Aemond's words caused an uproar in the hall.
"What?!" "Strip him of his lands?!" "How can this be!"
The sound of chairs scraping across the floor, boots stomping on stone, and gusts of cold air all mingled together. All the lords of the Westerlands stood and looked at the Regent in disbelief.
Lord Lafford's expression changed. He had assumed Aemond would punish Lord Reyne—perhaps a heavy fine, perhaps imprisonment. But he had not expected this: stripping of lands. Complete stripping. From lord to commoner. Castamere, a city with silver and gold mines, a city of untold wealth, now belonged to the Targaryens. This meant that House Reyne, a family that had existed in the Westerlands for over a thousand years—a family even older than the Lannisters—had in a single night become commoners. This was disgrace, and it was destruction. It could ruin an aristocratic family.
Reyne's face went from deathly pale to ashen. Lord Reyne jumped to his feet, pointed at Aemond, his voice trembling. "You! You cannot do this!"
Aemond looked at him; a faint smile played on his lips. "Why? Your words carry no weight?"
Reyne's eyes reddened. He forgot his fear, forgot his pleas for mercy, forgot who stood before him. He only knew that this Regent was destroying his family. He was destroying the family legacy passed down for generations. He was destroying the future of his descendants.
"You!" Reyne roared in fury. "You are a kinslayer! You killed your own aunt! How dare you sit in judgment over me?!"
Dead silence fell over the hall.
Hal moved. He stood beside Aemond, but when Reyne spoke the word "kinslayer," he sprang forward like a cheetah. He struck Reyne in the face with a dull thud; blood and teeth flew in all directions. The second blow landed on Reyne's temple; everything went dark. The third blow struck the bridge of his nose; blood gushed like a fountain. Then Hal stopped and stepped back.
Reyne lay prostrate on the ground; his face was covered in blood, his nose crushed, his mouth split, one eye swollen shut.
Hal looked at him coldly and addressed the knight guarding him. "Strip him. He is no longer a noble."
The knights stepped forward and pulled Reyne to his feet. His cloak was torn off, his coat ripped, his belt removed; his jewels scattered on the floor. He stood in the center of the hall, dressed only in a white shirt, covered in blood, utterly disheveled.
Reyne finally broke down, struggling and shouting. "Aemond! You are a kinslayer! You are going against the entire Seven Kingdoms! You have broken the rules of the Targaryens and the lords of the realm! For more than a hundred years, no king has ever treated his vassals like this! You will regret this! Everyone will consider you their enemy! You will die a terrible death!"
Then the knights struck him hard in the face until he fell silent.
But Aemond remained unmoved. He sat in his chair, watching Reyne struggle like a dead dog being dragged away, then spoke in a calm voice.
"Reyne withdrew his troops without authorization, nearly ruining the entire war. Now he is arrogant and rebellious, insulting his liege lord. What is his crime?"
Alyn, the squire sitting beside him, shouted, "He should be beheaded!"
Silence fell over the hall. The lords of the West exchanged bewildered glances.
Alyn spoke again. "But Reyne has already been stripped of his noble status, so he is not subject to beheading. He should be executed as a commoner."
Aemond nodded. "Then hang him. Hang him on the walls of Harrenhal until his bones are picked clean. A warning to the Seven Kingdoms."
Reyne's eyes widened in shock. Hanging? Only commoners were hanged. He was Reyne. He was the lord of Castamere. He was the Red Lion. He was the second most powerful man in the Westerlands. Hanged? Like a thief? Like a murderer?
He struggled even more fiercely; neither of the two knights could hold him.
"You cannot do this! You cannot! My family has been loyal to the Iron Throne for many years! You cannot treat me like this!"
Aemond looked at him; there was no pity in his eyes, no hesitation.
"Take him away."
Reyne was dragged off. His cries faded into the distance, then vanished entirely from the hall.
Silence fell over the hall. The lords of the Westerlands sat in their chairs—some bowed their heads, some looked at the table. No one spoke, no one moved.
Lafford sat, his fingers gripping the chair's armrests tightly. He hated Reyne and wanted to kill him with his own hands. But watching him being dragged away like a dog, he felt a strange stirring. It was not pity—it was fear. A family that had existed for a thousand years—gone, just like that, suddenly? A lord hanged like that? The fief gone, the title gone, the family gone.
Lafford looked up at Aemond. The young Regent sat in his chair, one hand on Blackfyre, his face expressionless. What exactly did this Regent want to do?
"Regent," Lafford involuntarily stood; his voice was somewhat hoarse. "Reyne is certainly guilty. But to strip him of his lands and reduce him to a commoner... is that not too severe a punishment? House Reyne has existed for over a thousand years..."
Aemond looked at him, saying nothing.
The other lords also stood. "Yes, Regent." "Reyne deserves punishment, but not like this." "There are rules..." "Lord Reyne is guilty, Your Grace; you may execute him, but his family is innocent..."
The voices grew louder. They pleaded for Reyne, but deep down, each knew they were pleading for themselves. If Reyne's lands were taken today, would it be their turn tomorrow? If Reyne was hanged today, would it be their turn tomorrow?
Aemond listened to their words, his face remaining expressionless. He only spoke when they had all finished.
"Are you finished?"
Silence fell over the hall.
Aemond rose; his silver hair gleamed coldly in the morning sun. "You talk about rules." His voice was very soft.
"What are rules?"
No one uttered a word.
Aemond's voice grew colder and colder. "The rules you speak of say that no matter how grave the crime, if a family is old enough and rich enough, they can escape punishment?"
Silence filled the hall.
Aemond smiled and continued. "Fifty percent of Castamere's wealth will be given to the Westerlands soldiers who participated in the battle at Gods Eye Lake. The remaining fifty percent will be allocated to the Crown."
A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Castamere's wealth was astronomical. House Reyne had held lands in the Westerlands for over a thousand years, amassing riches second only to the Lannisters.
Lord Lafford silently watched Regent Aemond. He had killed Reyne, seized his lands, plundered his wealth, and was now using that wealth to buy off the remaining lords.
At that moment, Aemond had already stood and walked to the castle window. Outside, on the walls of Harrenhal, Reyne was being hanged. The rope was around his neck, and his body was pushed down with a dull thud. His body swayed in the morning wind like a ragdoll.
"Do you think I broke the rules?" Aemond suddenly asked the crowd, looking at the hanged Reyne without turning around.
But no one dared answer.
He drew back the curtain, turned, and looked at the lords. Sunlight streamed from the side of the window, dividing the faces of all present into light and shadow.
"What rules?" He smiled, but it was a faint, cold smile. "The strong make the rules; the weak follow them."
He smiled and continued. "I am telling you now: the old days are over. I will establish a new order."
He looked at the lords; his gaze swept across each of their faces. All these men lowered their heads, not daring to look at him.
"Reyne is a clear example. I will not tolerate a rotten sheep."
Lord Lafford looked up at Aemond. The young Regent stood by the window, backlit, so his expression could not be seen. But his eyes shone—they shone even in the darkness.
Suddenly, Lafford saw something. In those violet eyes, another pair of pupils appeared. One violet, one red; the pupils overlapped each other like two mirrors reflecting each other.
Lafford stopped breathing. The other lords saw it too. A low gasp of surprise rippled through the hall.
Aemond's silver hair fluttered in the gentle breeze coming through the window behind him, his mismatched eyes coldly watching everyone.
"Listen to me carefully. I am the true dragon... None of you are..."