Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 203 Prince of Red Flower Valley—Jalaba Sol

The procession finally emerged from the shelter of the Royal Guard, passed through the imposing walls of the Bronze Gate, and finally arrived at Windbreak Castle, which stands majestically on the cape.

Robert Baratheon, with the zeal of a Stormlands lord, urged everyone to rest in the castle, but the alliance between Dorne and the Iron Islands politely declined his offer.

They rested for only one night at Storm's End, and at dawn the next day they boarded a ship bound for Dorne.

The ship cut through the deep blue waves of Shipwreck Bay and made a brief stop at Tas Island.

As dusk fell once more, Brienne stood at the harbor of Twilight Hall, watching the ships sail into the distance. Her shadow stretched long in the setting sun, lingering there for a long time.

The ship continued south, heading towards Sunspear, Dorne. Its bow cleaved the golden waves of the summer sea, each jolt carrying Elia further from the past and closer to her homeland.

The sea breeze gradually warmed, and the air began to carry the scents of desert and spices, reminding everyone that Dorne was not far away.

When the ship finally entered the open sea, Euron lay alone on the deck, letting his body rise and fall gently with the waves, and only then did he truly feel a long-lost sense of security. The stars in the night sky seemed within reach, and the sea breeze gently caressed his face, carrying a salty and familiar scent.

Above this boundless blue expanse, he reigns supreme. No matter how many pursuers King's Landing sends, no matter how furious the Mad King becomes, once at sea, this is Euron Greyjoy's domain. He knows every ocean current and can predict every shift in wind direction as if he knew the lines on his own palm. And there are his friends swimming in the ocean depths; here, any threat from land seems so insignificant and laughable.

Unexpectedly, the pursuing forces of King's Landing were nowhere to be seen until the ship had sailed far out to sea from the storm. Perhaps the Mad King finally realized how futile it was to chase the captain of the Iron Islands on the vast ocean; or perhaps there were still some rational ministers in the court who dissuaded this doomed pursuit.

As the ship sailed through the rugged waters of the Stone Steps Islands, shouts from the lookout suddenly rang out. Following the direction, everyone looked and saw a lone boat drifting with the current, with a brightly colored figure waving vigorously at them from the boat.

It was a tall, imposing man who stood as if walking on flat ground in the swaying boat. Most striking was his incredibly luxurious cloak, meticulously woven from rare red and green feathers, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight. His skin was as dark as the deepest hour of midnight, a typical characteristic of the people of the Midsummer Islands. A magnificent feathered cloak billowed on his shoulders, like a rare bird poised for flight.

As the small boat drew closer, the man in the feathered cloak of the Midsummer Islands revealed his snow-white teeth and a smile that was both weary and relieved, as if he had finally seen the dawn of hope after drifting on the endless sea.

When the Summer Isles man spoke, he spoke fluent Westeros Common with an exotic accent: "In the name of the Lord of Light! I am Jalabah Thal, the rightful prince of Redflower Valley in the Summer Isles."

Oberyn's lips curled into a half-smile: "A prince? Let me guess—was he defeated in your famous 'Ceremony War' and then exiled?"

Jalabar Thord immediately straightened his back, his dark face even more solemn with excitement: "Those are traitors! I am preparing to go to King's Landing to ask the great Targaryen king for gold and sword, and I will surely reclaim my glory and throne!"

Euron laughed out loud upon hearing this, his laughter sounding particularly mocking in the sea breeze: "Ask King Iris for help?"

Believe me, my friend, all you'll likely get is a face full of sour wine and a "get out of my sight" message.

Jalabar Sole was stunned. His magnificent feather cloak trembled slightly in the sea breeze, as if it too was uneasy about its owner's sudden bewilderment.

The arrival of this dark-skinned stranger drew the attention of everyone on board. Ashara and Arianne, along with Ilya and little Rhaenys, also emerged from their cabin and came onto the deck. Jalabah Thal's magnificent cloak, woven from red and green feathers, fluttered in the sea breeze, making him resemble a giant tropical bird that had landed on the deck.

The prince from the Summer Islands seemed completely unconcerned about being the center of attention. Instead, he politely nodded to everyone, his pearly white teeth standing out against his dark skin, exuding an innate aristocratic air.

One-year-old Rhaenys opened her wide, violet eyes, filled with curiosity about the suddenly appearing "big birdman." She giggled, toddling around Jalabar Thal, occasionally reaching out her tiny hands to touch his magnificent feather cloak. Each time a feather gently brushed her face, she let out a silvery laugh, her innocent joy infectious to everyone present.

Upon seeing this, Jalabar Sole gracefully knelt on one knee so that the little princess could have a better view of his cloak.

A gentle light shone in his eyes, as if he had found a rare warmth and joy in this unfamiliar sea.

This was the first time in many days that Euron had seen Ilya so clearly. She stood in the morning light on the deck, her face paler than he remembered, as if a stronger sea breeze could blow her away. When she noticed Euron's self-light, their eyes met briefly in the air, and then Ilya lowered her eyes uncomfortably, her long eyelashes casting fragile shadows on her pale cheeks.

Euron took a step forward, the sea breeze ruffling the hem of his dark robes. "Princess Ilya," his voice was much gentler than usual, "are you feeling better?"

Ilya instinctively raised her hand to tuck a strand of hair, blown by the sea breeze, behind her ear. Even this simple gesture seemed to take considerable effort. "Much better," she replied softly, her voice almost blending into the sound of the waves. "Thank you for your concern."

She never looked up to meet his eyes, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the wood grain of the railing. The air between them seemed to freeze, filled only by the cries of seagulls and the sound of waves crashing against the boat.

Ilya didn't linger on the deck. The sea breeze carried a damp, salty smell, and she shivered slightly before turning and returning to her cabin. Her pale figure disappeared into the depths of the corridor, as if she had never been there.

Euron's gaze shifted to Jalabah Thal, surrounded by the crowd. The prince of the Summer Isles was waving his jeweled arms, recounting tales of distant lands, eliciting gasps of wonder from time to time. Euron's fingertips unconsciously tapped the ship's hull, a glint of light flashing in his eyes—this exiled prince might become an unexpected pawn in a larger game.

To onlookers, Euron appeared to be simply leaning against the ship's railing, lost in thought. Two pink dolphins were chasing the ship, leaping and splashing through the waves, their clear, melodious calls creating cheerful ripples on the azure sea.

Unbeknownst to Euron, his mind was racing: what would the Iron Islands gain if they supported Jalabah Thal to regain control of the Summer Islands? An ally on a vital trade route? A strategic location to resupply the fleet? Or perhaps—a springboard to even more distant lands?

The sea breeze ruffled his dark hair, and his eyes reflected the endless sea and boundless ambition.