Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 138 Stone Steps Islands

The Steps Isles, an archipelago scattered like broken fangs east of Dorne to the disputed lands, are the most notorious and treacherous place on the Narrow Sea, a den of pirates, mercenaries, and ambitious men.

Among hundreds of desolate islets, only two islands have earned their names because of the countless bloodshed and death they have witnessed—Bloodstone Island and Gray Gallows Island. Their very existence is a testament to the perpetual turmoil of this sea.

Bloodstone Island—its name comes from a chilling and terrifying legend.

It is said that countless fierce battles have taken place on this island and in the surrounding waters over the centuries. The hot blood spilled by humans has so much that it has deeply seeped into every inch of the island's soil and stained the texture of every rough stone.

Under the scorching sun, the dark red patches covering the beach and rock formations seemed never to have dried, still exuding a strong aura of rust and death.

Grey Gallows Island—another concrete representation of fear.

Countless rough and tall gallows, like withered trees, are scattered across the island's headlands and highlands, creaking and groaning in the sea breeze.

The lives they devoured were countless, including once-renowned pirate kings, fallen mercenary leaders, and madmen who proclaimed themselves masters of the islands, as well as countless nameless soldiers and wronged souls. Their corpses once swayed in the wind here, becoming terrifying totems to warn those who followed, making the island itself a synonym for despair and ultimate punishment.

The Stone Steps Islands have never truly been peaceful.

War, plunder, and betrayal are the only laws here.

The title of "King of the Stone Steps Islands," an empty title forged in blood, changed hands repeatedly amidst endless conflicts and battles.

The free-trading city-states of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosi—who joined forces to establish, and ultimately tore apart, the fragile Kingdom of the Three Daughters in a struggle for control of this strategically important region.

This place attracted the lingering influence of the Blackfyre family, the sharp edge of Dorne, the iron hooves of the Golden Company, and even the gaze of the Iron Throne—one after another, countless forces have been drawn into this eternal arena, turning it into a millstone of ambition and greed.

Now, this place has once again become a powerless, unclaimed territory, a bloody paradise where pirates roam freely. Euron's gaze, like that of a circling sea eagle, has long been fixed on this chaotic sea, full of danger and opportunity. But he knows that he is not the only predator coveting this prize.

Euron's fleet waited quietly, allowing the sailors to take turns eating and resting to replenish their strength. About two hours later, those loyal "friends" sent another message through an invisible bond—the brutal battle in the distance had finally come to an end.

Having received a definite signal, Euron then ordered the sails to be raised, and the two longships once again parted the azure sea, heading towards the Steps Islands.

When they finally crossed the narrow sea between the islands, the scene before them was like a painting of hell.

The seawater was no longer azure, but stained with a thick, ominous dark red, as if the entire ocean had become a giant bowl of blood soup. Mutilated limbs and unrecognizable pieces of flesh rose and fell like murky foam with the waves. Even more corpses floated among them, bobbing silently with the tides.

What's even more chilling is that makeshift boats, like vultures, flit among the floating corpses.

The people on the ship—those unique professionals of the Steppe Islands known as "corpse retrievers"—were mechanically and skillfully carrying out their work: using hooks to drag the bloated corpses closer, deftly looting everything of potential value—rings, necklaces, coins, even decent clothing—then binding these penniless bodies with heavy stones and coldly pushing them back into the deep sea, as if they were dealing not with lives that had once been their own kind, but with ordinary cargo.

When Euron's two well-equipped longships, with their menacing crews, entered this deadly water, all the body retrievers paused. They all looked up, their eyes filled with a mixture of wariness, greed, and ferocity as they sized up the newcomers.

However, when they saw the array of swords and spears on the opposing ship, the faces of those who were clearly not benevolent, and the golden sea monster flag flying high on the bow, their nascent evil thoughts instantly vanished. They quickly lowered their heads, their dim eyes refocusing on the terrifying business at hand, as if they had never raised their heads before, knowing full well that in this lawless sea, some people were destined to be untouchable.

When Euron's longship was still half a day's journey from Sunspear, the outline of a warship suddenly appeared on the vast sea. It was sailing towards them, and the flag flying from its bow was particularly eye-catching—on a yellow background, a golden spear sharply pierced through a bright red sun.

"It's the emblem of our Martell family! It's a ship from Sunspear!" Princess Elia Martell instantly recognized the flag. The melancholy that had always lingered between her brows seemed to be blown away by the sea breeze, replaced by an almost girlish joy and excitement. She practically jumped up and grabbed Euron's arm, pointing into the distance, her voice trembling slightly with excitement, like a child who had left home finally seeing familiar lights.

In the distance, a man and a woman could be seen standing at the bow of the ship, waving their arms vigorously in their direction, their movements filled with undisguised enthusiasm.

Princess Elijah immediately rushed to the bow, leaning most of her body over the gunwale, waving her arms frantically in response, completely disregarding the danger. She excitedly turned to Euron and shouted, "It's my brother! It's Oberyn! He's here!"

Euron squinted, straining to see into the distance. The two figures were just blurry outlines to him, their full forms obscured. "From this distance, it's hard to even tell if it's a man or a woman. How can you be so sure it's him?"

Princess Ilya turned her head, her face beaming with immense pride and certainty. The sea breeze ruffled her hair, and her tone was resolute, carrying the unwavering certainty unique to blood ties and kinship: "Of course! We are siblings connected by blood, and even more so, each other's closest friends. I would never be mistaken!"

That banner fluttering in the sea breeze—a yellow background with a golden spear piercing the red sun—undoubtedly belonged to the Martell family, the symbol of Sunspear City, with no possibility of error.

Euron's gaze remained sharp as a hawk's, sweeping across the enemy ship's deck, gun turrets, and every visible detail. He did not relax his vigilance in the slightest because of the flag, and his deep, clear command quickly spread throughout the ship: "Everyone, weapons at hand, stand ready, and do not move without my order."

His instinctive, almost obsessive caution clearly stung Princess Elia Martell's feelings. Seeing Euron's utter distrust of her judgment and her family, the jubilant smile on her face instantly turned to frost. She abruptly turned her head, letting out a very soft but disdainful snort from her nose, her chin slightly raised, revealing the pride and annoyance characteristic of Dornish princesses, as if she had been greatly insulted.

"Being cautious is never a bad idea!"

You Lun remained unmoved.