Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 124 Frey - Why Seek Death?

The night wind in Earl Harlowe's town, carrying the smells of salt, charcoal, and tar, swept past the stone walls of the tavern.

The town was not ruled by the Earl of Harroway; the Harroway family acquired Harrenhal during the reign of Innis I, becoming the second family to rule the town. They had once married into the ruthless Maeger family, but were ultimately wiped out by the cruel Maeger.

The town of Harlowe is named after the family, but it was the fiefdom of the Root family.

Crossroads Inn.

When Euron pushed open the creaking oak door, a wave of heat mixed with the smells of ale and roasted meat hit him.

This is an old tavern built of volcanic rock, with flint cartridges from generations of drunkards embedded in the cracks in the walls, and faded flags hanging upside down from the wooden beams of the ceiling. More than twenty low tables are crammed together, and diners tap their rough knuckles on the tabletops to keep time for the singer's singing.

—Flames scorched the anvil, dragon flames licked the mast—

A hoarse male voice suddenly rang out.

Euron looked in the direction of the sound and saw a one-eyed man sitting on an oak barrel in the corner. His worn leather apron was scorched, and his left hand, missing an index finger, gripped a wooden goblet. His singing was like a tempered steel blade, each syllable imbued with the ruggedness unique to the Iron Islands: "The sunset over Green Pavilion dyes the pirate flag red, the queen in the flames raises her trident."

The tavern fell silent.

All eyes were on the one-eyed singer. Euron noticed the faded sea monster emblem embroidered on the baggage at his feet—the old emblem of his father, King Coron, from his expedition.

"Keep singing!" A drunken swordsman slammed his fist on the table, splashing beer onto the muddy floor.

The singer's one eye swept across the crowd, his gaze suddenly settling on Euron. He grinned, revealing his missing front tooth, and his voice soared: "Now only the overlord of the North Sea, the king of the deep, their stories are told with strong liquor and fear!"

"—The flames have consumed the old idols, the Ironborn proclaim the name of the new king! Now only Greyjoy remains! Only the Iron Islands remain! The eternal victors, kings of the waves!"

The last resounding syllable struck the rough stone wall of the tavern, creating a buzzing echo.

In an instant, the entire tavern erupted in thunderous cheers and the deafening banging of tables. Euron's Ironborn guards were even more excited, laughing and shouting wildly. One of the burly men even kicked over an empty barrel next to him with a loud crash.

The one-eyed singer leaped down from the wine barrel that served as his stage. His leg seemed to be injured, and he walked with a slight limp. His stained leather apron brushed against Euron's boots with his movements. He stopped before Euron and bowed respectfully: "Lord Euron!"

"There's no need to use such a form of address outside," Euron smiled, appearing quite amiable. With a flick of his finger, a gleaming gold dragon coin traced a graceful arc and landed precisely in the singer's hastily outstretched palm. "You sang very well."

However, just as the atmosphere was getting lively, an extremely harsh and contemptuous roar was like a bucket of cold water, instantly echoing throughout the tavern:

"What the hell is that song?!"

All eyes immediately turned to them. Several well-dressed but arrogant-looking men were looking over disdainfully. Their shields and collars bore the familiar twin-tower crest—the Frey family. They had clearly noticed the exquisite golden krait emblem on Euron's lapel and were deliberately looking for trouble.

One of the leading Frey Knights sneered, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear: "Mere Ironborn, you think you're something special just because you stole a little gold? You want to flaunt your wealth and keep singers like Lord Lannister? You sea ravens, do you even deserve it?"

Clang!

Before he could finish speaking, Euron's Ironborn warriors were already enraged, their swords instantly drawn, the cold glint reflecting on their furious faces. The dozen or so Frey warriors on the other side were equally defiant, drawing their swords as well. The atmosphere in the tavern instantly became tense, and a bloody conflict seemed imminent.

However, Euron, at the center of the storm, merely shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. He raised his hand, signaling his men to put away their weapons, his gaze not even lingering on the few Frey members.

