Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 223 The Onion Knight - Davos

The long wait is finally over.

Davos and Salado Sun, as members of a group of ten, followed the flow of people ahead and were led by two expressionless Ironborn guards into the legendary hall at the heart of Blackrock Island.

The scene inside the hall was completely different from the hustle and bustle outside and the sea breeze.

The air was heavy and oppressive, mixed with the scent of incense, old wood, and a faint, almost imperceptible metallic odor. The torches on the massive stone wall crackled, their flickering flames casting long, distorted shadows, as if countless ghosts were dancing on the wall.

At the far end of the hall, behind a simple yet large stone table, sat a young man who seemed out of place in the harsh environment around him. He had delicate features, even a slightly childish one, and a gentle, persistent smile on his lips. His overly bright eyes calmly observed everyone who entered, as if they could see through all pretenses and secrets.

However, what was most unsettling was not the boy himself, but the two figures standing motionless behind him like statues. To the left was a priestess draped in a deep red robe, fiery red hair peeking out from beneath her hood. Her eyes seemed to burn with an inextinguishable flame, radiating an aura of fervor and mystery. To the right was a shadowbinder shrouded in darkness, her face concealed by a mask woven from fine metal plates, revealing only a pair of unfathomable eyes that seemed capable of swallowing light. Her mere presence lowered the surrounding temperature by several degrees.

The smile and the two silent figures created a striking yet eerie scene, causing all the summoners who entered to involuntarily hold their breath.

The procession moved slowly forward, and finally it was the turn of the middle-aged man in the gray robe, who looked slightly nervous. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and spoke in the stern tone characteristic of the Citadel: "I am Royce, a maester of the Citadel. I studied there for twelve years and am well-versed in history and higher mysticism."

The young man behind the table, Euron Greyjoy, seemed to deepen his unchanging smile slightly. His clear gaze swept over the maester, as if he could see through the simple grey robes, and he spoke with a light laugh, his voice gentle yet incisive: "He was exiled, wasn't he?"

The scholar's face flushed crimson instantly. He lowered his head in embarrassment and admitted with difficulty, "Yes, sir."

Euron showed no disdain or reproach. Instead, as if he had heard something interesting, he leaned forward slightly and asked with great interest, "Why? Did you research something forbidden that shouldn't have been researched? Or did you do something—a dangerous and prohibited experiment?"

Surprisingly, the scholar quickly regained his composure when his research was mentioned. He raised his head, his eyes gleaming with an almost obsessive light, and said firmly, "Because I firmly believe in the existence of dragons, not only in the past, but also in the future. I have dedicated my life to studying the physiological structure of these creatures, deducing their survival methods in the world, and—I firmly believe that dragon eggs are not completely dead and can still be hatched. My experiments are based on this."

The hall was silent except for the crackling of the torches. Euron listened quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

A moment later, he let out a soft, ambiguous laugh.

"Dragon egg hatching and dragon breeding—a grand and ancient subject. It's certainly a taboo that the old fogies of the Academy City would never touch." He paused, his interest growing stronger. "However, I'm also very interested in what you've said."

He waved his hand, making his decision: "Very well. Here you have a colleague, also a maester expelled from the Citadel. You're hired; go and work with him first. I'll give you the opportunities and resources you need, and let me see how far your convictions can take you."

Next up was the round-faced Mill merchant who had spoken with Davos and Salado Thorn. He struggled forward, his round face covered in fine beads of sweat that left dark marks on his luxurious velvet collar. He bowed deeply, his voice trembling with nervousness: "Your Excellency—I am from Mill, a glassmaker who runs several small glass workshops."

Euron's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, his tone flat: "Hmm. So, what can you do for me?"

The businessman, seemingly encouraged, quickened his pace: "I—I've mastered a unique glass-working technique, capable of grinding an extraordinary lens! Telescopes made with it can see more than twice as far as the best products available today!"

Euron leaned forward slightly, a hint of genuine amusement creeping into his unchanging smile: "Oh? That's quite something. Why didn't you offer it to the governors of Mill in exchange for riches and glory, but instead traveled all the way across the ocean to present it to me?"

The merchant from Mil wore a bitter smile, sweat pouring down his face even more profusely: "My lord, you are wise—it is because of this invention that I am being hunted down. It is too precious, and too dangerous—I have no other choice but to ask for your protection, and I am willing to offer you this skill, along with everything I have, without reservation."

"Bring it here for us to see." Euron's voice remained calm.

The merchant, feeling as if he had been granted a pardon, hurriedly stepped forward and carefully took out an exquisitely crafted brass telescope from his wide sleeves. He held it high with both hands, bowed his head deeply, and adopted an extremely humble posture.

However, in the blink of an eye, just as the telescope was about to be handed to Euron, that fat and clumsy body suddenly burst forth with a speed and agility completely disproportionate to its size! With a flick of his wrist, he drew a slender, gleaming short sword from the eyepiece of the telescope and thrust it straight at Euron's throat at a cunning and ruthless angle!

The change was so sudden that the people in the hall didn't even have time to exclaim in surprise.

The poisoned sword tip was a hair's breadth from Euron's Adam's apple. But in that instant, Euron moved. His movements were so fast they left only a blurry shadow—one hand gripped the merchant's sword-wielding wrist with the precision of an iron clamp, the sound of bones cracking clearly audible; the other hand's two fingers, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, pierced the merchant's neck with lightning speed, and yanked it out!

Blood splattered. Accompanied by a teeth-grinding tearing sound, a large chunk of flesh, along with broken throat bones and cartilage, was ripped out!

The businessman's face froze instantly, the ecstasy and determination turning into utter horror and disbelief. He tried to breathe, but could only manage a strange, bellows-like sound before collapsing heavily to the ground.

