Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 201 The Pursuit of the King

The combined team quietly set off at dusk, before the tournament had fully concluded, the twilight draping them in a cloak of secrecy.

As the lights of Harrenhal began to illuminate the city and the final feast grew more boisterous, the procession disappeared down the road to the south, deliberately avoiding the grand closing ceremony that night.

The following morning, before the soft light had completely dispelled the chill of the night, Varys the Spider arrived at the king's bedchamber with light, quick steps. In his characteristic, melodious voice, he reported to Aerys II: "Your Majesty, there is something I must report: Princess Elia left Harrenhal last night with the Dornish army."

The king's reaction was like a wildfire ignited. Aerys II abruptly rose from his seat, his pale face contorted with rage, his withered fingers gripping the armrests of the throne so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He roared hoarsely, his voice filled with provoked fury—although he had long intended to dissolve Rhaegar and Elia's engagement, it had to be done according to his will, under his control.

Elia is not only a princess, but also an important hostage he uses to control Dorne. How could he allow her to escape his control so easily?

Enraged, the king immediately ordered the release of ravens, sending an urgent message straight to King's Landing. The message commanded the city's garrison to immediately dispatch its elite forces to intercept Princess Elia before she arrived in Dorne, at all costs, and to bring her back to the Red Keep.

"Bring her back!" The king's scream echoed through the halls of the Red Keep. "No one can escape the king's control like this!"

The king ultimately overestimated his prestige, the obedience of the nobles of the seven kingdoms to his fickle orders, and the ineffective fighting capabilities of the capital's garrison.

Before the ferocity of Storm's End, the sharpness of Dorne, and the wildness of the Iron Islands, the magnificent golden robes were like a fragile piece of parchment, easily torn apart. The nearly one hundred gleaming armored and impeccably dressed city guards were as vulnerable as straws before the elite troops who had been baptized by the mountains of corpses and seas of blood at Harrenhal.

The battle began abruptly and ended even more quickly.

Almost in the blink of an eye, the once arrogant golden-robed men were annihilated, leaving behind only a mess of corpses and broken weapons, silently telling the story of the king's miscalculation and the true gap in strength.

Euron rode up to Wenda's side and said sincerely, "Thank you for your help."

Wenda wiped the blood from the blade, replying without looking up, "You spared my life in the duel, so this is how I repay you." Her voice was calm and even. "We're even now."

Euron noticed she was alone and asked, "If I'm not mistaken, you're probably a member of the Kingsguard?"

Wenda immediately raised her eyes, a hint of wariness flashing in them: "So what if it is, so what if it isn't? What's it to you?"

Euron chuckled dismissively and shook his head. "The Kingsguard Brotherhood, formerly known as the Smiling Knight, committed numerous atrocities and was long ago wiped out by Arthur Dayne. The Brotherhood is now merely a shell of its former self. Why not join us?"

Wenda scoffed, "That madman doesn't represent us. We never kill the innocent, much less bully the weak." After saying this, she gave Euron no more chances to persuade her, turned around and nimbly disappeared into the depths of the dense forest. In a few leaps, she vanished without a trace, leaving Euron looking thoughtfully in the direction she disappeared.

While clearing the battlefield, the Ironborn found a sealed letter inside the bloodstained lining of Jeslin Bywatt's breastplate.

The sealing wax with the raven feather imprint had been torn off, indicating that the letter had clearly been read long before their arrival.

On the parchment, Aerys II's frantic and sharp handwriting was clearly visible, the ink seemingly still carrying the mad king's obsession and anxiety: "Take Elijah and Rhaenys back to the Red Keep in King's Landing."

"Those who dare to obstruct—"

'

"Kill without mercy!"

These three short lines, however, were as sharp as iron, imbued with an unquestionable and cruel royal decree. There was no salutation, no signature, only the simplest and coldest command, much like the increasingly hysterical style of the Mad King in recent years.

Euron handed the letter to Oberyn, who was standing nearby. The Prince of Dorne glanced at the words, and a suppressed rage instantly flared in his bloodshot eyes. This letter undoubtedly confirmed their worst fears: Aerys II had never intended for Elia to leave peacefully.

The Ironmen swiftly dragged the golden-robed man's body into the dense forest beside the road, casually covering it with broken branches and withered grass. The bloodstains on the ground were quickly covered by freshly turned soil, and soon, the traces of this brief conflict became blurred and indistinct in the shadows of the forest.

Euron said gravely, "I think we must hasten our journey. If they don't return soon, the next group of Golden Robes will be following us."

Upon hearing this, Robert burst into a hearty laugh: "That was satisfying! Damn, that was a good kill!" He wiped the bloodstains from his face, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. "I've been holding back this anger for so long, and finally, I've gotten a little bit out of it!"

Oberyn calmly replied, "Let's set off as soon as possible. If the Mad King asks later, we'll say that these people were killed by Dorne."

Robert's eyes widened instantly, and he roared, "Damn it! You think I'm afraid of that mad king?"

"Not at all," Oberyn shook his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over Robert's magnanimous face, and smiled, "This is merely a matter between us in Dorne; we shouldn't drag trouble into Stormlands. Dorne will remember your help!"

Oberyn handed the bloodstained letter to Ilya. Ilya took the letter, her fingertips inadvertently touching the still-wet bloodstains. The dark brown stains seemed to carry the aura of death, making her stomach churn. She abruptly covered her mouth, letting out a suppressed gag, her thin body trembling slightly.

"What's wrong?" Oberon leaned down with concern. "Is the smell of blood too strong?"

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Ilya shook her head weakly, unable to speak. Arianne immediately stepped forward and took her aunt's arm, saying softly, "Let me help you back to the carriage to rest." She carefully guided Ilya towards the carriage, not forgetting to give Oberyn a reassuring look.

The carriage curtain fell, shutting out the bloodshed and chaos of the outside world. Oberyn glanced in the direction of the carriage, his brow furrowed slightly, then turned and ordered, "Continue on your way!"

The caravan set off again, the sounds of hooves and wheels filling the air once more, carrying people with their own thoughts and concerns towards Windbreak Keep, leaving the forest that had just been ravaged by blood far behind.

The carriage moved forward with a bumpy ride, the curtains cutting the outside light into tiny specks that flickered inside the carriage.

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