Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 227 Reactions from All Parties

The devastating outcome of the naval battle, almost instantly upon its conclusion, swept across every corner of the Stone Steps Archipelago like a plague-laden sea breeze.

The message traveled at an alarming speed through surviving small boats, through keen merchant ship lookouts, and through spies lurking in the shadows, causing unprecedented tremors and fear in every lair, every port, and every fortress.

The core content is concise yet terrifying: Euron Greyjoy, the "Son of the Drowned God" of the Iron Islands, did not rely on traditional fleets and swords, but instead rode an unstoppable deep-sea behemoth that existed only in ancient legends, crushing the massive pirate alliance in the waters of Grey Gallows with absolute overwhelming force.

Marin "Bloody Hand," the once invincible pirate king who symbolized the old order, and his ally "Skull King" Mor Bonewhistle, are now prisoners and will be publicly executed on Blackrock Island in seven days.

The next day, the "attendance notice," marked with a black sail and concise yet weighty wording, was delivered to all the leaders of the forces who considered themselves to have a place in the Stone Steps Islands.

To go or not to go?

For anyone with even a shred of survival instinct, this seems like a trivial matter. The meaning of rejection is self-evident; those five ever-growing "Crowns of Sea Bones" are the clearest warning imaginable.

The real problem that had been weighing on the minds of the leaders, keeping them up at night, quietly transformed into:

What kind of gifts should they bring to congratulate the new king, crowned with blood and fire, on his official debut, in a way that is grand enough, humble enough, and sincere enough?

In the dimly lit and oppressive cabin, news of the bloody naval battle haunted every surviving pirate captain like a ghost.

The air was so heavy it seemed you could wring water out of it, and fear was etched on every pale face. Just then, Pirate Captain Edwin Ramirez slowly stroked his curly beard, a cryptic smile playing on his lips, breaking the deathly silence: "To go or not to go?" His voice wasn't loud, but it struck a chord deep within everyone's hearts. "That's a question you should ask yourselves—do you still want to stay on the Steps Isles?"

His words were like a cold needle, piercing the panic that permeated the cabin. The captains, who had been trembling and immersed in the terrifying memories of the behemoth tearing apart the warship, involuntarily raised their heads and looked at him with complex expressions.

Edwin chuckled softly and continued, his tone as if stating a simple fact: "It's simple. If you don't go, it's tantamount to telling the Son of the Drowning God that you don't deserve a place on this sea." He paused, then added meaningfully, "And usually, those who are unworthy of existence are completely erased."

A captain with a scar on his face asked in a trembling voice, "But...but what if he says we were once part of the pirate alliance and he wants to execute us along with Marin?"

Edwin shook his head, appearing confident. "No. That lord has already declared the war over. Besides, don't forget," he glanced around, his voice deliberately emphasizing, "that before the war even began, we wisely withdrew from Marin's foolish alliance. Now, we are the new pirate alliance." He spread his hands, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Since the war is over, why would the victors bother with us 'unrelated' bystanders? The birth of a new king always requires a matching magnanimity and breadth of vision, doesn't it?"

Another captain, his eyes darting around, seized the opportunity to speak, his tone clearly enticement and probing: "Edwin, you are now the Pirate King of our new alliance! Of course, you should go as our representative!"

Edwin raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening, and asked with a hint of mockery, "Me? The new Pirate King?"

When did this happen? How come I don't know about it?

Before he finished speaking, almost all the captains in the cabin seemed to have found their leader, and they shouted in unison, "From the moment you led us out of that deadly place, you have been our king!"

Edwin Ramirez's gaze slowly swept over the faces of those eager to seek refuge yet unwilling to take risks. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded, his tone becoming steady and decisive: "Very well, since you all so favor me—then I shall be this representative. I am also eager to witness the birth of a new king of the Stone Steps Islands." He changed the subject, lightly tapping his fingers on the table, "However, this gift for the new king—"

The captains exchanged glances and immediately volunteered, "We'll take care of it! We'll definitely prepare a generous gift!"

Across the Narrow Sea, the three free trade city-states of Tyros, Lys, and Myr—which had been briefly unified and known as the "Kingdom of the Three Daughters"—have long since split up again, with their mutual suspicion and competition never ceasing.

