Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Mario was intended to be Euron's mole in the Free City, but the rest of the operation was left to Dagmo.

Dagmore was appointed by King Coron as Euron's bodyguard, not only to protect Euron's safety, but also because Coron wanted to allow Euron to do what he wanted, and Dagmore's abilities and connections could help him. During the more than twenty days of sea voyage on the "Drinking Spree," they had been through thick and thin together, and Euron had come to know Dagmore to some extent. He appeared rude, impulsive, and foolish, but in reality, he was shrewd and capable, with a shrewdness beneath his rough exterior.

Euron had many plans in his mind, but he could only make choices based on their importance and difficulty. At present, the only one that could be done with low investment costs, low trial and error costs, high probability of success and high returns was salt!

The deepest, most secluded stone cellar beneath Pike Place City is damp as a drowning god's womb. Salt frost seeping from the rock walls gleams ghostly white under the flickering torches. Every breath carries a cold, salty stench, every drop of water echoes hollowly in the deathly silence. Here, the cries of the saltworks slaves are silenced, the eternal roar of the waves is silenced, leaving only the silence of the stone and a brewing, subversive stillness.

Euron Greyjoy stood in the center of the cellar, his dark grey cloak almost blending into the shadows. Beneath the hood, his heterochromatic eyes burned with a focus and control beyond his years in the dim light. He was no longer an observer, but the core of this ritual, the source and helmsman of the torrent of knowledge. Dagmer had found this quiet spot for him and prepared everything Euron needed. Lisa, now freed from her deep-sea silence, transformed into the most precise vessel and outstretched arm, her emerald eyes following Euron's every subtle command like a believer gazing upon a deity's pronouncements. His uncle, the priest Greyjoy who had performed the drowning for him, had been invited by Euron from the Temple of the Drowning God to witness his every move.

On the rough wooden table were the most common, crude utensils found in the Iron Islands: heavy earthenware jars, polished wooden barrels, sturdy iron pots, finely woven rattan strainers, and smooth whalebone rods. Beside them lay a pile of coarse salt, freshly transported from the salt fields, a mix of grayish-yellow and brown, exuding the pungent, rusty, and bitter smell of seaweed.

"First step, dissolve." Euron's voice echoed in the stone cellar, his clear, childlike tone carrying an undeniable command that precisely cleaved the silence. He extended a slender finger, pointing to a wooden bucket filled with clear rainwater, then to the pile of filthy coarse salt. "Take a portion and pour it into the water. Let it stand, like a reef sinking into the abyss. Let the mud, gravel, shells... all the filth from the earth settle to the bottom on its own."

Lisa did as she was told, her movements precise as a machine. Coarse salt granules fell into the water, hissing like a dying man. She stood silently to the side, her gaze fixed on the surface of the water like a hawk's. The turbidity gradually separated into layers, the upper layer of liquid taking on a sickly yellowish hue. Euron nodded slightly: "Filter! Only take the clear liquid from the top. The sediment at the bottom is useless, discard it like worn-out shoes." The wicker filter swept across the water's surface, filtering the relatively clear brine into another clean earthenware jar, while the murky residue was completely discarded in a corner bucket, symbolizing the abandoned past.

“The second step, devour.” Euron’s gaze shifted to a sealed earthenware urn in the corner. He walked over, personally lifting the lid to reveal charcoal blocks inside—black as ink, with a brittle texture—activated charcoal he had specified, made by smoldering sea oak in a specially crafted kiln. “Crush it into powder.” Lisa immediately took the charcoal and carefully ground it with a stone mortar, the powder as fine as ink-black bone ash. Euron picked up a small amount of charcoal powder with his fingers, observing its texture in the firelight, and nodded in satisfaction. “Sprinkle it into the salt water. Stir,” he picked up a whalebone stick and personally demonstrated a slow but powerful circular stirring motion, “Let these charcoal skeletons devour! Devour the ‘bitter spirit’ dissolved in the water, devour the ‘iron soul’ that brings the rusty smell, devour all the filth that shames the salt!” His words sounded like a spell, but in reality it was just a simple activated charcoal adsorption method; he just wanted to give it a mysterious name, after all, this was a world where people generally believed in gods.

Lisa took the bone stick and began stirring. Miraculously, the murky salt water, swirling in the charcoal powder, shed its yellow hue and became increasingly clear and transparent! Euron watched intently, his heterochromatic eyes like precise detectors, observing every detail of the color change. "Enough," he gestured for a halt, "When the water's color resembles the first snowfall in a frozen pool, that's when all the impurities are gone. Filter again! This time, filter out even the charcoal powder and the spirits of impurity it has devoured!"

The rattan filter worked again, and the filtered brine was almost colorless, as pure as melting snow from a high mountain. The black charcoal residue and the bitter soul it imprisoned were completely removed.

