Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 59 A Bloody Establishment of Authority

Tiberius scribbled a few names on the parchment with a quill.

"Vito, old Tom, and Calvin. Take a few trustworthy men and bring these foremen and overseers to me!" Tiberius said, his back to the veterans, looking out at the training ground.

His Lightning Legion soldiers were there at that moment training in assassination and drill, learning how to use spears and crossbows.

"Remember, not just them; their wives, all the men in their families over sixteen, and their 'thugs.' I want them alive, don't kill them!"

He paused, then tapped the parchment on the table lightly with his fingers, saying, "Confiscate all their money, food, property, deeds... anything of value! Then distribute the funds as follows: the White Legion gets 60% through the public account, the Lightning Legion gets 30% through the public account, and the remaining 10%..."

Tiberius glanced at Vito and the others' faces, his expression relaxing slightly, and said:

"...The remaining ten percent, you guys share it with your men, consider it hard-earned money, let the guys' pockets be bulging. But I need to be quick!"

The next morning, the atmosphere on the training ground was unusually heavy. Tiberius did not conduct any routine drills, but instead gathered the entire "Lightning Brigade" together. He held a specially made blunt-bladed longsword—more like a heavy iron rod with some sharp edges than a longsword.

He stood on the wooden platform, his face ashen, his cold eyes sweeping over every soldier below.

"I know," his voice wasn't loud, but it pierced everyone's ears like ice. "There have been some rumors circulating in the camp lately. Rumors about the food your families were given on Sunday, and those few copper coins, which were taken away by certain people the next day with various 'legitimate' reasons."

"I've sorted everything out... 'Offerings,' 'protection fees,' 'management'... What a clever way to disguise these things! If I didn't know better, I'd think my soldiers were migrant farmers tilling the land, or small-time merchants seeking protection from the city's underworld!"

He paused, and the audience fell into a deathly silence. Many soldiers instinctively lowered their heads, unable to meet Tiberius's eyes.

He paused, his cold eyes sweeping across every face below the stage like a hawk's: "I've heard about these things. But I remember repeatedly emphasizing a rule to you all: when your superiors ask you questions, you must answer honestly! Why? Because on the battlefield, the information you provide, no matter how small, can be the basis for my judgment of the situation and for deciding your life or death!"

"Since you've forgotten, then you must be punished. Tonight, there will be no food—everyone! Including me!" He looked at the faces below the stage, which had turned deathly pale, his tone resolute. "Because in my army, if a soldier makes a mistake, the sergeant is responsible! If the sergeant makes a mistake, I hold the captain accountable! If the captain makes a mistake, then I, Tiberius Mode, have made a mistake! Unfortunately, you have all made mistakes, which means my training of you is far from sufficient! Because on a real battlefield, whoever makes a mistake dies!"

"It's better to go hungry than to have your guts ripped out by the Valantis' spears, your heads smashed by battle axes, and your bodies trampled into a pulp by super-heavy cavalry!"

Just as the atmosphere of despair and oppression reached its peak, Tiberius suddenly changed his tone, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority, and he straightened his posture.

"But! I have one ironclad military rule here, and you all listen carefully—what belongs to my soldiers can only belong to my soldiers! Anyone who dares to extend their claws will have their claws, along with their head, chopped to pieces!"

He whirled around and roared at the audience, "Vito!"

"Here!" Vito responded with a sinister grin.

"Bring those 'managers,' along with their wives and sons, all of them, here!"

Vito and his several menacing veterans dragged a dozen pale-faced, limp men and women onto the wooden platform like dead dogs. They were the foremen, supervisors, and their families who had been withholding money and rations from the military dependents.

Tiberius raised his heavy, blunt-bladed longsword with a clang, the blade reflecting a cold, merciless light in the sunlight. Pointing to a thick wooden platform prepared beforehand, he ordered Vito, "Nail that fattest, greediest fellow to that platform! I want to execute him myself!"

Under the horrified gaze of everyone, Vito personally wielded the hammer, nailing the obese overseer's limbs firmly to the wooden plank with long nails. A piercing scream tore through the sky, and blood gushed from his wounds onto the plank.

Tiberius then stepped forward and swung his longsword—which, while not capable of cleanly cutting, was powerful enough to inflict terrifying blunt damage—in front of the Lightning Legion.

He started hitting the overseer in the waist, who was constantly groaning, again and again, with all his might!

Then came his back! His neck! And finally, the obese overseer's head!

Tiberius smashed the overseer's head like a broken tile, sending most of his skull flying off the platform.

The muffled thuds of bones shattering, the splattering of blood and flesh, and the inhuman screams assaulted everyone's senses.

Then, the next one, and the next one after that... including their wives and children.

Brain matter and blood mixed with excrement and urine flowed freely on the wooden platform, creating a horrific mess.

Tiberius mechanically swung his blunt sword for half an hour straight, until his arm was sore and numb, he was almost completely exhausted, and his face was pale from overexertion.

With his final blow, Tiberius's blunt sword failed to shatter the overseer's head, leaving only a dent.

Tiberius only stopped when only thirty or so barely recognizable human bodies remained on the wooden platform, leaning on his sword and breathing heavily. He was covered in blood and bits of flesh.

He raised his head, his still-cold eyes looking at the silent soldiers below, many of whom trembled. His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, yet carried an undeniable power:

"Tomorrow will be an exception. I will distribute three weeks' worth of food rations and your salaries all at once... Your families will come to me in person and receive the supplies from the men I have appointed, led by Commander Jules!"

He took a breath and emphasized, "But! Remember, this is a special case! Only this once!"

He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies: "Now, first team! Come up here and throw this trash...out at the gate of the military camp! Don't worry about whether they're alive or dead. If they're lucky enough to survive, crawling back is something else!"

That night, in Tiberius's tent.

Vito tossed Tiberius a bottle of pungent medicinal wine, looked at his swollen, purple arm, grinned, and said in a complicated tone:

"Kid...you're even more ruthless than Jules was back then...tsk! When he executed that knight who missed the battle because he was sleeping in his mistress's bed, he only used a clean and tidy gallows...your move will probably give those bastards nightmares for years to come."

Tiberius didn't speak, but silently rubbed his almost numb arm with the medicinal wine.

Tiberius did indeed feel nauseous, but he was certain of one thing.

From this day forward, this army belongs entirely to him, Tiberius Mode.

"Oh, right, Vito," Tiberius suddenly remembered something and quickly asked.

"My uncle's side..."

"Ha!" Vito grinned, revealing a smile.

"What, you only remembered this is your uncle's estate after you've finished the work, and these stewards are also your uncle's property?"

"But don't worry, Chief Jules only said one sentence."

"What did you say?"

"Well done, but don't forget to sell off their remaining family members, or it will cause trouble!"

"I understand." Tiberius's voice returned to calm. "I'll leave this matter to you, Vito. Tell that slave trader from the Hein family to handle it. I don't care whether it's the Garden of Desire or the mines in the Controversial Lands, as long as they're sold."

Vito nodded: "Don't worry, I'll give that dealer a few gold coins and make sure they never find their way back to Ries."