However, on the Stone Steps Islands, a sea full of opportunities and dangers, they maintain a peculiar and mutually beneficial alliance: their combined fleet and representatives still share the name "Three Daughters Alliance," firmly occupying the strategic location of Bloodstone Island, and extracting massive amounts of gold coins from the trade of passing merchant ships and their coercive "pricing power" by relying on their powerful military force and commercial network.

The epic battle between the Pirate Alliance and the Iron Islands Alliance has now come to an end.

The victor was a third party that rose to power with absolute terror—Euron Greyjoy, who called himself the "Son of the Drowned God" and declared his rule with the "Crown of the Sea Corpses."

Euron Greyjoy's invitation to "attend the ceremony" lay quietly on the ornate, shell-inlaid conference table inside the Bloodstone Fortress, the words on the parchment seemingly exuding a cold, rusty, and bloody aura.

This was by no means a simple invitation to a victory celebration, nor was it an invitation for them to watch as a former pirate king's head was chopped off.

Everyone knew perfectly well that this was a banquet negotiation concerning the future of the Stone Steps Islands, a redistribution of power, and a showdown that would determine the future flow of countless riches.

Thus, the three daughters' alliance, represented at the highest levels of the Stone Steps Isles—the governor's nephew of Tyros, the mysterious banker of Rhys, the fleet commander of Myr—along with their most important strategist and patron, gathered for the first time in the most secure secret chamber on Bloodstone Isle.

The heavy velvet curtains hung down, blocking out all outside sounds, with only the muffled sound of the waves faintly audible, like the uneasy beating of a heart.

They sat around the table, their expressions solemn. The air was filled with the aroma of expensive spices, the rich scent of aged wine, and a deeper anxiety about future choices.

"We must talk," the representative from Tyrosi broke the silence, pointing to the invitation with his fingertip. "About him, about our future."

Inside the sealed council chamber of Bloodstone Fortress, overlooking the entire harbor, the atmosphere was as heavy as the sea before a storm. The expensive Myr carpets absorbed most of the footsteps, and the Tyrothy brocades hanging on the walls seemed to have lost their former vibrancy.

Ries's representative, a banker in a deep purple velvet robe and with a large gemstone ring on his finger, broke the suffocating silence first. He didn't look at the invitation on the table, but instead turned his gaze to the man in military uniform sitting at the end of the table.

"Before discussing any strategy," the Reissian's voice was smooth yet carried an undeniable sharpness, "first, ask our trusted Allied Commander, General Gustav Drummond. Tell us frankly: with the strength of our Allied fleet, can we defeat that—the one who controls the deep-sea behemoth?"

All eyes instantly focused on the veteran general, renowned for his bravery. Commander Gustav Drummond's face was ashen. Without a moment's hesitation, he shook his head heavily, his voice dry but firm: "Don't even think about it! We absolutely can't win!" He raised his head, his eyes still lingering with the shock of observing the naval battle from afar. "Those creatures—any one of them possesses the power to turn the tide of a naval battle. And we're facing eight of them! Not to mention the thousands upon thousands of sharks that obey his commands, like an army—" His Adam's apple bobbed as he uttered the despairing truth, "Forgive my bluntness, gentlemen, but Euron Greyjoy—he alone could destroy our entire Alliance fleet."

The brutal military assessment caused the temperature in the room to plummet. Mill's representative, a trade prince known for his shrewdness and pragmatism, immediately wiped the fine sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief and replied, his voice almost urgent: "What is there to hesitate about? Prepare gifts, the most lavish gifts! All we can do now is pray for peaceful coexistence with him!"

The governor's nephew, representing Tyros, had a face full of resentment and worry. He tapped his fingers anxiously on the table: "But—we've been cultivating the interests of the Stone Steps Islands for so many years—I'm afraid he'll demand—"

"Making concessions to him is inevitable," the Reese representative calmly interrupted him, his tone resolute, demonstrating a banker's accurate assessment of value and risk. "Powerful forces inherently possess pricing power. Now that he holds absolute power, he naturally sets the rules. What we can do is not to haggle when we are powerless to resist, but to figure out how to preserve as much benefit as possible for our respective cities under the new rules."

After a brief silence, the four men, representing the highest will of the three city-states, exchanged glances and finally nodded slowly, whether willingly or reluctantly, reaching a consensus.

Compromise is the only option for survival.