Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 256 "Inflatable Fish" Mace Tyrell

Inside the castle hall of Seagull Town, the lingering stench of blood mingled with the aroma of newly opened mead.

Robert Baratheon sat in the high-backed chair that had once belonged to Lord Gled, drinking the cellar's golden mead and laughing loudly, his booming laughter shaking the stone walls. He and the generals of Stormlands celebrated this long-awaited and exhilarating victory.

Eddard Stark stood alone atop the crumbling city walls, the sea breeze carrying a heavy, salty, and burnt smell.

His face was solemn as he looked down at the corpses and wreckage of warships floating in the bay. After a long silence, he turned around and gave clear orders to his soldiers to extinguish the remaining fires in the city, do their best to rescue the wounded, and strictly forbade any looting of civilians under his command, under penalty of military law.

Jon Arryn strode into the bustling hall and went straight to Robert, who was drinking heartily. His voice was steady yet carried an undeniable warning: "The glory of victory can never be washed away by the taste of blood. Robert, we have only won the first battle, far from the whole war. Celebrating now is premature."

Duke Horst Tully, standing nearby, held a different view. Raising his glass, he spoke with pragmatism and expectation: "But in any case, this is a crucial victory, a glorious beginning. It has proven our strength and shaken the enemy's confidence."

Euron Greyjoy swirled the wine in his glass, letting out a low, enigmatic laugh, as if talking to himself, mocking everyone present: "The people of the Green Lands are always busy dying for glory, while we Ironborn live only for our own survival and that of our families."

They had different thoughts on this first victory, but overall they were satisfied with the result.

Seagull Town, the only major outlet to the sea in the valley, was a renowned and prosperous place throughout the Seven Kingdoms, its wealth far exceeding that of ordinary castles and towns. When the allied forces conquered this port, the mountain of golden dragons in the Glad family's vault was completely taken out.

With Robert's hearty laughter and Jon's tacit approval, these gleaming coins were generously distributed to every Allied soldier who fought valiantly and fearlessly in this place.

The heavy golden dragon fell into the soldiers' rough, blood-stained hands, instantly dispelling their fatigue from the past few days and their fear of death. Deafening cheers and praises for Duke Robert echoed throughout the bay.

This was not only a reward, but also a shot in the arm, making them firmly believe that following the banner of the stag, the trout, the wolf, the eagle, and the sea monster would surely bring glory and rich rewards.

The smoke of battle had not yet cleared in Gulltown when Eddard Stark decided not to linger. He knew the vassals in the North were still awaiting their new lord. Euron was not stingy; with a casual gesture, he ordered a black Ironborn longship to carry the young Duke of the North and sail towards the vast north.

Eddard stood at the bow, the salty sea breeze ruffling his brown hair. Behind him receded the valley and the clamor of war, while ahead lay his cold yet familiar homeland. He would cross Bitten Bay, reach White Harbor, and then ride swiftly back to Winterfell. He had to quickly gather all his vassals in the North, reunite the banner of the direwolves, and avenge his father and brother's blood debt.

Euron and Robert boarded a sturdy Ironborn longship, its black sails billowing in the sea wind, carrying them away from the still-smoke-filled Seagulltown and sailing towards the stormy lands.

On deck, Robert's imposing figure faced the sea breeze, his gaze burning as he looked towards his homeland, the flames of revenge never extinguished in his heart. Euron, on the other hand, leaned lazily against the ship's railing; it was just an ordinary voyage, with only the occasional glint of calculation in his eyes.

The purpose of this mission is clear: Euron will use his iron fist and strategic acumen to help Robert stabilize the turbulent situation in Stormlands as quickly as possible. Their primary objective is to eliminate the royal garrison still loyal to the Iron Throne and the die-hard royalist lords gathered around Summerhall. This land that once belonged to Robert must be thoroughly purified with fire and blood.

Duke Horst Tully did not linger in Gulltown, knowing full well that the Riverlands needed his presence. He immediately set off, sailing upstream along the Trident River back to his Riverrun. Upon arrival, he swiftly reorganized his forces, summoned his vassals, and transformed the Fish family's fortress into a bustling and resolute war hub, ready to answer the Alliance's call at any moment.

