Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 104 After the War

Outside the window, the moonlight cast its cold glow on the calm sea, as if the bloody feast of the past was just an illusion.

On the table, a slightly yellowed parchment was unfolded, next to a bottle of dark purple ink—said to be made from the ink sac of some deep-sea squid mixed with wine, and the writing with it had a strange fragrance.

He had promised Lannister Port that he would write to his fiancée, Ashara, but hadn't been able to until now, when things had quieted down. Euron Greyjoy picked up his pen, the nib pausing briefly in the air before falling. His handwriting was elegant and sharp, perfectly reflecting his personality.

To Ashara:

The sea breeze once again swept through the towers of Pike Place, but it always reminded me of a different kind of chill than Lannister Harbor.

Since we last parted, these days have been busy, but I often think of the glimmer in your eyes when you looked at books. I promised to write to you, but war broke out suddenly, and shipping routes became complicated. Only today have I had a moment of peace to put my promise into words.

You've probably heard about what happened at Qingting Island. I didn't want to stir up this storm, but with the ironclad warships already deployed, there's no turning back. Baron led the fleet to meet the attack head-on, while I was ordered to infiltrate the inner harbor to deal with the wildfires that shouldn't have been there in Qingting. When the flames ignited, the sea was ablaze with blood and steel; though I didn't want to see it, I had no choice.

We did not harm civilians, nor did we burn the city. We only took away some winemakers and their skills—perhaps one day in the future, you and I will be able to drink the fine wine that originated in Qingting but was born in the Iron Islands.

War is not my wish, but as Greyjoy, I have no choice but to fight for the honor of my family and the Iron Islands. The saltiness of the sea will eventually wash away the smell of blood and fire, but one thought in my heart will remain clear as ever: on the day we parted, you wished me a safe voyage.

Now that the storm has passed, I only hope that the warm sea breeze, like a star falling from the sky, will still guide you with my greetings.

Looking forward to your reply.

—Euron Greyjoy, written during a night mooring at Pike Town.

He put down his pen, not rushing to seal it. His eyes swept over the words on the letter again, confirming the grammar was correct. Finally, he took out a small piece of wax, melted it in the candlelight, and dripped it onto the rolled-up letter. The seal pressed down—it was the Golden Kraken of the Greyjoy family.

Within the deep halls of Casterly Rock, the golden stone swallowed any extraneous echoes, leaving only the clear crackling of burning wood in the fireplace. Lord Tywin Lannister sat behind his massive lion-headed desk, like another lion sculpted from gold. Between his pale fingers lay a document, delivered by the ravens of the Citadel, bearing a grey wax seal.

He read with unusual slowness, each word as if weighed on a cold scale. After a long while, he gently placed the roll of parchment on the smooth tabletop, the deep sound breaking the silence.

"The Citadel named that battle the 'Battle of Greenwood Island.'" He began, his tone as calm as if stating a routine matter, but his next words caused the air to freeze. "Euron Greyjoy, the courageous and resourceful son of Coron, whom you have met."

He didn't offer much praise, but that brief comment from him was a rare sign of approval for an outsider. He waved his hand, and the attendants presented the documents to his children one by one.

Cersei Lannister took it first. She quickly scanned the descriptions of naval battles, wildfires, and schemes, her golden eyebrows arching in disdain, as if she had caught a whiff of something unpleasant. "Just a pirate raid," she tossed the document aside dismissively, her voice like shards of ice clashing. "Setting fires in the fog, taking hostages—that's the barbaric trickery of the Ironborn, utterly dishonorable. House Greyjoy will always be bandits of the sea."

Jaime Lannister then picked up the document. He read faster, his gaze lingering on the sentences describing the details of the battlefield. When he read about Euron personally leading the assault on the city walls to capture Lord Adrian Redwyn, a hint of genuine admiration crept into his signature languid smile.

"Honor? He's not a knight." He chuckled softly, a sound that resonated with warriors. "Besides, this is war!"

