Subjugating the Game of Thrones

Chapter 8 Drowned Man（2）

The sun hung high in the sky, its rays scorching, but the sea breeze brought a refreshing coolness that eased the heat. Renly, trembling with the aftermath of his ordeal, stood in the shallows, where the three Drowned Men, their faces lit with joy, embraced him and kissed his cheeks in a show of camaraderie. They handed him coarse linen clothes, and as he turned to follow an old man in tattered black leather, barefoot and wearing roughspun shorts, the fervent chants of the ritual faded into the distance.

This gave him a moment to take in his surroundings. The curved beach at the edge of the island was bustling with activity under the sun's golden embrace. Soldiers in leather armor moved about, some pacing, others fishing with tridents in the shallow waters, and still others gathered in clusters, chatting animatedly.

The sea wind was pleasant, and as Renly passed by, a short soldier with brown hair and black eyes raised a wooden cup in his direction and bellowed, "You've proven your devotion, Hal of White Gull Village, you've passed the test!" The three men sitting with him echoed the gesture, and a chorus of agreement rose from the crowd.

Renly glanced at them, shivering, but the old man leading him did not pause. So, he said nothing and hurried along after him. More enthusiastic soldiers greeted him, some calling out his name, others offering loud blessings. As he walked, Renly remained silent, observing this unfamiliar environment.

It was clear that the ironborn soldiers stationed on the beach were generally warm and welcoming. They did not seem fake, and neither did the island beneath his feet. The soft sand was comfortable under his steps, the cool sea breeze played with a strand of brown hair on his forehead, and a blob of bird droppings fell from the sky above, landing with a squelch...

He looked at the white-green mess on his shoulder, the smell indescribable. And so, Renly was certain once more that this was a real place, not an illusion or a dream.

"If I were to run to Storm's End now, what would I find? An unconscious boy? Or..." he pondered. But he knew it was a difficult task, for the Iron Islands were in the far western seas of Westeros, while Storm's End was on the eastern coastline of the continent.

Moreover, he was now a brown-haired ironborn youth, not the black-haired third son of House Baratheon, and he would never be allowed into the castles of the nobility.

More importantly, it seemed he was not here to idle away his time.

Frowning, he thought about the three lines of text he had seen during the drowning ritual, and Renly had a moment of realization.

He had likely been reborn with some sort of body-swapping "system" that allowed him to learn various kinds of knowledge, digitize them, and once his level rose high enough, the learned knowledge could evolve into traits.

Encountering a special medium triggered the true purpose of this "system" – body swapping, to complete tasks...

But there was no medium in that dream to trigger it, was there?

And could there really be such a nonsensical thing?

Feeling the rough face, different from a child's, Renly frowned.

...

The old man led him in silence to the back of the camp, where he collected a set of gear – a padded white undershirt, an old black leather jacket that reached his waist, a round half-helm with an ugly nasal guard, a pair of brown hard cowhide boots slightly eaten by insects, a brown wood shortbow, and a heavy quiver wrapped in a long belt.

He was finally brought to a small group under a coconut tree on the left side of the beach camp. Before anyone could introduce him, a blond teenage soldier leaning against the tree stood up abruptly.

"Hal! Thank the Drowned God, I thought you wouldn't make it!"

Clearly, this young man was an acquaintance of Renly's current persona. But with no memories inherited, Renly knew nothing of this.

"You've proven your devotion," another old soldier with messy black hair said solemnly, nodding at him, but then he raised a leather wine bag in his hand.

"So your life belongs to the sea from now on, that's what the Drowned Men say."

This gesture made the old man who had been leading Renly glare.

"Lord Lucas forbids us from drinking during the day, Pies!"

"I'm not drinking," the old soldier named Pies replied blankly, then pointed to his open mouth, showing a set of sticky yellow teeth.

"Don't believe me? Smell for yourself?"

The guide just gave him a stern look before turning and leaving, leaving Renly standing alone in front of this small team.

In addition to the old soldier Pies and the blond teenager, there were two more people here: an ordinary-looking middle-aged man with black hair squatting in the shadow of the coconut tree, cooking a pot of thick fish soup in an iron helmet, and a younger, thin man examining Renly and his bow and arrows with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Can you use it, kid?"

"Of course!" the blond teenager who had greeted him first said before Renly could open his mouth, pulling Renly to his side and pointing at the people around him, "Let me introduce you, this is Cullen, he's great with a bow. This is Cook Lyon, from the Red Crab Village next to ours, and you've heard of this old drunk, he's..."

This was a hastily assembled squad of soldiers.

Renly, listening and observing in silence, soon understood this.

Although everyone seemed to know each other well, this familiarity was only skin deep.

"I'm glad you made it, Sea Pig** didn't make it. If you had died too, I'd have to kill the Oak Islanders myself. They'd never accept the iron I paid, especially not without anyone to help me. But now it's alright..."

After introducing his companions, the blond teenager with freckles on his nose did not stop talking but continued to babble on with some idle chatter.

His name was Juspie, and although Renly had not asked, he learned this from the words of others.

He also learned more.

For example, he is now called Hal, and this Juspie is from the same village called White Gull Village. For example, the island under his feet is called Old Wyk Island, and the king they serve is named Rhodes, who claims kingship by the faith of the Drowned God and has the collective support of the Drowned Men priests.

And himself, this squad, and a few other small squads will set sail for another island called Oak Island tomorrow morning to fight for this king of Drowned Men.

Renly fell into deep thought.

Although heraldry mainly studies the general history and outstanding figures of the lord's family, he inevitably comes into contact with some other knowledge during the teaching period.

So he understood that Old Wyk and Oak Island are actually two of the Iron Islands, so he could understand the drowning ceremony of the iron people and the general process, so he clenched the dentures and quickly determined the situation he faced.

However, what puzzled him was why the iron soldiers on Old Wyk Island here would fight with another group of iron soldiers on Oak Island?

The iron people rarely fight with their own people, and there were almost no wars after the Targaryen dynasty was established. Renly felt something was wrong when he learned about it.

Not to mention that he had heard the old scholar say that the current King of Iron, Cor* Greyjoy, was cautious and sensible, and his rule over the territory was very stable, and there could be no civil unrest.

With doubts in his heart, and he didn't understand the role he was playing, so no matter what the young Juspie or other companions said to him, he just sat there nodding or responding with um-um, never speaking.

Because being drowned is also a life-threatening crisis, it is normal to be stimulated to some extent, and no one found his silence strange.

And soon after, his doubts were quietly solved by a group of people's chat, and Renly unconsciously opened his mouth wide.

"Tell you what, it's better that Hall's black-hearted was burned to death by the Dragon King, he never thought about our lives and only built his stone castle in the east. Now look, the stone helmet can't stop the Dragon King's spittle."

The speaker was the old drunkard Pies, who grinned as he spoke, his missing front tooth particularly eye-catching.

"My uncle was there at the time, and it's said that the black-hearted old king peed his pants before he was burned to death."

The cook Lyon's fish soup was ready, and he was now serving everyone a bowl with a wooden spoon, glancing at the old drunkard with doubt.

"Are you sure? The whole castle was on fire at the time, and the black-hearted family was burned to death by the dragon. If your uncle was really in it, how could he still be alive?"

"I don't know that." The old drunkard brazenly boasted, "But I guess our family has dragon blood from Dragonstone Island, have you heard that saying? Real dragons are not afraid of fire..."

Renly didn't listen carefully after that, but fell into a state of astonishment.

In ancient times, there were seven kingdoms on the continent of Westeros.

The Kingdom of