Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 178 I Object—A Slap in the Face to the King

Early in the morning, the regretful Victoria Daniels, showing no regard for privacy whatsoever, pushed open Euron's door. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was Gwendolyn, completely naked except for her red hair, still radiating the fiery passion of the previous night.

Victoria seemed unsurprised by the sight. She merely raised an eyebrow, exchanged a knowing glance with Gwendolyn, and the two even nodded to each other with a strange sense of rapport. Then, with a deft flourish, Victoria tossed the strangely patterned, dark gold seashell Euron had given her earlier precisely at Euron, who was still lounging lazily on the bed. With a cold snort, she turned and left decisively.

Next up was Lisa.

She calmly reported the news she had just received: "We received word last night that several hundred cavalrymen may arrive from King's Landing tomorrow. My lord, we must be wary of the Mad King's actions. Braavos's merchant ships have returned, and Reese's merchant ships returned three days ago—"

As she reported, Lisa's gaze quickly swept over Gwendolyn beside her. She was already used to the presence of this red priestess, but seeing her and Lord Euron in this state still made her feel a slight, indescribable discomfort.

She quickly composed herself and continued in a businesslike tone, "My lord, today's schedule: you will compete in the third round of the spear duel this morning. You have two matches in the individual duels this afternoon. Tonight, there will be the seven-team duel of our Iron Islands." She paused, a hint of barely perceptible teasing in her voice, "After last night—my lord, are your legs still strong today?"

Euron caught the seashell. The competition was about to start, and there was no time to look at the contents of the seashell. He could only carefully put it away first, then got up and quickly dressed, preparing for the day's competition.

He looked at Gwendolyn and said casually, "Since you're here, stay for a few days. After the conference, we'll go back to the Iron Islands together."

Gwendolyn nodded gently.

As Euron adjusted his armor, he casually asked, "Would you like to come with me to watch the tournament, or stay here?"

Gwendolyn shook her head, rational and clear-headed: "My appearance in the stands in this red robe will only bring you unnecessary attention and trouble. It's more appropriate for me to stay here."

Euron smiled, a smile radiating an undeniable confidence: "Such a lively scene, wouldn't it be a shame to miss it? Don't worry, there won't be any trouble. Have you forgotten? Our King already has the Red-Robed Monk Soros, the King of Light, constantly by his side. What difference will one more person make?"

Upon hearing this, Gwendolyn nodded slightly: "Okay."

As mentioned, the later the martial arts tournament progressed, the stronger the remaining contestants became, making each match a true showdown of the best.

Euron's opponent in the jousting today is Jorah Mormont, the leader of House Mormont from Bear Island in the North.

Born in 254 AC, Jorah was at the peak of his youth, physique, and martial arts skills. He was as strong as a mountain, standing there like a black bear clad in steel, his strength and experience not to be underestimated.

With a strength value of only 14 points at this moment, Euron's biggest weakness is undoubtedly that he will be at a disadvantage in a head-on confrontation.

Facing an opponent like Jorah Mormont, who was known for his strength, the terrifying recoil from each clash of gun and shield made his arms go numb, clearly reminding him of his absolute disadvantage in this aspect.

His greatest asset is the unique "super armor" effect granted by the [Skill: Pegasus Dash Iv1], a strange inheritance from the Sky Island. This power doesn't enhance his attacks, but it allows him to be firmly rooted on horseback, making him extremely difficult to be shaken or knocked off by pure impact. This enables him to at least maintain his footing in battles where the strength difference is significant, and to seek opportunities for victory.

Before the match began, Euron wasn't particularly concerned about winning or losing. He had even mentally prepared himself for defeat.

The jousting tournament crown was never part of his plan—in his view, it was in his and the Iron Islands' long-term interests that Prince Rhaegar won this most symbolic championship. The current outcome was merely a casual move in a grand game, a move that could be made or retreated at will.

However, Euron's inherent Iron Islands ferocity and pride compelled him to fight with all his might in this duel, even knowing the advantages and disadvantages. Only by giving his all in a battle could he truly enjoy himself, and only then could he be worthy of his opponent and himself.

Moreover—who dares to say that Euron Greyjoy will definitely be the loser?

On the field, the two horses charged back and forth time and time again! With each heavy impact, Jorah Mormont remained as immovable as a mountain, while Euron was always shaken by the terrifying force, his lance shattering time and time again. However, thanks to the super armor effect of [Pegasus Charge] and his amazing resilience, he managed to withstand the impact time and time again and never fell off his horse!

For a full twelve rounds! Euron was like an iron-gray tree rooted in the raging waves, stubbornly standing on his saddle no matter how fiercely Jorah's northern winds howled, refusing to fall.

Behind this lies the support of the extraordinary power of the Soul-Soul Fruit—it allows him to inject soul energy into his damaged organs, instantly achieving a healing effect, and even temporarily enhancing himself beyond his limits. After each clash, the unbearable recoil, numbness, and minor damage are quickly soothed by the flow of soul power.

Twelve consecutive rounds of all-out attacks failed to secure a victory, leaving Jorah Mormont with aching wrists and immense fatigue. He even felt a genuine admiration for his young opponent, surprised by the astonishing resilience and stamina he possessed.

The thirteenth round!

As the horns sounded again, the entire audience spontaneously rose to their feet with the start of the two warhorses, holding their breath and anticipating the moment of decisive victory.

At this moment, nourished by the power of the Soul-Soul Fruit, Euron's condition was nearly at its peak! Meanwhile, Jorah Mormont, on the other side, had already exhausted most of his strength. Euron noticed Jorah Mormont's heavy breathing beneath his helmet and the slightly trembling muscles in his arm gripping his lance—he was nearing his limit!

