Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 132 Frey - The Massacre on the High Seas

The longship set sail, heading towards Yangji City.

The decision to rest on Tass Island for one night was not a spur-of-the-moment thing. Of course, it was also because Tass Island was located between Dragonstone and Sunspear, but the main reason was a letter from King Coron three days ago.

On the rough parchment, the handwriting carries the decisiveness of King Coron.

The letter was frank, stating two main points: First, the fleet must stop at Tass Island. At this moment, Earl Selwyn Tass, the "Star of Twilight," of "Twilight Hall," is celebrating the eighth name birthday of his only son and rightful heir, his daughter Brienne. Our fleet frequently stops at his port and receives much patronage; this is an occasion not to be missed, both as a courtesy and, if possible, as a potential marriage alliance, which could hold future opportunities.

Secondly, your uncle Balf and Victoria Daniels have been ordered to arrive at Tass ahead of you. The journey is perilous, but they will meet your fleet there before heading together to the tournament at Harrenhal.

This is not simply a collaboration; it is more like a convergence of forces.

At the end of the letter, King Coron's handwriting was particularly heavy, revealing deep concern: "The Freys will surely avenge their loss."

You've cost the Marquis of Walder's son his head; he won't let this go unpunished. Every step on the road to Harrenhal could be deadly. It's safer to travel with those who join us.

Euron did not resist the genuine concern expressed in his father's letter. He knew that King Coron's worries were not unfounded, and he himself had never let his guard down, always wary of any arrows that might be shot from the shadows. He accepted the arrangement; after all, on the vast and unpredictable ocean, it was always good to be prepared.

However, even with the worst-case scenario in mind, Euron never anticipated that the Frey family would be so arrogant as to openly set up a killing trap on the vast ocean. The sea was the hunting ground for the Greyjoy family, not the domain of the rats of Lee River.

On the third day of the voyage, sunlight spilled like shattered gold onto the azure carpet.

Euron stood at the bow of the ship with Ashara and Princess Elia Martell, enjoying the slightly salty sea breeze. Days of facing the boundless expanse had indeed cleansed their souls; even Princess Elia's pale cheeks seemed to have regained a touch of color in the sea breeze.

Just then, three enormous and ancient sea turtles silently surfaced and slowly approached the ship's side. Their shells, covered with mottled marks, told tales of the vicissitudes of time, while their eyes were extraordinary, sparkling with an almost human-like wisdom, as deep and profound as the ocean itself.

Princess Elijah was the first to be drawn to them. Leaning against the railing, she exclaimed softly, "Look, they are so beautiful—especially their eyes, which seem to speak, full of spirit." She did indeed sense that there was some kind of silent communication between these uninvited guests and Euron—they gazed at him quietly, as if eagerly conveying some message.

In that unnoticed moment, ancient and direct whispers echoed in Euron's mind. He seemed to see those scenes through their eyes—friendship and warnings from the depths of the ocean.

[Ahead—an ambush—] That consciousness surged in like a cold tide, carrying the chill of the deep sea. [Three—ships with twin towers—hid behind the cape—reeking of slaughter—]

A glint of icy sharpness flashed in Euron's eyes. His body tensed almost imperceptibly, then a cold smile curved his lips. He reached out and gently patted the rough hull, expressing his gratitude to the messengers in a way no one else knew. The sea turtle nodded slightly, left the hull, and dived into the deep sea.

"You're right, Princess Ilya, they really can talk." He turned to them, his smile still composed, but his tone leaving no room for argument. "They told me that some unfriendly guests are waiting ahead. I'm afraid Princess Ilya should return to her cabin to rest for a while and take good care of the little princess."

Then, he turned his head and spoke in a voice that was not loud but could be clearly heard through the sea breeze: "Raise the sea monster flag."

All hands on deck, we have guests! Stay alert, grip your swords tightly, don't let them down. Take a good look at our guests, see what they want.

The sea breeze still blew, but suddenly carried an omen of steel and bloodshed. The setting sun dyed the sea a blood red, as if foreshadowing the impending battle.

Euron's longship was heading toward the harbor of Tass when three longships bearing the Frey family's twin tower crest suddenly emerged from behind the jagged rocks of Shipwreck Bay like ghosts, forming a sharp angle that firmly surrounded his ship in the center.

Each enemy ship was packed with people, roughly thirty or more, with nearly a hundred pairs of malevolent eyes focused on the lone sea monster ship. In comparison, Euron's ship, including the infant princess, had only eleven people.

The disparity in strength is breathtaking.

At the bow of the lead ship stood a man with a sinister face—Symond Frey, the seventh son of the Marquis of Walder.

His face contorted with vengeful satisfaction, he roared, "You Iron Islands bastard! I'm here to show you what happens when you mess with the Freys!"

Euron stood at the bow of the ship, the sea breeze ruffling his hair, but his expression was terrifyingly calm: "If you're referring to those scumbags at the Crossroads Inn, they deserved it."

"I don't care if they live or die!" Simon roared. "But they were wearing Frey clothes, carrying the Frey Twin Towers, and everyone knows you killed members of the Frey family! Not to mention, Rega Frey was among them! The honor of the Frey family cannot be insulted!"

"Rega Frey?" Euron raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Marquis of Walder's son?"

"He is the second son of Sir Innis Frey! Sir Innis is the third son of the Marquess and his first wife—" Simon urged, eager to emphasize the deceased's identity.

"Heh," Euron let out a cold sneer, interrupting his tedious family genealogy, "You Frey family members are as numerous as tadpoles in a river, capable of breeding an army on your own. If one or two die, old Walder probably won't even remember their names, right? You're talking to me about your Frey family's glory? What glory do you Frey family have to speak of!?"

This taunt thoroughly enraged Simon. Simon Frey's gaze swept venomously over Lisa beside Euron, a lewd smile spreading across his face: "Hmph, so this is the little maid that Rhaegar Frey and the others harassed? She certainly has some looks."

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"He is the second son of Sir Innis Frey! Sir Innis is the third son of the Marquess and his first wife—" Simon urged, eager to emphasize the deceased's identity.

"Heh," Euron let out a cold sneer, interrupting his tedious family genealogy, "You Frey family members are as numerous as tadpoles in a river, capable of breeding an army on your own. If one or two die, old Walder probably won't even remember their names, right? You're talking to me about your Frey family's glory? What glory do you Frey family have to speak of!?"

This taunt thoroughly enraged Simon. Simon Frey's self-glow swept viciously over Lisa beside Euron, a lewd smile spreading across his face: "Hmph, so this is the little maid that Rhaegar Frey and the others harassed? She is indeed quite pretty."

"Don't worry, we'll come up to you one by one in a moment, and properly comfort her wounded heart!"

The hatch opened.

Princess Elia Martell stepped forward, her pale face bearing an unyielding air of authority. Her voice was clear and firm: "I am Elia Martell, wife of Rhaegar Targaryen, the true dragon of Westeros, and sister of Prince Doran of Dorne. I command you to leave immediately, and I will pretend this rude interception never happened."

Simon Frey's expression instantly changed, the royal title bringing a primal sense of apprehension. But behind him, a burly man with a face full of scars—Tethos Frey—let out a rude sneer: "I'm still Prince Rhaegar! Hmph, who are you trying to fool? But this little wench is quite pretty," he licked his lips, his gaze lingering greedily on Ilya, and said to Simon Frey, "In a moment, this 'princess' will be mine!"

Princess Elia Martell's face was ashen, but looking at the enemy's tenfold numbers, her expression darkened. She wasn't worried about herself, but about her daughter—Rhaenys.