Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 103 Ironwind Island and Coburn

Euron made a request to his father, King Coron, that surprised him: Euron decided to leave the main castle of Pike and no longer live on the same island as his parents, but move to another remote island only an hour's flight away from Pike.

The official reason was quite plausible: he needed a quieter space to study and think, and to oversee the brewing process and the emerging ironworks.

But only a very few knew the deeper reason: the red priestess under his spell, and the shadowbinder whose face was forever hidden in the shadows, were increasingly proficient in their magic, a process accompanied by unpredictable whispers, strange lights, and even more bizarre phenomena. If these sights were to occur in the densely populated city of Pyke, they would easily incite unwarranted fear and unrest among the ignorant Ironborn.

That isolated island would become their undisturbed haven of shadow. Euron named this island Ironwind Isle!

This isolated island, belonging to Euron, stands menacingly in the frigid sea, like the abandoned Healing Tooth of the gods. It is surrounded by towering, scaly reefs, these black boulders resembling the sterns of lurking sea monsters, appearing and disappearing in the waves, ready to tear apart any ship that dares to approach with their sharp edges.

What's even more daunting is that this sea area seems to be cursed by eternal gales. The fierce sea winds howl incessantly all year round, whipping up towering waves that crash wildly against the reefs, roaring like thunder, and tossing any ship that tries to pass through like a toy.

Even the local fishermen most familiar with these waters will deliberately avoid them, keeping their distance from this labyrinth of death. They speak of terrifying legends about the place, regarding it as a graveyard for sailors.

However, the complex routes and harsh weather that are insurmountable obstacles for ordinary people are the perfect natural barrier for Euron Greyjoy.

The Grey Sea King blood flowing through his veins gave him an extraordinary and mysterious connection with the sea. The howling winds were not merely noise to him, but rather directional information that would help his ship reach its destination faster; the undercurrents were not chaotic and disorderly, but rather clearly discernible paths. The dense fog and storms that could drown other captains could neither disorient him nor cause him any trouble.

This daunting sea was, to him, nothing more than a familiar courtyard and corridor on his way home, the outer wall of his strongest and most private fortress, a natural defense.

After moving into his new home, Euron Greyjoy's daily life developed a peculiar and disciplined rhythm.

Every day at dawn, before the gray sea fog has been completely dispelled by the morning light, Euron would board his silent little boat, with his maid Lisa always quietly following behind. The two of them would skillfully row the boat toward the main castle of Pyke.

The icy seawater lapped against the hull, as if it were the prelude to their daily political agenda.

In that hall built of massive stones, he had to deal with the complex affairs of the Iron Islands with his father, King Coron, and his brother, Balon, from the friction between the island lords to the diplomatic maneuvering with the Seven Kingdoms, and have breakfast with his mother, brother, nephews, and other blood relatives.

But when the political affairs were temporarily settled, that was when Euron truly lived for himself. He would go straight to the training grounds, where Dothraki coach Vittorio Gray would always be waiting.

The trials of time and relentless training have long since increased Euron's strength to a level far beyond that of his peers, and the agile swordsmanship he once acquired from the Braavos water dancers has gradually become insufficient for him.

On the contrary, the Dothraki fighting style taught by Vittorio—a blend of the wildness of the steppe, the fiery and violent attacks, and the unpredictable and unpredictable rhythm—was more suited to Euron's growing brute strength and the wildness deep within his heart.

More importantly, Euron was determined to conquer another crucial skill—horse handling.

When it comes to understanding and mastering the great creatures of the world, no nation can surpass the Dothraki.

They were people of the horse, their lives almost intertwined with their steeds. Euron's mount, Faruru, needed a true master with whom he could achieve a true "man-horse unity." Therefore, Vittorio Grey was not only his instructor in ground combat but also his only bridge to mastering horsemanship. In the salty sea breeze and swirling dust, Euron diligently learned how to communicate with his warhorse, how to use its momentum to deliver a fatal blow—all to gain the upper hand on the upcoming, wider battlefield.

After lunch, the shimmering sea became somewhat dazzling. Euron would walk alone to the shore, untie the ropes of his small, light boat, and without a word, his maid Lisa would follow. The oars cut through the calm water, carrying them away from the hustle and bustle of Pike City, back to his solitary island.