His courage in penetrating behind Qingting Island and charging up the city wall to capture the enemy commander when outnumbered was no joke. This guy's audacity is worth an entire fleet." As he handed over the document, the image of that fierce battle still lingered in his eyes.

Finally, it was Tyrion Lannister's turn. He held the document, reading the slowest and most carefully. His small eyes gleamed with an unusually bright light as his gaze swept over the passages about the advance planning, infiltration, and the attack on the city amidst the chaos following the wildfire explosion. He savored each word as if it were the finest Dornish wine.

"Courage? Jaime, that's just his most worthless ornament." Tyrion finally raised his head, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Look at what he did! He exploited everyone's preconceived notions. He knew the Redwynns would be wary of a direct attack from the Iron Fleet, so he used the most unlikely 'wildfire' to draw all attention, while the real killing blow came from underground and from behind—this isn't barbarism, this is wisdom. Exquisite wisdom!"

However, Tyrion still had some doubts about some of the information, speculating, "The wildfire in King's Landing exploded on Greentree, and Ser Harlan Grandson of the Kingsguard was killed on the spot. King's Landing's clerk said that Harlan Grandson of the Kingsguard acted on his own, transporting the wildfire to Greentree. Heh, such a thing could not have happened without King's Landing's authorization."

Lord Tywin's gaze slowly swept over his three children, who had reacted very differently. Finally, he spoke again, his voice still calm and even, but it set the tone for the discussion.

"Jaime saw courage, Tyrion saw wisdom, and as for my beautiful daughter, she saw nothing but thin air," he concluded, his gaze returning to the scroll as if staring at the distant sea. "But what truly made this victory valuable was the aftermath. No killing of the surrendered soldiers, no burning of the cities, keeping the promise to exchange ransom and hostages, even taking away the artisans and scholars… He transformed a pirate act that could have drawn condemnation from all seven kingdoms into an unassailable military victory that the Iron Islands could openly proclaim. That was the most skillful handling."

"He not only won the war," Lord Tywin concluded, his tone unreadable between admiration and wariness, "he also gained the ability to take everything without leaving others with the immediate means to retaliate. Corinth's eldest son may have been a warhammer, but this one—is a poisoned dagger. Interesting."

The sun beat down on the gardens of Sunspear City, the air thick with the scorching desert winds and the pungent aroma of spices. Oberyn Marshall

Prince Martell—known as "The Red Viper"—reclined lazily on a silk cushion, a scroll of documents from the Citadel held between his long, slender fingers.

He casually glanced at the descriptions of the flames and naval battles on Qingting Island. His lips first pursed into a thin line, then he couldn't help but raise them upwards, eventually turning into a deep, magnetic laugh that echoed through the lush garden, startling a few brightly colored birds.

"Oh, my dear Arianne," he shook his head, as if speaking to his absent niece, his tone full of mockery and undisguised sarcasm, "look at what great things that 'Squid of the Iron Islands' you once scorned has accomplished." He rose and strode like an elegant sand leopard, the parchment swaying contemptuously in his hand.

"Back then, you looked down on him because he was unremarkable, that was all. How could the princess of Dorne condescend to marry the son of a pirate?"

His laughter rang out again: "But now? Look at how he manipulated Qingting Island, how he used wisdom and fire to send one of the seven nations' most powerful fleets to the bottom of the sea, how he calmly took everything worth taking after the war—not just gold, but the future! He is now the most fearsome and captivating falcon in the skies above this ocean!"

He walked to the colonnade, gazing at the shimmering sea in the distance, his tone turning sharp and mocking: "And now, my dear niece, it's not that you look down on him, but that you and the Dorne dowry you represent are insignificant in his eyes. You missed the fiercest winds; now, you are no longer worthy of him."

"He only won one war, and he wasn't even the commander-in-chief!" Ariane scoffed. "Even if he were a golden sea monster, I wouldn't care! There are plenty of men out there!"