sea. Some settled with us willingly, but others were harsher, tried to enslave us, losing all civilisation. In the end, the Wolfmen lost, but some of them continued in us."
He now turned to the son. "You can see, can't you?" He bent down. "From the beasts. I know look in your eyes." Neshtaka remembered when he was a young man and his wife and young son called out to protect them from a bronze scaled monster with golden eyes. The beast was much larger than any lockjaw, and had scales instead of fur. He found the gift in himself and calmed the beast before it could kill. More than that, his mind became one with it. Now he and Sunbite were as inseparable as mother and child.
The young man nodded. "Y-yes. I see through the eyes of a spotted whale!" Neshtaka didn't know what creature he spoke of. "They're fast, clever things in the sea, covered in spots. Not dangerous to us but are to everything else."
"Aah." Neshtaka said. "That is your word for them. Whale. I like it!" He turned around, and Sunbite, having finished his meal came forward, his mouth still bloody. "You are my first conquests of Westeros proper, and I wish know more about lands east. This was but a sample of what is to come." The lord and son began to weep as they saw the blood on Sunbite's mouth. Neshtaka understood, for the lord had lost his son. He had almost lost his own once, but his was a little boy, innocent of the world, while Farwynd's sons had chosen to fight to the end.
"You are Farwynd, are you?" Neshtaka asked in the common tongue.
"Y-yes." The older man came out. "Lord Farwynd of Lonely Light, serving the rightful king of the Ironborn, Balon Greyjoy! Not Baratheon on his Iron Throne, and certainly not you!" He continued to weep after this. It seemed that to the east, his ruler wished to rule independently of the so called 'Iron Throne'. Perhaps this was an empire to rival Chiqotex, or just one of many tribes.
Neshtaka looked to the side. The pyre was almost ready. The locals who died in battle had their hearts cut out and placed on a great alter, a bowl even. Neshtaka knew not the ways of the priesthood, for he did not concern himself with spiritual matters. Indeed, they shunned him for the 'Gift', bought by those who had come to Brantazem and slaughtered their ancestors and forced themselves on the land. He knew they saw him and his cousin as an abomination, but they could not touch him, for his cousin was the empress, and her son heir to all of Choqitex.
"How many days east till we reach the other islands?" It had taken months for the ships to sail all the way here even in optimal conditions, and there had been losses no doubt. He wanted to make sure that less would perish before they even got the chance to rule.
The boy who's name he thought was Yohn spoke. "It is eight days to the south-east for Great Wyk. I don't know if you have the ships to take them, but after that, you have Fair Isle, and Seagard on the mainland, and-"
"I see," Neshtaka noted. "This fleet indeed heads straight east, but the other, larger fleet took a more southern route. I only presume they are going directly to the mainland?" He crouched down, and this time, the father spoke.
"So your larger fleet goes for the Reach and Arbor? They are far larger and richer than these islands would ever be. Vast fields, strong vines, hot enough weather for your plants to grow. Why not attack them first and foremost?"
Neshtaka laughed. "We are, even if not knowingly. I am leading this fleet for now, because it is the furthest west of your lands. My blood contains the blood of the Wolf, and I wish to journey to where they first came from, even if I die trying.
"Your sons didn't die cowering behind trees, if it is any comfort." Truth be told, there were hardly any trees here anyway. "They earned a warrior's death, and so regardless of their lack of faith, their hearts will be judged fairly by Lord Sharoq in the next life."
The son protested now. "They were not godless men, heathen! They died for the Drowned God, and for the Ironborn people! You would not deserve such things, only far worse!"
This Neshtaka took offence to. "I've captured your men in ships, interrogated soldiers and sailors for years left to sea. We burn the hearts of those who fought against us valiantly so they find redemption in the next world. Cowards are gutted alive so their blood feeds the land, so at least the earth may gain something from them." He sighed. "But we take those who have fought and been bested. You drown your defenceless captives and innocents who had no chance against you, no respect for your enemy! You steal women from their husbands who still live and make them your property. You loot and rape and pillage even when you have every chance to grow your own food, or trade with your neighbours. You have no right to lecture us on morality!"
One of the Plains-riders' commanders, Flying-Crusher came to speak. "Admiral, the others have been tied up, and we have occupied the island's ships. Shall we sail east to Great Wyk immediately?" He was a shorter man, but broad-shouldered and very muscled, just like the namesake beast that swept in the Empire's northern borders, covered in red tattoos. "I await the next journey."
"Not quite yet, rider. The lord and his son need to take part next." Neshtaka turned back to Farwynd. "Well, it seems we have more use of you before we visit the east." He turned to the guards. "Open the cage." They did as told and escorted the prisoners out. Neshtaka wanted to teach the heathens something before they would be sent their separate ways. He knew in his heart that Lord Farwynd could not survive the day, but it would be dishonourable just to cut him down now. His son Yohn, who had the Gift, would be of use as a local ruler and tactician.
Taking them some distance to the old bay, Neshtaka put the two in front of a small army and a crusher, serving as heavy guard. They were afraid of it, almost as much as of Sunbite. He knew what was custom for those that surrendered.
"Yohn Farwynd, you from this day shall rule this island and it's neighbours, and your gift will be put to use," he proclaimed. His own men cheered, but the surviving Ironborn protested. The current lord looked up, accepting of his fate. "As for you, Lord Gylbert, you have a choice. Death by your own blade, death by combat or serve as our envoy for life. It's your decision now."
After what felt like half an age of pondering, Gylbert finally accepted his fate. "I...I will be your envoy to Westeros."