Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

The door shut out the last light and sound. The vast black stone hall fell into a suffocating silence, with only the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace echoing in the emptiness, sounding particularly jarring.

King Coron Teso remained with his back to the doorway, like an ancient, unchanging rock statue, enduring the silent storm raging within him. The firelight cast flickering shadows on his broad back. Not far before him, the spoils of war—gold coins, silk, jeweled goblets—gleaming alluringly in the firelight, now exuded a cold, ironic aura, a sharp mockery of this "victory." He had traded his son's adventure and the safety of the entire archipelago for nothing more than these cold, lifeless objects, and a future requiring even stronger defenses.

His deep, heavy voice, imbued with the weight of iron and blood, rose slowly, as if speaking to himself, yet also as if addressing the Black Stone Hall that bore witness to countless generations of the Greyjoy family's glory and sins:

"Plunder... is an instinct etched into the very bones of the Ironborn, a means of survival bestowed upon us by the Drowned God..." His voice was particularly heavy in the silence, "But foolishness! Arrogant foolishness! It will gnaw at our ship's hull from within, like termites, and ultimately... bury the entire archipelago!" He paused for a long time, the firelight illuminating his tightly pursed lips and deep nasolabial folds, finally culminating in a barely audible sigh, filled with complex expectations and stern admonitions for his eldest son: "Baron, my son... I hope the waves of Howling Cape can truly... wash away the arrogance in your mind."

"Dagmo," Corren's voice regained its usual cold, commanding tone; he still didn't turn around, "Sit down!"

"Rending" Dagmore, the old pirate who struck fear into the hearts of his enemies at sea, appeared unusually uneasy. He nervously rubbed his calloused and scarred hands, his throat bobbing, before carefully pulling out the heavy wooden chair opposite King Coron. The chair legs scraped against the stone floor, making a harsh, grating sound that echoed in the deathly silent hall. He sat down stiffly, back ramrod straight, hands on his knees, like a prisoner awaiting trial, completely devoid of the ferocity he displayed during his piracy at sea. He furtively glanced at the king's mountain-like, somber back before quickly lowering his gaze again.

"Now," Corren finally turned around slowly, his weathered, hawk-like eyes gleaming with a cold, oppressive light in the firelight, fixed firmly on Dagmore, "pour out everything you've been keeping inside—every drop of seawater, every wisp of sea breeze, every rock from this 'voyage'... from beginning to end! Don't leave out a single word!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Dagmo took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tension in his heart. His rough voice rang out in the empty hall as he began his long and detailed report.

"Crackling" Dagmo took a deep breath, as if trying to expel all the tension from his lungs, his rough voice echoing in the silent Black Stone Hall, where only the crackling of the hearth fire could be heard:

"It all... started when Young Master Baron got his hands on that merchant ship route map at the 'Salty Blood' tavern. It marked the routes and times for the fat sheep: spices, silk, gems... Young Master Baron's eyes were practically bloodshot, like a shark smelling blood. Of course, I was the same, even thirstier and hungrier." He licked his chapped lips. "So I gathered the crew, prepared fresh water and food, and the Drinking Buffalo waited for high tide to set sail. As for Young Master Euron, he was only brought aboard after threatening Baron to betray him before the Drinking Buffalo set sail."

Dagmore paused here, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "Young Master Euren... after boarding the ship, he was engrossed in his tattered book, seemingly indifferent to everything. When Young Master Baron made the decision to proceed, he didn't object, but... he only asked one question: 'The map doesn't mark escort ships, nor does it indicate water depth or reefs. Father taught me that plundering relies on knives and axes, but also on brains.'"

King Coron stood with his back to him, motionless, but the flickering light of the fire seemed to freeze for a moment on his broad shoulders.

“Young Master Baron wouldn’t listen to any of this. He just muttered ‘What does that brat know?’ and that’s how he finalized the plan,” Dagmore continued. “Before he actually took action, Young Master Euron… he did a few… strange things.”

"Speak!" Corren's voice was like a cold reef.

Dagmore lowered his voice, tinged with a confusion he himself couldn't comprehend, "After capturing their tongues, Young Master Baron and we were all eager to pry their mouths open. Axes, skinning knives, whatever was most effective! But Young Master Euron... he's different."

As Dagmore described the interrogation scene, his tone unconsciously carried a hint of amazement at the "efficiency," even though the method instinctively sent a chill down his spine:

"He was like...like butchering a fish, Your Majesty. He didn't rush to chop off his finger; he circled the three prisoners first, examining their hands, their clothes, even their old scars! He discovered the three-edged arrowhead scar on the mercenary prisoner's shoulder. And then...he used this!" Dagmer subconsciously touched his waist. "Not a knife, but rust! He scraped a handful of rust from the ship's deck and...so precisely, he stuffed it into the old scar on the mercenary's shoulder! Good heavens, didn't you hear the scream! It was worse than having your finger chopped off! The mercenary immediately broke down, vomiting out the number and location of his guards, even revealing that his servants were unarmed!"

