Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 160 Blood and Dance

The reinforcements from the Iron Islands didn't arrive out of nowhere; they were summoned by Tyrion and Ashara.

Just as Euron walked alone toward the Blood Troupe, Tyrion suddenly tugged at Ashara's sleeve.

"Quick!" he whispered urgently, his gaze sweeping over several familiar flags in the distance. "We need to find help, or that little sea monster, your fiancé, will be dead here today!"

Without hesitation, the two turned and ran towards the Iron People's Camp.

They had clearly seen the bone hand flag of the Drum family of Old Wake Island, the hydra flag of Sucliff on Salt Cliff Island, and the fur-patterned flag of Blackteis on Kuroshio Island when they passed through the camp earlier.

Tyrion, panting, gave a brief explanation to Dunstan Drake, who was initially skeptical—no way? Euron fought the infamous Bloody Troupe for a girl selling drinks? One against a hundred?

But the pride of the Iron Islands' shared destiny ultimately outweighed the doubts.

They arrived at just the right time.

In the blink of an eye, hundreds of people lay dead on the spot.

Euron was the one who started it all, and the Iron Islands were the ones who brought it to an end.

Although there have been frequent skirmishes and casualties in the recent martial arts tournaments, these are just minor skirmishes. But such a clean and decisive massacre, in which an entire mercenary group of nearly two hundred people was slaughtered without a single one left alive, is unprecedented.

When the guards of the He'an family finally arrived, the air was thick with the stench of blood and death. The battle was long over; their task was no longer to quell the conflict, but to clean up the mess of corpses scattered everywhere.

Minutes later, before the bodies were completely buried and the blood had even congealed, a group of musicians, trembling, arrived at the blood-stained sand and began to play "The Blazing Flames of Qingting Island."

Listen, listen to the horn of the sea monster echoing in the deep fog—it is a summons, a death knell, for the proud King of Grapes!

Flames scorched the anvil, blood licked the mast; their golden fleet once reigned supreme over all the seas, but now only the overlords of the North Sea and the kings of the deep sea remain. Their story is spread with strong liquor and fear!

If you hear that deep horn sound from the shore, kneel down and pray, or prepare for your demise!

The sunset over Qingting Island dyed the pirate flag red, the king in the flames raised his trident, the flames burned the old god statue, and the Ironborn shouted the name of the new king!

Now only Greyjoy remains! Only the Iron Islands remain!

The eternal victor, the king of the waves!

This song, which had already spread throughout the seven kingdoms, sounds quite different now.

Karstark, standing in the crowd, trembled, secretly relieved that he hadn't drawn his sword, otherwise...

The dead were just a group of notorious mercenaries, and given that the Blood Opera Troupe had provoked them first and violated women, this bloody massacre ultimately did not elicit any accountability.

Upon hearing the news, Earl of He'an was startled by the sudden large-scale fire and broke out in a cold sweat.

Since then, the Earl of He'an ordered the patrols and guards for the tournament to be tripled. Fully armed soldiers patrolled the camps day and night, their sharp eyes scanning every corner, striving to prevent such a horrific incident from happening again.

When Euron returned to the Iron Islands camp, covered in blood and still exuding a murderous aura, he was naturally met with a reprimand.

King Coron gazed at his unruly son, his eyes as complex as the gloomy sea of ​​the Iron Islands. "They are tiles, and you are the jade of Greyjoy." His voice was low, tinged with barely concealed disappointment. "I thought—you wouldn't be as reckless as your impulsive brother."

Baron, who was standing nearby, suddenly flew into a rage. He strode forward and roared, almost pointing his finger at Euron's nose, "This kind of exhilarating thing—you did it all by yourself?! Didn't you know to call me?!"

King Koren glared at Baron, who seemed to thrive on chaos, but the latter just grinned, looking like he hadn't had enough.

Youlun wrung out his undershirt, blood dripping from it, and said in a flat tone as if he were talking about something trivial: "I ran into it, there's nothing I can do about it."

"No way? You make it sound so easy!" King Koren's voice suddenly grew louder, carrying an undeniable authority. "From today onwards, you are not allowed to wander off alone anymore. You will stay by my side and are not allowed to go anywhere."

Euron's lips curled into an enigmatic smile. He chuckled softly and answered with unusual decisiveness, "Hehe, okay."

King Coron wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in disgust, as if trying to dispel the nauseating stench of blood: "Go wash off that bloody smell! There's an important banquet coming up, all the families will be there, don't embarrass me."

Three days before the martial arts tournament begins, Harrenhal has already welcomed dignitaries from all directions.

This great city, which has stood on the shores of the Eye of God since the time of Harren the Blackheart, has witnessed the arrival of almost all the important families of Westeros.

To attend this unprecedented event, nobles and knights set off early, none of them wanting to miss any of the undercurrents that were brewing before the tournament.

As the host, Earl of He'an displayed extravagance befitting his status. For ten consecutive days, he held banquets every night in the main hall, which was said to be aided by demons; however, some attended and some did not, and he never managed to gather all the nobles who had joined the gathering.

The hall was built of massive black stones, its dome so high that it was invisible and hidden in eternal shadow. The ancient tapestries hanging on the cold walls had lost their luster over the years, but the patterns of heroes and beasts on the brocades were still faintly discernible.

Inside the enormous fireplace, the fire burned incessantly, the leaping flames casting distorted and swaying shadows on the stone walls, yet powerless to dispel the chill and dampness deeply embedded in the cracks of the stone.

Tonight's banquet is the most grand ever.

The invitation had already been sent to every prominent nobleman and knight, explicitly requiring "everyone" to be present.

Anyone with a discerning eye can see that amidst the undercurrents before the clash of swords and spears, this banquet is undoubtedly the best social stage, an excellent place to forge alliances, probe each other's strengths and weaknesses, and show off one's power.

As dusk completely swallowed the five menacing, twisted towers of Harrenhal, the grand banquet finally began.

Thousands of candles filled heavy silver candlesticks and brass lamp stands lined the walls, intertwining with the roaring torches to create a dazzling sea of ​​light, illuminating the entire hall as bright as day.

The candlelight danced and flickered on the exquisite silver-plated tableware, carved goblets, and stained glass windows, creating a dazzling spectacle.

The nobles strode into the hall, their dresses rustling and their jade pendants jingling softly.

The ladies were dressed in silk from the East and velvet from the summer islands, their long dresses embroidered with intricate family crests in gold and silver threads, and gems and pearls shimmering around their necks and in their hair, each step releasing a subtle fragrance.

The lord and knights wore exquisitely embroidered coats, leather leggings, and soft boots. Their sword belts were inlaid with dark gems, and their blades were hidden in magnificent scabbards.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasting meat, the intoxicating fragrance of wine, the refreshing scent of burning beeswax, and something more subtle—quiet laughter, weighing words, probing glances, and unspoken witty exchanges, all brewing a silent contest.

On the splendid night before the real showdown, the true battle had already quietly begun amidst toasts and elegant conversation.

Euron had washed away the blood and donned a magnificent golden sea monster costume before entering the hall.