At the Eyrie, Jon Arryn regrouped the Vale army, battered by bloodshed. They cleared the battlefield, licked their wounds, and awaited the forces from the North. Their gazes were fixed on Harrenhal, the sinister and colossal city that stood on the shores of Godeye Lake.

A clear strategy had been devised: they would patiently wait for Eddard Stark to bring his direwolf army from the North. Then, the allied forces of the Riverlands and the Vale would join the army from the North, and the three forces would unite to launch a final, decisive assault on the cursed fortress, Harrenhal.

Inside the High Court of the Reach, the air was thick with the fragrance of roses and the silent smoke of battle. When the Mad King of King's Landing issued his order to send troops once more, a battle that would determine the fate of the Reach erupted between the mother and son, the highest rulers of the South.

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, Warden of the Frontier, and High Warden of the Reach, clutched the edict sealed with the Dragon King's wax, his face flushed with anxiety. "We must send troops," he said firmly, yet with a barely perceptible wavering. "For three hundred years, House Tyrell has been the Targaryens' most loyal vassals. Our rule is founded on the investiture of Aegon I; to betray the royal family is to deny our own legitimacy! My father, and my father's father, taught me that loyalty is the cornerstone of our standing in Highgarden!"

Mace recounts the blood his family shed for the Iron Throne—two dukes who died in the two Dornish Wars, and their unwavering support during countless rebellions—attempting to overwhelm the opposing argument with the weight of history.

However, the "Queen of Thorns," his mother Olenna Redwin, who sat opposite him, merely glanced at him with her worldly-wise, sharp eyes, her fingertips lightly tapping the armrest of her chair.

"Are you sure your choice is right, Mace?" Her voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp as needles. "What if the rebels win in the end, and a new dynasty is established? How will we Highgarden then conduct ourselves? Loyalty?" She scoffed. "The cheapest thing in the world is blind loyalty. We Tyrell control the rich Reach because of vision, food, and an army, not just that crown bestowed upon us three hundred years ago."

Duke Mays frowned, revealing his deep worry: "Mother, you don't understand! Although we are the rulers, the Florentine family has always claimed to be direct descendants of the Gardener King, and they are always eyeing us covetously. If we betray the royal family, we will give them and other ancient families the perfect excuse, and the Reach will immediately fall into division!"

"What if the royal family changes itself? What if the Targaryens are uprooted?" Olenna retorted without backing down. "What if another stag, a wolf, or even a sea monster sits on the Iron Throne? Then it won't be betrayal anymore, but rather assessing the situation and assisting the new king in ascending the throne! A mad king, a monarch who has completely lost the support of the nobility and is left with only tyranny, cannot rule a country. His downfall is only a matter of time."

"But can you be certain the rebels will win?" Mace argued. "His Majesty still commands the majority of the Seven Kingdoms' forces, and has renowned generals like Prince Rhaegar, the fearless Barristan, and Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning! The risk is too great!"

"Precisely because we cannot be certain," Lady Olenna pointed out calmly, a shrewd glint in her eyes, "that's why we can't put all our roses on a table destined to break. Look at the Westerlands; even that old lion Tywin Lannister is holding back, observing the situation. That's what we should learn from him."

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"So, should we send troops or not?" Duke Mays was completely bewildered and lost his bearings.

"Go!" Olenna said decisively, her strategy already in place. "But it's enough to let the Mad King see that we've sent troops. Surround them without attacking, and even if we do fight, just make a show of it. Whatever you do, don't really escalate the conflict, especially don't hurt those key figures on the enemy side: Robert, Eddard, and Jon. Any one of them could become the new king in the future."

Mays was still hesitating: "This—"

"That's settled then." The Queen of Thorns made the final decision, ending the argument without room for argument. "You inflatable fish," she said, "don't go to the front lines and cause trouble." Earl Randyll Tarly would lead the army; he was cautious enough and knew his limits.

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