Koren remained with his back turned, but Dagmore felt the silent gaze grow even heavier.

"The most dangerous thing is that he interrogated them separately! Euron was on his first voyage, his first raid, and definitely his first time interrogating, yet he was more skilled and thorough than us old pirates," Dagmore emphasized. "Young Master Baron interrogated one, I interrogated one, and he interrogated the third. He asked the same questions: number of ships, cargo, escorts, course... and then compared their testimonies like piecing together ship planks! Your Majesty, you know, when you interrogate separately, if the testimonies don't match, it's a lie! We've never done this before..."

Dagmore paused, seemingly recalling the efficient yet ruthless raid. "His attitude towards the prisoners..." He remembered Euron's last words to them, "He handed water to those half-dead guys, squatted in front of them, his voice as cold as ice, telling them how they would be skinned, cut up, and fed to sea maggots if the intelligence was false... and that he could guarantee their survival if things went smoothly... His tone wasn't a threat, it was... a statement of a fact they couldn't escape. And one of them actually broke out in fear and screamed 'Will-o'-the-wisp!' That intelligence was something he squeezed out of them!"

"If we hadn't known beforehand, the Hao Yin ship would have rushed over, and that servant boy would have lit a fire, and we would all have turned into roasted fish!" Dagmo's voice was filled with lingering fear and a hint of relief.

"Having determined the route and the time to act, we arrived ahead of time to ambush. Young Master Eulen had a few Ironborn rowers in small boats to scout the narrowest section of 'Widow's Gorge'." A glint of recollection flashed in Dagmore's single eye. "Not to check the location of the reefs—we knew that place well—but to check the currents! To see which reefs would be exposed enough for a person to stand on at low tide, and which channels would be submerged and become dead ends at high tide! He also had Glenn memorize the locations of the strongest whirlpools... At the time, we all thought this kid was being redundant; in a sea battle, who cares about the currents?"

"What about when they hijacked the ship?" Corin finally spoke, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Young Master Baron was incredibly brave; he was the first to leap onto the merchant ship and took down the lookout with a single blow," Dagmore said hastily. "Old Wick led his men to storm the cargo hold and deal with the will-o'-the-wisps, and they did a great job too. But... some details were arranged by Young Master Euron." He swallowed hard. "He had those men who had scouted the currents beforehand, carrying poisoned arrows coated with owl dung, lie prone on the rocks exposed at low tide! The location was treacherous, and the current was strong; the merchant ship would never suspect anyone could hide there! The arrows were fired silently and with remarkable effect! Also, he had Glenn and his men block not the main deck, but the waterway exits that would be flooded at high tide! As a result, two guards who tried to jump overboard to escape actually ran in and drowned in the dead ends..."

"And that little girl..." Dagmo hesitated for a moment, but still said it, "Lisa. Young Master Baron chose the salt concubine according to the rules, but Young Master Euron took the youngest one, a girl from Pentos, as thin as a reed. He said he wouldn't be a salt concubine, but a maid. We all laughed at him for trying to order around a maid before he was even fully grown up... But later, on the ship, I heard that little girl talking to him in a language we couldn't understand, and Young Master Euron was actually imitating her! The tone... was very strange, like a snake hissing, or a dragon roaring... It was said to be High Varish."

"Advanced Valysian!"

Dagmo's voice trailed off; he felt he had already revealed too many details about that "cunning" boy. He glanced up furtively; King Coron remained with his back to him, like an unchanging black reef, with only the flickering light of the fire casting shadows on him. The hall was deathly silent, save for Dagmo's heavy breathing and the crackling of the burning wood.

After a long while, when Dagmo was almost suffocating, Koren's deep voice slowly rang out, carrying a heavy tone born of deep thought:

"Act like dissecting a fish... Assess the enemy like observing its patterns... Use their weakness, not their strength... Observe them separately, and verify them together... Even the flow of water, old scars, and the will to survive in people's hearts can be used as weapons..." He seemed to be summarizing, or perhaps chewing on these unfamiliar qualities, "...and he also knows to learn advanced Varethian."

King Koren finally turned around slowly, his hawk-like eyes sharp as knives in the firelight, piercing Dagmo: "Dagmo, tell me, an Ironborn, a Greyjoy, what...what do you need these for?"

With a half-smile, he said, "You seem... to value Euron highly?"

"Of course, Euron is the king's son."

"That's all?"

Dagmo was speechless, feeling a chill run down his spine. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he just lowered his head in fear, not daring to look into the king's all-seeing gaze.

"In the storm, young master Euron seemed possessed by a drowning god who could control the sea; I saw him wearing the crown of the Grey Sea King..."

In the hall, only the spoils of war remained, their cold, eerie light gleaming silently in the firelight, amidst a profound, ocean-like silence.