Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 231 The New War

The door to the inner room slammed shut behind them, instantly shutting out the noise and smell of alcohol from the outside world.

The room was dimly lit, with only a few whale oil candles burning quietly on their wall stands, casting swaying shadows.

Euron Greyjoy sat alone in a large, sea monster-bone-carved chair, his elbows resting on the armrests, his fingertips lightly touching his chin. He didn't speak, nor did he immediately look at the person who had entered; he simply sat there quietly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

But an invisible yet incredibly powerful aura emanated from him, heavy and oppressive like the deep sea, causing everyone who entered the room to hold their breath involuntarily, and even the slightest sound of fabric rubbing together seemed exceptionally jarring.

This is a command that needs no words: Keep quiet.

In the suffocating silence, General Gustav Drummond forced himself to steady himself, stepped forward, bowed slightly, and broke the silence in as calm and solemn a tone as possible: "Lord Euron, on behalf of the alliance of the three cities of Tyrosi, Rhys, and Mil, we would like to offer our heartfelt congratulations on becoming an indispensable and important part of the Stone Steps Isles." His wording was cautious and official, attempting to set a polite and distant tone for the meeting.

Euron slowly raised his eyes, his gaze calmly sweeping over the group of uneasy representatives before him. A faint, enigmatic smile played at the corners of his lips. He didn't respond to the congratulations, but simply raised a hand and casually gestured for the empty seats in front of him to proceed.

The movements were casual, yet carried an undeniable air of authority.

Inside the room, the candlelight flickered, casting Euron's face in half-light and half-shadow. His question, like a stone thrown into a still pond, was calm yet instantly stirred up a thousand waves in the hearts of Gustav Drummond and his representatives.

Before his death, Marin the Pirate King, Bloodhand, uttered those words. Euron's gaze swept over the restless group before him, and he slowly asked, "What do you think?"

General Gustav Drummond almost immediately straightened his back, his face flushed with urgency, and his tone was extremely solemn, even carrying a hint of insulted indignation: "That is utter slander! My lord! Absolutely not! I swear on my honor and rank, the Three Daughters Alliance has never issued such an absurd order!"

Euron listened to his vehement denial, his faint smile deepening slightly, as if he had heard something amusing. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest of his chair, his voice still calm, yet carrying a cold, logical force: "Oh? A dying man's words are good. These were his last words. I'm curious, with his last ounce of strength, he resorted to the most vicious means to slander you—what benefit could he possibly gain from this?"

General Gustav's forehead was beaded with sweat. He hurriedly defended himself, his voice trembling with tension: "He'll gain nothing, sir! That's just the most vicious curse of a madman, a loser on his deathbed! He just wants to drag us down, muddy the waters, and stir up a war even after his death! It's utter nonsense, completely thoughtless!"

Euron listened quietly, offering no further questions or indication of belief or disbelief. He simply looked at the general with his unfathomable eyes, then posed a simpler, yet more deadly, question: "So, tell me, General, what about you, or your three daughters' alliance?"

Euron paused, letting each word linger clearly in the air, "How do you intend to prove to me that what he said is false—" His gaze became piercing, "and that what you say is true?"

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Faced with Euron's fatal question, the representative of Tyrosi was speechless, his face ashen, his lips trembling as he stammered, "How—how can you prove this?"

Mill's representative hurriedly interjected, attempting to persuade with logic: "Your Excellency, you are wise! Our Three-City Alliance is built on trade, and reputation is its foundation! We would absolutely, absolutely not target merchant ships that have already paid us tolls! That would be tantamount to self-destruction and would bring us no benefit whatsoever!"

Euron listened to these feeble excuses, a cold, undisguised sneer curling at the corner of his mouth. He gave a soft snort, not loud, but like a slap across the faces of the delegates.

"A promise?" He repeated the word as if he'd heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. "In the Stone Steps Islands, how many gold dragons is a worthless promise?" His gaze suddenly sharpened like a knife, sweeping over them one by one. "Don't tell me that after all these years of dominating these seas, you don't even understand this most basic common sense?"

Without waiting for a reply, he waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away flies, and issued his final ultimatum: "You have ten days."

His voice was steady, yet it carried an undeniable iron will and a chilling threat.

"Go back and prepare. Produce convincing evidence that Marin, the Pirate King, was slandering and lying before his death."

He paused deliberately, leaning forward slightly, and the man's eyes, gleaming with an abyss-like light, slowly uttered another option: "Or—"

"—Be prepared for a new war."

The last few words, like a heavy death knell, resounded in the cramped space, striking heavily on everyone's hearts.

General Gustav's face turned ashen, his lips trembled as if he wanted to argue something, trying to salvage a sliver of hope from that cold ultimatum.

Just as he was about to speak, the heavy door to the inner room seemed to be controlled by an invisible hand, silently opening a crack inward.

The faint sounds of noise emanating from the hall outside the door surged weakly into the suffocating silence like a tide, creating a stark contrast.

Euron didn't even give him a chance to organize his thoughts. He maintained that enigmatic composure, gracefully raising his hand in a gesture that was both soothing and dismissive, cutting off all unspoken words.

"The banquet continues, gentlemen," his voice regained an almost polite calm, yet the meaning behind his words made that politeness all the more chilling, "rest assured. On this island, under my protection, I guarantee the absolute safety of every one of you."

General Gustav swallowed back all the words he was about to utter. He exchanged a quick glance with the other three representatives, their eyes filled with shock, humiliation, and a deep sense of fear. Words were utterly inadequate at that moment.

In the end, the four of them could only suppress all their resentment and bewilderment, maintain the last shred of their fragile dignity, silently turn around, and walk out of the oppressive inner room one by one.