Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 125 Lisa Takes the Initiative

The Iron Clan warrior, his face covered in blood, suddenly turned around, his fierce gaze sweeping over the other patrons huddled in the corner of the tavern, trembling with fear, like a wild beast.

His gaze finally landed on Euron. He didn't speak, but the blood-dripping sword he gripped tightly and the undisguised killing intent in his eyes clearly conveyed a question: Should he kill all these witnesses to silence them?

Euron's gaze swept calmly over the terrified faces, and he slowly shook his head. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a condescending indifference, as if he had just crushed not a group of Freys, but a nest of noisy rats: "It wasn't necessary," he said lightly. "They were just a Frey family; killing them is fine. Besides—"

He paused, then continued, "Early on, when the conflict first broke out, some 'smart people' had already slipped out to report to the local lords. Now, sealing it off is too late and will only make us look guilty."

Not long after he finished speaking, the sounds of hurried footsteps and clashing armor came from outside the tavern.

The local lord indeed arrived with a small squad of guards; his family crest was a brown double-headed horse on green waves—the Rutgers.

"I am Lucas Lute." However, the lord's demeanor was quite subtle. "It seems your dispute is over."

He and his soldiers merely blocked the tavern entrance; they didn't immediately rush in to demand an explanation, but rather seemed to be there to maintain order.

To prevent the situation from escalating further and to protect other unrelated civilians, he glanced at the Frey family corpses scattered on the ground and the Ironborn standing with their swords drawn, his brow furrowed, but ultimately offered no comment, clearly unwilling to be easily drawn into the feud between the two major powers.

"It's over. Consider this golden dragon as compensation for the damage to the tavern." Euron was not surprised by the lord's reaction. He calmly took out a golden dragon coin from his pocket, flicked his finger, and the coin spun precisely through the air, landing with a "clang" on the counter in front of the stunned tavern owner.

With another flick, another golden dragon landed in front of the tavern owner.

"I'll need your help to bury these later," Euron ordered, his tone as calm as if he were paying for drinks rather than hiring people to dispose of a dozen or so corpses. Having said that, he didn't glance again at the ravaged tavern, and with his men, under the silent watch of the lord's guard, calmly left this place of turmoil that had just witnessed a bloody storm.

The Ironborn methodically carried out their ancient tradition of "paying iron coins," which involved looting all valuable items from the fallen enemies after a battle.

The bodies of the Frey soldiers were quickly searched. They didn't have much money on them, but one of the corpses, which seemed to be a minor leader, had two letters carefully sealed with wax pulled out of his pocket.

The letters were presented to Euron. He tore off the sealing wax and quickly glanced through the contents. The first letter was addressed to Harrenburg, informing Earl of Riveran that Shaya Riveran (the daughter of the Riveran family), the fifth wife of Walder Frey, patriarch of the Frey family, Marquis of the Twins, and Lord of the River Crossing, had recently passed away. The letter was written in a rather formulaic manner.

The second letter was addressed to the Rossby family in the Royal Territory. The letter was much more urgent, revealing that Marquis Walder Frey, with his fifth wife still barely cold in his grave, was eager to marry Miss Bessane Rossby of the Rossby family as his sixth wife, aiming to strengthen the Frey family's relationship with the Royal Territory's nobility through this new marriage.

Euron looked at the two letters, a barely perceptible sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

Walder Frey, the Marquis born in 208 AC and now over seventy, possesses astonishing energy and an obsession with marriage and children. He currently has more than a dozen legitimate sons and four or five legitimate daughters, and the number of his illegitimate children is unknown.

His fifth wife, Shaya Hoan, had just been buried, and the candidates for his sixth wife were already on their way to negotiations.

"That old turtle never leaves his bed empty," a soldier from the Iron People's Army muttered under his breath as he glanced at the letter. His tone was a mixture of disdain and a strange admiration for the old man's astonishing vitality.

Could it be that the Frey family doesn't have blood flowing through their veins, but rather the genes of boars? Euron even had such an absurd thought flash through his mind.

Euron shook his head, as if trying to shake the inappropriate thought out of his mind. He handed the two letters to the towering "Cracked Gill" Dagmo beside him and instructed, "Give these two letters to Earl of Harrenhal, intact. If he asks about what happened here, just tell him the truth; there's no need to hide anything."

That night, they stayed at a local inn. Inside the room, the light from the oil lamp cast shadows on the walls. Euron noticed that Lisa was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking somewhat dazed, far from her usual calm and sharp demeanor.

"What's wrong?" Euron asked, his voice unusually clear in the quiet room. "Were you frightened by what happened this evening?" He was referring to the sudden massacre.

Lisa shook her head, her gaze unfocused on a point in the void: "No."

"What is that?" Euron took a few steps closer and looked down at her.

Lisa finally raised her head, her eyes, which often concealed countless thoughts, looking directly at him. Her voice was soft, yet carried an unusual seriousness: "What did you mean when you said to them in the evening—when that Frey uttered those insulting words—that you said 'She's my woman'?"

Euron was visibly taken aback upon hearing this, seemingly not expecting her to be concerned about this. Then, his expression returned to its usual...

With a slightly amused expression: "It means exactly what it says. What else could it be?"

"I was sent to you when I was twelve," Lisa said calmly, as if stating a fact she had been preparing for a long time. "It's been six years now. I'm eighteen now, Lord Euron."

In Westeros, an eighteen-year-old might already be a mother of several children.

"Yes," Euron responded, his tone devoid of much emotion, "I remember it very clearly."

"But you've never touched me." Lisa's words were like a pebble thrown into a still lake, direct and clear.

"Isn't it good to respect you?" Euron chuckled, trying to defuse the sudden bluntness in his usual way.

However, Lisa wasn't easily dismissed as usual. Her gaze didn't waver; instead, it sharpened: "But you've been intimate with the Red Priestess Gwendolyn many times. Right there in the Tower, I know."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. The flame of the oil lamp flickered slightly.

Euron looked at her, his deep eyes flashing with an unfathomable light. After a moment of silence, all his teasing and evasion seemed to vanish, replaced by a primal, unquestionable resolve.

"Let's do it today."

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly stepped forward, wrapped his arm around Lisa, and easily lifted her up in his arms.

Lisa gasped softly, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. The next moment, she was thrown rather ungently onto the simple bed covered with animal hides. Euron's figure loomed over her, casting a shadow over her, the oil lamp's light outlining a menacing silhouette behind him.

All the words and probing turned into the most direct actions at this moment.

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