"The third step, tempering the bones in the fire, refining the true form." Euron pointed to the heavy, dark cast iron cauldron. "Pour it in." Filtered brine was poured into the cauldron. He personally walked to the fire pit and lit the fuel, a mixture of dried seaweed and whale blubber. The eerie blue flames rose like living things, licking the cold bottom of the cauldron. "Fire is the will to temper. It must start fiercely, dispelling the inertia of the water vapor." The cauldron was initially calm, then fine bubbles rose from the bottom, from sparse to dense, crackling and steaming, carrying a pure salty taste. "When it boils like a raging sea, it must be softened." Euron's voice was like chanting an ancient alchemical mantra. When the steam rose and the liquid level dropped by about a third, he took a long-handled wooden ladle, dipped it in, and dripped a drop of the concentrated liquid onto the cold obsidian slab. The droplet quickly condensed into tiny, colorless crystals. "Look, the essence of salt is beginning to awaken!" A sharp glint flashed in his eyes. "At this moment, the fire must be like a warm bed, not violent. Let the water recede calmly like the tide, allowing the true form of salt to condense and grow peacefully in the mother liquor. Those 'evil spirits' (such as magnesium chloride) that bring bitterness and deliquescence crave the embrace of water; let them remain in the water now!" This is the essence of the evaporation crystallization method—the control of the heat determines the separation of purity and impurity. Lisa was completely focused, precisely adjusting the fire according to Euron's every glance and every subtle gesture, maintaining a gentle boil within the cauldron. Fine, frost-like white crystals quietly grew on the cauldron walls and the edges of the liquid, like sacred ice flowers.

"Fourth step, drain the blood, sever its poisonous roots!" When the bottom of the cauldron was covered with a layer of snow-white crystals, and the remaining mother liquor became viscous, scarce, and unsettlingly yellowish-brown, Euron decisively ordered, "Extinguish the fire!" He pointed to the willow basket lined with multiple layers of fine linen filter cloth. "Strip it! The contents of the cauldron, the snow-white one is the essence, the viscous yellowish-brown one is 'bitter blood' (bitter brine). The cloth is the filter, the essence remains on top, the 'bitter blood' drains below! This blood is poisonous; if it touches the salt, its soul will be tainted, and its roots will be severed!" The solid-liquid separation was now imbued with the resolute meaning of severing its destiny. Lisa carefully shoveled the scalding mixture into the filter basket with a specially made wooden shovel. The scalding, viscous bitter brine hissed as it passed through the linen cloth and flowed into the earthenware jar below, emitting a bitter aroma that made one frown. What remained on the filter cloth was the wet, yet gleaming, pure form of refined salt. Euron looked at the brine being drained away as if he were looking at the severed head of a venomous snake.

"Step five, condensation, sealing the pure soul." Moist refined salt was evenly spread in several large, shallow ceramic dishes. Euron led Lisa to a well-ventilated, dry stone chamber nearby. Inside, only a small basin of smokeless charcoal fire emitted dry heat. "The wind and the slight warmth are the final touches. Turn it over, like combing wings, ensuring each grain is dry, light, and independent!" He personally demonstrated turning the salt layer with a smooth whalebone slice, gentle and even. Lisa took the slice and turned it periodically. Time passed in the dry, hot air, the moisture peeled away bit by bit. The salt grains gradually became loose, dry, and shimmered with a cold, snow-white light. Drying, this final step, was like draping a cloak of eternity over the pure soul. When Lisa picked up a small pinch of salt, leaving only pure saltiness on her fingertips, without any other taste or stickiness, she looked at Euron. Euron reached out his small hand, picked up a little himself, and put it in his mouth. The exquisitely pure saltiness exploded on his tongue, like the perfect condensation of the ocean's essence. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the power itself. When he opened them again, the light in his heterochromatic eyes was enough to pierce the thickest darkness.

"Step Six: Sealing the Stone Coffin, Imprisoning Authority." Completely dried, cold refined salt was carefully scooped by Lisa into thick-walled ceramic jars using a specially made bone spoon. Euron stood by, personally supervising every movement. The jar openings were covered with soft sheepskin soaked in beeswax, then sealed tightly with melted black wax, the symbol of the Greyjoy family. Each sealed jar was like a miniature tomb, imprisoning pristine purity and subversive power.

Lisa presented the first sealed jar to Euron, kneeling on one knee as if offering a sacred object.

"From this moment on, its value is comparable to that of a golden dragon of equal weight! From now on, let's call it Platinum Sand!" Euron took the cold earthenware jar, his small fingers tracing the smooth surface and the hardened wax seal. He felt the power contained within, a power capable of changing the fate of the Iron Islands.

The elaborate and solemn ceremony was naturally intended to imbue "Platinum Sands" with a sense of mystery. After all, most people in this world have religious beliefs, and the more mysterious the arrangement, the more likely people are to have the illusion of divine possession. After all that, Euron felt that Lisa and Dagmore were looking at him with eyes full of adoration. If the system had a trust rating system, Lisa's trust rating was at least 80, while Dagmore's was a perfect 100.

This is not salt, it is a scepter! It is chains! It is the cornerstone of the Greyjoy family's rule! When Platinum Sands is mass-produced, it will only be the beginning.