Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 220 Four Directives

While Marin the Bloodhand was struggling to assemble his pirate alliance, Euron Greyjoy remained calmly seated on Blackrock Island, like a hunter waiting for his prey to bleed.

Euron did not rush to advance, but instead, in a more profound and insidious way, he transformed his will into four ironclad laws, which spread like a plague to every dark corner and every pirate lair of the Steppes through prisoners, fugitives, and deliberately released messengers.

First, the call to arms. The news swept through the hearts of all Ironborn like a cold wind: Any citizen of the Iron Islands who dares to oppose the Iron Islands or defy their will will be considered a heretic who has betrayed the Drowned God. Their soul will be permanently banished, and after death, they will be forbidden from entering the Drowned God's Temple of Flowing Water. Not only will they themselves never be allowed to return to their homeland, but their parents and siblings will also be implicated, banished from the Iron Islands, and forever exiled. However, if a prodigal son is willing to turn back and return to the command of Blackrock Island, his past sins may be mitigated according to his merits in battle.

Second, the pledge of allegiance. This is a bloodthirsty invitation to all those struggling to survive at sea: regardless of who you have served or what blood debts you bear, all you need to do is bring the head of a member of the pirate alliance—whether a leader or a henchman—as a stepping stone to join the Iron Fleet. In the future, wealth and glory will be shared with us.

Third, the Call to Arms. This decree transcended the boundaries of birth and past, dropping a thunderbolt into a rigidly hierarchical world: whether you are a nobleman or a slave, a prostitute or a corpse retriever, a scholar or an executioner, as long as you possess unique skills and abilities that can be used by the Iron Islands, the Iron Islands await you with open arms. Here, only ability determines heroism, and only contribution determines rank.

Fourth, the kill order. This is the final and most ruthless ultimatum: those who oppose the Iron Islands will face no mercy, only death. Their corpses will become the building blocks of the next "Crown of Sea Corpses." Anyone who violates the authority of the Iron Islands, no matter where they hide, will be pursued to the ends of the earth and annihilated!

These four orders, like four invisible blades, precisely severed the foundation of the pirate alliance, intimidating the weak-willed and recruiting the ambitious, burying the seeds of fear and self-interest deep in this bloody soil.

On the same day, before sunset.

The Golden Rose Fleet of Qingting Island finally arrived in the waters of Black Rock Island, its white sails forming a stark and somber contrast with the black sail fleet of the Iron Islands.

As the flagship drew near the dock, the "Crown of the Sea Corpses," constructed from countless heads, burst into the view of all the Redwin soldiers without any concealment, and an instinctive fear and nausea instantly gripped them.

A strong stench of decay mixed with the fishy smell of the sea assaulted the senses, and the hollow eye sockets and distorted expressions created a hellish scene under the blazing sun.

The sailors on deck turned pale, and many immediately bent over, unable to stop themselves from vomiting. The sour smell immediately filled the fresh sea breeze.

Although Earl Paxter Redwin himself did not lose his composure, his knuckles were white from gripping the ship's railing so tightly that his usually ruddy and prosperous face was now completely drained of color, as pale as paper, and his eyes were filled with undisguised shock and horror.

"Ha! Look at these roses, they've already wilted before they even smell real blood!" Baron Greyjoy's gruff laughter rang out without any politeness, carrying the barbarity and sarcasm unique to the Ironborn.

Prince Oberon leaned lazily to one side, a playful smile curving his lips. His voice, though not loud, was clear enough to be heard: "Perhaps the fine wines of Qingting Island are nourishing, but they can't cultivate an appetite for appreciating—uh—works of art." His gaze swept contemptuously over the soldiers who were still dry heaving.

Amidst the chaos and jeers, Euron Greyjoy moved forward silently, like a ghost. He didn't join in the mockery; instead, he put his arm around Paxter Redwyn's stiff shoulder, a gesture that was intimate yet carried an undeniable sense of oppression.

Euron smiled at Earl Redwin, his voice low and steady, as if discussing the weather rather than the horrific scene before him: "You've come at just the right time, my Earl." His tone even carried a hint of warmth. "Let the sea breeze wash away the weariness of your journey. The real show will begin in a few days."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the still-shaken soldiers of Qingting Island, and raised his voice to make sure everyone could hear him: "Let the brothers of Qingting Island rest well and recharge their energy. The upcoming feast will require you all to drink together." His words sounded like concern, but against the backdrop of the terrifying mound of corpses, they were more like an unyielding, velvet-wrapped, iron-clad command.

Euron's four orders were like ice cubes thrown into boiling oil, instantly causing an uproar on the lawless Steps Islands. The effects were swift and brutal, far exceeding any traditional naval battle.

Where the order was given, fear and opportunity spread like a plague.

Those pirate captains, who already led their fleets alone and whose blood flowed with the saltwater of the Iron Islands, hardly hesitated. They raised their black sails, adjusted their course, and sailed without hesitation toward Blackrock Island. For them, this was not a choice, but a homecoming. The call of the son of the drowning god and their longing for their homeland overwhelmed any fragile loyalty to the pirate alliance.

For the Ironborn aboard ships belonging to other pirate alliance leaders, the night became the perfect cover for betrayal. Cold daggers were silently drawn, their blades pressed against the throats of those "comrades" they had drunk and boasted with just yesterday. Many pirate leaders, either in their sleep or when completely unprepared, had their throats slit by the Ironborn sailors they had long since silenced. Their heads were expertly severed, lightly treated with lime, becoming the bloodiest and most effective "pledge of allegiance" offered by the defectors to their new masters. These rebels then sailed in small boats, or even seized entire warships, heading without hesitation towards the shadows of Blackrock Island.

More commonly, there were the Ironborn, scattered like seeds among the various pirate groups, large and small, on the Steppes. They might have been ordinary sailors, oarsmen, or combatants. At this moment, the call of faith and the harsh family rules became an irresistible force.

They broke away from their original groups, disregarding obstacles and even pursuit, and tried every means to rejoin the Iron Islands fleet.

In an instant, countless pirate crews were thrown into a state of panic and their strength was greatly diminished. They cast suspicious and fearful glances at anyone who spoke with an Iron Islands accent.

After all, there can be countless pirate crews; one may pledge allegiance to Marin today and join another tomorrow. But in the Iron Islands, there is only one true home.

Euron Greyjoy, his title "Son of the Drowned God" and those chilling legends, had long been deeply ingrained in the ears and hearts of every Ironborn, carried on the sea breeze and the whispers of merchants.

At this moment, he was not only their commander, but also almost an incarnation of a god who brought salvation or destruction.