Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 164 Opening Ceremony – The Mad King Arrives!

Today marks the official opening of the martial arts tournament.

The morning light had not yet completely dispelled the thin mist over Harrenhal, but outside the city walls, the place was already bustling with noise, far more so than usual.

All the participating knights, nobles who had traveled from afar, and commoners who came to witness the grand event rose earlier than usual, gathering in a dense mass at the massive city gate, the air thick with an impatient restlessness.

The heavy city gate was slowly pushed open with the groan of its hinges, and the crowd surged like a burst dam towards the magnificent grandstand area that had already been erected outside the city, eagerly anticipating the exciting start of the long spear duel.

The crowd did not wait for the host of the martial arts tournament, Earl of He'an, to appear and announce the opening of the tournament.

Instead, a deep, rhythmic rumble of thunder rolled in from the direction of the distant King's Road.

The sound grew clearer as it approached, a deafening roar that could only be produced by hundreds of warhorses galloping at the same time, the billowing dust rising like yellow clouds sweeping across the ground.

A flag suddenly appeared in the dust and smoke—embroidered on a pitch-black background was a ferocious, roaring, blood-red three-headed dragon.

A suppressed gasp and whispers immediately rose from the stands.

Prince Rhaegar was already seated in the VIP section, so the one who arrived at this moment, bearing the Targaryen royal banner, could only be one person—King Aerys II, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

The heavy hooves approached like thunder, and a squad of royal guards in gleaming armor and with stern expressions galloped in first, forcefully clearing the main road leading to the stands with an undeniable aura.

Three trumpeters raised their gilded trombones and blew them out with all their might.

"Waaah!"

"Waaah"

Three long, solemn horn blasts tore through the air, an undisputed signal of the king's arrival, instantly drowning out all other noises, and an invisible pressure enveloped the entire arena.

Before the echoes of the bugle call had faded, a herald clad in a cloak of royal coat of arms rode forward, took a deep breath, and proclaimed in a booming, crystal-clear voice to the silent crowd: "The King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men! Head of House Targaryen! Protector of the Realm! Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms! His Majesty King Aerys Targaryen II has arrived! Make way!"

The moment the announcement was made, the entire scene fell into an almost frozen, absolute silence, as if time itself had been frozen by the king's authority.

The next moment, like a tide washing over a beach, the commoners present knelt down in awe, heads bowed, not daring to look directly at him. All the nobles, regardless of their families, rose in unison, bowing or nodding in greeting.

In this solemn silence and submission, Aerys II's carriage moved slowly forward. Among his guards, the most striking figure was a group of Kingsguard in white robes. Their pure white armor gleamed in the morning light, their snow-white cloaks immaculate, like moving snow-capped mountains—symbols of absolute military power and unquestionable guardians of Targaryen authority.

The nobles in the stands looked at each other, their eyes filled with astonishment and disbelief.

A rare shadow crossed Tywin Lannister's usually calm face; Robert Baratheon's rugged brows furrowed, as if he were seeing a very unpleasant vision; Jon Arryn and Rickard Stark exchanged a heavy look; and King Corinth narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp as an eagle's.

Even Prince Rhaega, who should know his father best, was caught off guard and looked shocked and bewildered.

This was the first time His Majesty the King had left the impregnable Red Keep in five years since the rebellion in Duskvalley. His arrival was completely unexpected; he had not revealed any intention to attend the tournament beforehand, nor had any news of it leaked from King's Landing.

Lord Tywin Lannister quickly suppressed all outward emotions, turned slightly to Jon Arryn beside him, and whispered in a voice so soft it was almost a breath: "Let's wait and see." His gaze then swept over the still-frozen Earl of River Ann, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, and he said in a low voice with an undeniable urgency: "The King has arrived, why don't you, as his host, go forward to greet him?"

Count Heaney seemed to snap out of a daze. He hurriedly straightened his robes and almost stumbled to the king's carriage. He bowed deeply, his voice trembling slightly with nervousness: "His Majesty's presence is an unparalleled honor for Harrenhal and the Heaney family! May your radiance bathe this grand occasion!"

A servant quickly stepped forward and opened the ornately decorated carriage door.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the carriage, standing atop a high place. His cold and disdainful gaze swept over the kneeling Earl of He'an, and he let out a cold snort that was hard to decipher: "Get up."

When the king's true face was fully revealed in the autumn sunlight, almost everyone who witnessed it gasped.

His appearance was almost horrifying: his fingernails were long and yellow, twisted like bird claws; his beard was greasy and matted, tangled like a tangled mess; his long, gray hair had not been combed in a long time, and clumps of it hung down like ropes; his deep, dark purple eye circles were sunken, enveloping a pair of eyes filled with bloodshot madness—every detail was incredibly direct, even terrifying, indicative of the nickname that had already spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms: "The Mad King".

When Euron's gaze finally pierced through the white-robed guards and landed clearly on Aerys II himself, even the well-traveled Euron felt an unprecedented sense of speechlessness.

The only highlight of his entire outfit was the enormous, exquisite, dragon-patterned crown he wore, a heirloom from Aegon IV.

Those who had never had the chance to see the king's face before, who had been craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the true Son of Heaven, were now stunned into silence, their jaws nearly dropping.

Is this their king?

The entire venue fell into a suffocating silence, with the only sound being the wind whistling through the fluttering flags.

King Iris II suddenly burst into a sharp and abrupt laugh, breaking the silence: "Count of He'an, you are truly extravagant!" His voice carried an exaggerated praise, yet also carried a chilling undertone: "Such a grand tournament, such a high prize for the champion—"

Before he could finish speaking, the smile on his face vanished like a candle flame extinguished by a cold wind, instantly turning grim. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Earl He'an, and his voice suddenly became sharp and full of suspicion: "Where on earth did you get so much money?!"

The Earl of He'an's back was instantly soaked with cold sweat. He suppressed his panic and replied respectfully, "Your Majesty, this is the meager savings of my family over several decades, dedicated solely to ensuring the success of this grand event and bringing glory to the royal family. I humbly request Your Majesty to take the seat and preside over the opening ceremony for us."

Iris II gave him a cold glance, a strange smile playing on his lips. "No need!" He waved his hand, its nails yellowed and twisted. "Just proceed according to your original procedures!"

After saying that, he ignored everyone and, under the close protection of the Imperial Guards, walked straight to the most prominent position in the center of the arena, as if that was the only place worthy of his status.