Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 153 I'll kick you away! — Karstark

As Euron's party approached the vast city of tents, a carefully orchestrated spectacle unfolded before them: the densely packed tents, as if possessing a life of their own, automatically parted to the sides, creating a path wide enough for two horses to pass side by side.

Even more astonishing is that the two sides of the road are cleverly constructed with the "Kraken" series of red wine bottles produced by the Greyjoy family of the Iron Islands—in white, blue, purple, and gold—forming a colorful and ingenious temporary barrier that shimmers brilliantly in the sunlight, like a dazzling gemstone passage.

At regular intervals, a beautiful young woman in matching attire stands gracefully. She carries an elegant tray with four glasses of different colored wines, each corresponding to a different "Sea Monster" red wine. With charming smiles, she gracefully offers each new guest a glass of wine for a complimentary tasting.

As the guests savor their drinks, they will deliver a perfectly timed greeting in a soft, pleasant voice, yet loud enough for those around them: "Distinguished guests, welcome to Harrenhal! All the food and drinks for this tournament are generously sponsored by the Greyjoy family of the Iron Islands!"

"The white sea monster is refreshing and crisp, the blue sea monster is rich and lingering, the purple sea monster is deep and complex, and the golden sea monster is a collector's item—there's a sea monster to conquer your discerning palate!"

At the end of this lavish propaganda corridor, Maester Qyburn, clad in a grey robe, had been waiting for some time. He stood there quietly, his gaze passing over the noisy crowd and precisely locked onto Euron Greyjoy as he slowly approached, like a steward awaiting his master's inspection of his extraordinary achievements.

Euron nodded approvingly at the scene that Coburn had meticulously arranged, and said approvingly, "Very well done, thank you for your hard work."

Koben bowed slightly with humility, his voice steady and respectful: "Everything was done in accordance with your instructions, sir."

"Not disappointing you, sir, is the best outcome." He then stepped aside, gesturing for him to follow. "My lord, please come with me. King Coron and Lord Baron have been waiting for you at their lodgings in the Iron Islands for quite some time."

Euron, Balf, Dagmo, and the other Ironborn elites were about to follow Qyburn into the castle when an untimely voice, filled with jealousy and anger, suddenly rang out from the side: "Why can these Ironborn swagger into the castle while we Karstark have to suffer in the sandstorms outside?!"

Euron paused, his icy gaze sweeping over the speaker, quickly recognizing the other's emblem—a white sunburst star on a black background. A cold, unfeeling smile curved his lips, his voice clear and chilling, instantly drowning out the surrounding noise: "The reason is simple. Because we, House Greyjoy, are Kings of the Iron Islands, while you, House Karstark, are neither House Stark nor Kings of the North."

Enraged by these words, the young nobleman named Toren Karstark burst into a furious laugh: "Ha! A pirate who lives by plundering dares to act like a king before us Northern nobles?! If you were in the North, you sea monsters would have frozen to death on the ice plains long ago! With your physique," he looked Euron up and down contemptuously, waving his thick arm, "I could take you down with one hand!"

Balf and Dagmore glared angrily at his words, ready to teach the insolent Northerner a lesson, but Euron stopped them with a simple gesture. Euron wasn't angry; instead, he turned to Qyburn beside him and asked, "Qyburn, lately around Harrenhal, how are fights and even accidental killings usually handled?"

Qyburn immediately understood Euron's implication, and a strange smile appeared on his usually expressionless face. He shrugged and said in a relaxed tone, "My lord, in this place nowadays, if you don't fight ten or eight matches a day and seven or eight people die, then it's not a complete day. Lord He'an's men are too busy cleaning up the place to investigate further."

Euron then slowly turned his head and walked towards Toren Karstark, who was nearly two meters tall and as strong as a bear.

He stopped in front of the other person, calmly looked up to meet their angry gaze, and said indifferently, "Come on, try it. I'm curious how you plan to take me down with one hand."

[Iron block]

Seeing that Euron was barely over six feet tall and far from being a burly man, Toren's face immediately contorted into a sinister grin. He reached out and grabbed Euron's collar, intending to lift him up like a chicken and toss him away. However, when he exerted his strength, he found that Euron was as immovable as an iron statue rooted to the ground, and he couldn't budge him an inch! The smile on his face instantly froze, replaced by astonishment.

Fishman Karate: Skillful Force

In the instant Toren was stunned, Euron's hand had already seized his wrist with lightning speed. Seemingly without much force, he simply twisted and turned, using the momentum against him, and with a clean, decisive over-the-shoulder throw, he hurled the giant's massive body into the air—

boom!

Its heavy body crashed onto the hard ground three meters away, raising a cloud of dust.

Torren Karstark had never been so humiliated. He spat out the sand in his mouth, let out a furious roar, and leaped up from the ground, charging forward again like an enraged bull!

[Triple Kick] followed by [Storm Kick]

Euron's eyes narrowed, and instead of retreating, he advanced, delivering three swift, low kicks that struck Toren's knees and shins with pinpoint accuracy, disrupting his momentum and causing him excruciating pain and instability. Then, in the instant Toren lost his balance and leaned forward, Euron twisted his waist and unleashed a powerful, razor-sharp gust of wind, striking him squarely in the chest and ribs!

Bang!

With a muffled thud, Toren Karstark's massive body, over two meters tall and weighing more than two hundred kilograms, was sent flying backward by the invisible impact, landing heavily on the ground. Several bloody teeth flew out as he lay there, groaning in pain.

Seeing Toron fall so easily, the people of the North were enraged and swarmed around him, trapping Euron and the Ironborn behind him in the middle, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.

Euron remained calm and composed, his cold gaze sweeping over the approaching Northerners. His voice was steady yet carried an undeniable air of authority: "What, you lost the duel and now you're all swarming me?"

Just as conflict was about to erupt, a calm voice rang out from outside the crowd: "Make way!"

The Northern warriors instinctively parted to make way at the sound. Eddard Stark pushed through the crowd and strode in. His tall, imposing figure exuded an air of commanding authority. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the scene before asking in a deep voice, "What has happened here?"

Euron spat on the ground and raised his chin: "You should ask that Karstark who's still lying on the ground."

At this moment, Toren Karstark, struggling to sit up, was flushed red, a mixture of pain and shame. He shouted gruffly at his lord, "Edward! This has nothing to do with you, mind your own business! I provoked him first, and in a duel—I lost. Let them go!" He still retained some of the toughness of a Northerner, accepting his defeat.

Eddard looked down at Toren, his tone serious and cautionary: "Remember who you are, Toren. Don't embarrass the North here. If you want to prove your courage, the tournament will give you plenty of time to bleed."

Then, Eddard turned to Euron, his tone frank and impartial: "Lord Greyjoy, I apologize for his rude provocation. That's just how the Karstarks are—their voices run faster than their brains."

Euron accepted the apology, nodded, and said calmly, "It's alright. He's learned his lesson. Lord Ed, see you at the tournament." With that, he entered the castle.

After seeing Euron enter the castle, Eddard paused, lowered his voice slightly but loud enough for those around to hear, and said, "His swordsmanship is superior; even Jaime Lannister was defeated by him. If you're not convinced, go to the dueling grounds and fight him!"

The people of the North watched Euron's retreating figure, hoping to defeat him in the arena and avenge this humiliation.