"No need to be here," Euron said calmly, his voice not loud, but carrying a cold, penetrating force. "Don't stoop to their level." Euron's composure and concession, however, became the best proof of cowardice and weakness in the eyes of those few Frey members.

"Hmph, you Iron Ravens know what's good for you!" The leading Frey Knight, seeing this, became even more smug, shoving his sword back into its sheath with a clang, as if he had won a great victory. He deliberately raised his voice, making sure the entire tavern could hear his mockery: "Go back to the sea with your tails between your legs! That's where you belong! You're not worthy to meddle in matters on land!"

His companions burst into laughter, interspersed with vulgar insults such as "sea monsters only deserve to eat rotten fish" and "the poor slobs of Pike Town." They sat back down, loudly ordering more wine as if they had just shooed away a swarm of annoying flies, and the atmosphere became noisy again, but filled with an unsettling victor's arrogance.

A young Ironborn guard couldn't help but spit out a curse, his teeth grinding together: "Sir! Are we just going to let those Twin City bastards insult us like this?! They're not even worthy of shining our boots!"

Another old resident of Tiemin had a gloomy face and said in a low voice, "The Frey family—they're getting more and more arrogant because of the river crossing and the marriage alliance. But they've forgotten that no matter how wide the river is, it can't be wider than the sea."

Euron glanced at them coldly and said, "Barking stray dogs aren't worth fighting with in the middle of the city. It'll only get your hands dirty and provide entertainment for passersby."

The Frey family's arrogance did not subside because of Euron's concession; on the contrary, it intensified.

Three Frey family members, clearly drunk and emboldened by lust, staggered to their feet and blocked Euron's group's path. Their eyes were fixed on Lisa with greedy and rude intent, filled with filthy lust.

The leader, dressed in cavalry leather armor and sporting a filthy smile, reached out his dirty hand to touch Lisa's face, while reeking of alcohol as he said to Euron, "Hey, Ironblood kid, this chick next to you is pretty good—how many bronze stars would it take for her to spend the night with us? We Freys have plenty—uh—money—"

His foul language stopped abruptly.

Because in the next instant, Euron moved.

There were no warnings, no reprimands, not even a trace of extra expression. He simply drew his famous sword, Sakura-ju, from his waist with breathtaking speed.

A flash of cold light appeared, accompanied by a sickening thud as a blade pierced through leather and flesh. The long, sharp blade had precisely and thoroughly pierced the throat of the Frey cavalryman!

The cavalryman's eyes bulged out, filled with unbelievable horror. He tried to scream, but could only let out a "hoarse" sound from his pierced throat. Blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering his companion's face.

The other two Frey family members were stunned. The sudden bloodshed jolted them halfway out of their drunken stupor, and they instinctively reached for their swords.

But Euron gave them no chance. The instant their fingers touched the hilts, Euron's other hand had already drawn the wooden sword. The two swords flashed out like the wings of death, cutting two deadly streaks of light!

One head, frozen in astonishment, shot skyward; the other head was cleaved diagonally downward, almost split in two.

In the blink of an eye, the three Freys had become the victims of his sword.

"She's my woman! None of you are worthy to even look at her." Euron flicked the warm blood off his sword, the movement as light as brushing away a speck of dust. He didn't even glance at the corpses on the ground, but spoke calmly and clearly to the Ironborn behind him, who were already unable to contain their killing intent: "Kill them all. Leave no one alive."

The order was like a spark igniting a powder keg. The Ironborn warriors, who had been simmering with rage, instantly exploded! Like tigers released from their cages, they roared and pounced on the Frey family members who were still reeling from the shock. The sounds of swords clashing, screams, and shattering furniture filled the tavern as a bloody massacre suddenly unfolded.

The one-eyed singer, amidst the chaos, flashed a fierce light in his single eye and silently crept up behind a Frey cavalryman who was entangled with the Ironborn. With a precise and ruthless slit, he cut open the man's throat with a dagger, his movements practiced and skillful, showing none of what one would expect from a singer with rotten legs.

A moment later, the tavern fell silent again, leaving only a heavy, nauseating stench of blood. All the members of the Frey family were now cold corpses lying on the ground.