The island resembles a black fang rising abruptly from the sea, and the abandoned ghost tower standing in the heart of the island is the sharpest tip of that fang.

Legend has it that ancient vengeful spirits dwell here, but Euron only feels contempt for them—he even welcomes the appearance of any ghost, which serves as a source of nourishment for his unspeakable "Soul-Soul Fruit" power, originating from the deep sea. Moreover, he is always accompanied by two figures: one is Gwendolyn, a priestess clad in a deep red robe and a believer in the Lord of Light, whose very presence is like a scorching flame; the other is Evelyn, the Shadowbinder, shrouded in shadow all day, her face obscured. Any true ghost would likely avoid these two like the plague.

The Ghost Tower has been thoroughly cleared, shedding years of dust and cobwebs, yet it still exudes a cold, empty feeling. The four-story tower now houses only ten people, making every footstep echo clearly and lonely against the stone walls.

The ten were: Master Euron, Secretary Lisa, Red Priestess Gwendolyn, Shadowbinder Evelyn, the loyal but terrifying guard "Ripple" Dagmo, Dagmo's young son Lloyd, Dagmo's silent and resilient Rock Wife, and his two Salt Concubines. The last was the newly joined Maester Qyburn, whose face was always pale.

Dagmore practically moved his entire family to serve him. His rock wives and salt concubines took care of all the chores in the tower—washing clothes, cooking, cleaning—maintaining a rough yet orderly vitality in this cold stone tower. His son, Lloyd, took on all the heavy work requiring physical strength: chopping wood, repairing, and carrying goods. Here, no one was superfluous.

The newly joined students, especially those with undergraduate degrees, are simply asking for trouble.

Amidst the somber atmosphere of the Citadel and the pungent aroma of countless herbs, Maester Coburn's path of inquiry quietly veered into a shadowy realm no one dared to tread. Initially captivated by the pure, life-saving brilliance of medicine, his obsession with unraveling its mysteries led him unwittingly into a perilous abyss—a terrifying realm that combined traditional medicine with forbidden blood magic and even more ancient dark rituals. This research required fresh bodies, even those "materials" teetering on the brink of life and death, still clinging to life.

However, Cobain was essentially a scholar with no physical strength. The remaining conscience within him prevented him from harming the innocent, and murder was simply beyond his capabilities. All he could do was search for unclaimed remains in the dead of night, like a vulture scavenging for carrion. These were extremely difficult to find, and the materials often did not meet the requirements of his experiments.

When news of the impending war between Greenwood Island and the Iron Islands reached the Citadel, Qyburn struggled with a painful conflict between fear and desire. Ultimately, his insatiable thirst for knowledge overcame everything. He gritted his teeth and, risking great danger, crossed the ocean to infiltrate the island destined for war, death, and sorrow.

On the night the war began, as he dragged a relatively "fresh" soldier's body, trying to hide it in a sack, the torchlight suddenly blazed, illuminating his pale, terrified face. Several patrolling Iron People soldiers caught him red-handed, and blades were instantly placed against his slender neck.

He was roughly brought before Euron Greyjoy. To Qyburn's surprise, the Ironborn leader, known for his ruthlessness, after a brief interrogation, did not immediately execute him; instead, his eyes gleamed with a playful interest, as if he were seeing a rare treasure. Euron sighed: he didn't know many maesters by name, and Qyburn was one of the most familiar, yet here he was, delivered right to his doorstep.

This is fate! He is destined to be my slave—no, my student!

"A man who dares to dig for the truth amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood is perhaps more useful than ten ordinary scholars." Euron's voice was devoid of emotion, yet it sealed Qyburn's fate. He spared Qyburn's life.

Of course, this "mercy" was not without reward. Qyburn quickly realized that his life no longer belonged to himself, but entirely to Euron Greyjoy. He had to repay this mercy with all his knowledge, his forbidden research, and everything he had. A bond stronger than chains now tightly bound him to the shadows of the Iron Islands. But when he saw the Red Priestess and the Shadowbinders, Qyburn realized that even becoming their slave wasn't such a big deal.

As night falls and the island falls silent, accompanied only by the roar of the waves and the howling wind, those "researches" that cannot be told to outsiders are quietly carried out in the dim lighthouse or deep sea cave. The occasional ominous red light or distorted shadows that spill out from there are isolated by the boundless sound of the waves.