Euron casually flicked the blood off his hands, picked up a clean white silk cloth and wiped his hands as if he were merely brushing away a speck of dust. His tone remained completely unchanged: "Drag him away. The body is fairly intact. Hand it over to Qyburn."

His gaze swept across the queue, calm and undisturbed.

"Next."

Davos and Salado Sun exchanged a quick glance, both seeing the same shock in each other's eyes. Only now did they truly understand where those deep brown, mottled marks on the hall's stone floor came from.

The merchant's body was quickly dragged away; without a doubt, his head would soon become part of that terrifying "Crown of the Sea Corpses." Suppressing their inner tremors, the two stepped forward together.

Davos maintained his usual composure and bowed slightly: "My lord, we come from across the Narrow Sea. I am Davos, a merchant from King's Landing."

Salado Sunn then flashed his usual slightly exaggerated smile and performed a flamboyant curtsy: "I am Salado Sunn, from Ries, and also a humble businessman."

Davos took over the conversation, his tone earnest, trying to evoke a sliver of sympathy: "My lord, we are engaged in the grain trade."

As you know, winter is coming, and this shipment is crucial to the livelihoods of countless people on the other side; it represents our entire fortune. If it cannot reach Westeros on time, we will not only lose everything, but we may also—”

Euron didn't let them finish, calmly interrupting, "So, you've come to ask me for permission for your merchant ships to leave and return to Westeros?"

"That's right, sir." Davos lowered his head, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation.

Euron didn't answer immediately. He turned his head slightly, casting the light towards Evelyn, the Shadowbinder who stood silently behind him like a shadow. A faint glint seemed to flicker in her deep eyes beneath the metal mask. She didn't speak, but a silent exchange had already been completed.

Euron turned back, the faint smile from before vanished, his eyes sharpening like knives, his voice deepening: "She said your identities are not entirely as you claim. At least, not entirely."

He leaned forward, an invisible pressure emanating from him, his icy gaze sweeping between Davos and Salado: "Did you hear that? I'm giving you one last chance. Your true identities—are they really just businessmen?"

His fingers tapped lightly on the table, each tap feeling like a blow to their hearts.

"Remember, I don't care who you were before, but I abhor deception."

Davos took a deep breath, knowing he could no longer hide the truth, and had to admit part of it: "Yes, sir, we haven't told the whole truth. I do come from the flea den of King's Landing, and I am a merchant, but—sometimes I also do smuggling to make a living."

Seeing this, Salado Sun had no choice but to add, his smile somewhat stiff: "From Rees, a merchant—"

He occasionally worked as a mercenary, and even—for a short time—was a pirate.

To their surprise, Euron wasn't angry. Instead, he nodded slightly, as if he had expected this. "What you've done in the past doesn't define who you will be in the future." His gaze swept over the two men, and that enigmatic smile reappeared. "Have you seen my 'recruitment order'? My 'Ice and Fire Merchant Guild' needs experienced captains like you who have traveled far and wide." His gaze specifically fell on Salado Sunn. "Salado Sunn? Does that name have any connection to that famous pirate lord?"

Salado's voice trembled slightly: "He—he is my ancestor."

"Don't be alarmed," Euron's tone was unusually lenient. "I've said I'd forgive and forget. The Ninepenny King's war is a thing of the past." He then shifted his focus back to reality. "You don't need to risk transporting the grain back to Westeros. I'll buy it all at 30% above market price. With the Battle of the Stepstones about to begin and constant skirmishes, even if I allow you to leave, I can't guarantee the safety of the sea routes. There's absolutely no chance your two ships will leave safely."

He leaned forward slightly, his words carrying an irresistible allure: "Whether you've been smugglers or merchants in the past, it's all small-scale stuff. Believe me, the Ice and Fire Merchant Guild can offer you a far broader stage and more opportunities than you could go it alone."

Davos and Salado Sun exchanged a glance and fell into a brief silence. Risks and opportunities raced through their minds.

Finally, Davos cautiously spoke up: "May I ask, sir, why do you—want to recruit people like us?"

Euron laughed, seemingly finding the question amusing. "At a time like this, daring to sail across the Steps Islands with your entire fortune—your courage and audacity surpass most. To give everything for only two ships of grain shows that business wasn't easy and life was frugal." His radiant light seemed to see into their hearts. "You're at your lowest point, yet yearn for a different future. I can provide you with this platform, and your abilities can bring me profit. Isn't this a fair trade?"

He paused, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable ultimatum: "Now is not the time for you to slowly weigh the pros and cons. Tell me, what is your decision?"

Davos and Salado Sun exchanged another glance, seeing the resolve in each other's eyes. They bowed their heads simultaneously and replied clearly, "Thank you for your consideration, sir. We—are willing to serve."

Euron's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He waved his hand casually, as if he had dealt with a trivial matter. "Dagmo," he called, a hint of barely perceptible pleasure in his voice, "you will help settle our new friends. Bring back all the grain from their ships, and pay them every single gold dragon due."

The command was concise and efficient. Then, his own light returned to Davos and Salado Sun, his eyes gleaming with a knowing light that seemed to see into the future.

Standing before him were two men: one who would one day become the renowned Onion Knight, and even rise to the position of Hand of Stannis Baratheon; and the other, a cunning son destined to make waves on the Narrow Sea, writing his own legend as a merchant, mercenary, adventurer, and pirate.

No one could predict how their future would unfold, but at this moment, they all stood beneath Euron Greyjoy's feet.

Even Euron, with his deep and unfathomable nature, felt a genuine sense of satisfaction at having recruited two such exceptionally talented individuals for his "Ice and Fire Merchant Guild" in one fell swoop.

He always felt more pleased by the allegiance of talented people than by simply conquering them.

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