This will be the final round—the Soul-Soul Fruit—which allows one to infuse their body with their soul to strengthen themselves. 500 souls were infused.

Add Soul Points, Strength +5. Euron instantly felt a surge of power, enough to kill a bull with a single punch.

In the blink of an eye, Euron's lance seized the critical moment and precisely pierced Jorah Mormont's breastplate!

This time, the immense power finally erupted completely.

Jorah Moore grunted, unable to maintain his balance any longer. He was thrown into the air by the enormous impact and tumbled heavily off his horse!

The entire stadium erupted in a deafening roar of cheers! The sound almost lifted the Harrenhalle stands. No one had expected that this eleven-year-old Iron Islands boy could actually challenge Jorah Mormont, renowned for his strength and bravery in the North.

On the stands, even the most favored top fighters in this spear duel—Barristan Selmy the Dauntless, Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning, and even Prince Rhaegar Targaryen himself—couldn't suppress their obvious shock. They knew Jorah Mormont's strength better than the average spectator, and they understood more deeply the terrifying endurance and unwavering will required to fight him for thirteen rounds and ultimately win.

Euron Greyjoy displayed a resilience far beyond his years, an almost frightening tenacity.

King Aerys II rose from his throne and shouted a piercing cheer: "Euron Greyjoy! Come forward! Let me see this valiant young man of the Iron Islands!"

Euron immediately felt alarmed. The scene of Jaime Lannister being publicly appointed as a member of the Kingsguard yesterday was still fresh in his mind—could it be that the Mad King also wanted to do the same to him?

However, with the king issuing a summons and everyone watching, proper etiquette could not be disregarded.

He did as instructed and rode forward, nimbly dismounting before the throne. He removed his helmet, bowed slightly, and his black hair, soaked with sweat, clung to his forehead: "Your Majesty flatters me."

Queen Iris II scrutinized him with her eyes, which flickered with an unsteady light, and said repeatedly, "Good, very good! You are the second son of King Coron, aren't you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Euron replied succinctly and cautiously.

"I've heard of your deeds," Iris's voice held an exaggerated admiration, "Brave in battle, intelligent and resourceful, with extraordinary courage—it's said you crossed the Narrow Sea alone at the age of seven, earning you the title of 'Son of the Drowned God' from many. And then there's the Platinum Sands, the trade of the Ice and Fire Merchant Guild, and the currently popular Kraken Wine—the Iron Islands will surely be great because of you!"

"Your Majesty, you flatter me," Euron replied humbly again, but inwardly he grew increasingly wary.

As expected, Aerys II abruptly changed the subject, his gaze suddenly turning to King Coron in the stands. His voice rose sharply, carrying an undeniable air: "Coron! In my opinion, he is the most deserving heir to the Iron Islands, even if he is only the second son. I have decided to designate Euron Greyjoy as the rightful heir to the Iron Islands. What do you say?"

Upon hearing this, King Coron slammed his hand on the armrest and abruptly stood up, his voice as cold as the seawater of the Iron Islands: "No! Your Majesty! The heir to the Iron Islands is my eldest son, Balon! This has already been announced to the seven kingdoms, and everyone knows it!"

"It can be changed even if it's been announced!" Iris II waved his hand arrogantly, as if shooing away a fly.

"The successor to the Iron Islands shall be decided by the Ironborn themselves!" King Coron declared resolutely, his voice firm and unwavering. "This is a matter for House Greyjoy and all the lords of the Iron Islands! Even you, as king, have no right to interfere!"

Seeing Coron's firm stance, Aerys II turned his burning, seductive gaze to Euron, attempting to break through his defenses: "Euron, tell me yourself! Do you think you are capable of sitting on that Seastone throne and becoming the King of the Iron Islands?"

All eyes instantly focused on Euron, fearing a repeat of what happened to Jaime Lannister yesterday.

Euron remained calm and composed, his voice clear and firm, without the slightest hesitation: "Your Majesty, this has nothing to do with ability! My brother Balon Greyjoy is the rightful heir to the throne of the Iron Islands, without a doubt! His abilities and talents are recognized by the entire Iron Islands and our Greyjoy family."

Euron paused slightly, maintaining a polite tone on the surface, but with an undeniable resolve in his voice: "But I still thank His Majesty for his favor and kindness. The matter of succession is an internal affair of my Greyjoy family, following the ancient traditions and laws of the Iron Islands, and is not open to outsiders."

He paused, a hint of a provocative smile appearing on his face, and slowly added, "Just as all the nobles throughout the Seven Kingdoms have never questioned that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen rightfully deserves to inherit the Iron Throne! This is a Targaryen family matter, just as it is a Greyjoy family matter."

These words, like a precisely thrown dagger, instantly pierced King Iris II's most sensitive and frenzied nerve. The king's face flushed crimson with rage, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, his withered fingers gripping the armrests of his throne tightly, his voice shrill and distorted: "You—how dare you—"

Euron ignored the king's raging fury, bowed gracefully once more, and said in a chillingly calm tone, "I'm just stating the facts. If Your Majesty has nothing else to say, I'll take my leave." With that, before the king could erupt again, he turned away decisively and calmly, leaving amidst a deathly silence and countless shocked gazes.

Now that Euron Greyjoy's match was over, the Iron Islands people did not linger. They silently and quickly packed up their kraken flags and belongings, and left their seats one by one, retreating from the noisy stands like the receding tide.

They refused to look at the mad king on the throne any longer. Every extra moment they lingered over his repulsive, insane face, his capricious decrees, and his blatant attempts to sow discord that even a dog could see filled them with unbearable disgust and unease.

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