Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 265 The Wealth of the Twins

Leehe Castle, the ancestral fortress built and managed by the Frey family over six hundred years, was once known for its deep moats,

Riverlands is renowned for its heavy oak and iron gates and towering stone walls. It was once an insurmountable fortress on the Green Fork River, a symbol of family power and wealth.

The once deep and dark moat is now stained dark red with blood and corpses, and the heavy city gates have been reduced to charred wood and twisted iron bars. The towering stone walls are covered with terrifying cracks and gaps left by the impact of giant beasts. The twin-towered castle, which symbolized the glory of the six years, is now nothing but ruins and wisps of black smoke.

The once magnificent halls have become a battlefield, and the family crest has been trampled into the blood and mud. This sturdy fortress, which has witnessed the countless generations of the Frey family's legacy, has fallen from its glorious peak in just one day, turning into a ruin soaked in death and despair.

Standing amidst the ruins of Lihe City, the smoke of war has not yet dissipated.

Euron Greyjoy coldly surveyed the ruins he had helped create, his voice devoid of any emotion: "This is the choice. Old Wald chose to be our enemy, and thus chose his own fate."

Eddard Stark, standing to the side, was pale. He looked at the shivering, gathered-up surviving women and children, his eyes filled with unbearable pain and deep self-reproach: "But those women and children—they shouldn't have to suffer like this." Although he and Euron had tried their best to restrain their men, once the tide of war began, many innocent lives were still swallowed up.

Euron merely chuckled softly upon hearing this: "Do your best and leave the rest to fate. Mercy is necessary, Lord Ed, but it cannot cloud the necessary decisions, or it will bring even greater disaster."

Euron walked to Eddard's side, patting the young duke heavily on the shoulder with his calloused hand, while his gaze drifted towards the distant southern horizon: "Put away your guilt. Only when we drag that mad king down from the Iron Throne, only when the war is completely over, will the entire Seven Kingdoms—from the humblest commoners to the noblest lords—truly have the right to live in peace." His words were like cold, hard rock, cruel, yet containing an undeniable logic.

Ed's eyes dimmed, but he nodded, his gaze hardening as certain beliefs in his heart grew stronger.

Euron's cold gaze swept over the huddled, trembling survivors of women and children. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on a pale, familiar face—his sixth wife, Bessanie Rossby.

It was during that fateful tournament at Harrenhal that he married this noblewoman on Pike Island in order to forge an alliance with the Rossby family. However, only a year later, Bessan's belly was already noticeably protruding, and her loose dress could not conceal the signs of life.

"Heh." A smile, hard to decipher whether it was mockery or admiration, tugged at the corner of Euron's lips. "This old man's energy is truly impressive."

He glanced at them only once before looking away with little interest. He cared nothing for the fate of these women and children, nor did he bother to inquire about it. He turned and casually waved to Eddard Stark beside him, whose face was grim: "These people are yours."

With your set of benevolence and morality, you'll surely find them a way to survive. "Having said that, he didn't look back and walked straight into the depths of the ruined castle, as if the weeping and fate behind him had nothing to do with him anymore.

Euron was more interested in the wealth of Frey's century-old collection.

When the Allied forces forcibly opened the fortified vault of Leehe City, even the well-traveled Euron Greyjoy couldn't help but feel a slight unease in his eyes. The wealth that House Frey had accumulated over six centuries, relying on the only crossing point on the Green Fork River, was now being unearthed like a sleeping treasure.

Most striking were the mountains of golden dragons. According to a rough estimate by the Northern Army's scholars, their total amount might reach a staggering one million—equivalent to several years' worth of the royal family's annual income. In addition:

Cross-regional currency: A large number of Braavos iron coins and Pentos gold coins are mixed in, highlighting the close trade ties between House Frey and the free trading city-states. These were usually used for daily military pay and small rewards.

Precious metal reserves: Uncast gold and silver ingots are neatly stacked, a form that facilitates storage and value preservation. Their source may be tribute from vassals or long-forgotten war plunder.

Jewelry and Dowry: Countless necklaces and brooches inlaid with sapphires and rubies gleamed, most of them being the generous dowry brought by Walder Frey's wife, or gifts offered by small families in the Riverlands to curry favor.

A particularly striking piece is the "River Crossing Lord's" scepter, cast in pure silver, with its exquisite twin-tower bridge design at the top, symbolizing absolute control over the right of way across the Green Fork River.

Historical Contract: A well-preserved parchment scroll sealed with gold foil, recording the Targaryen royal family's grant of the Fry's bridge charter around Aegon 200, the legitimate foundation of their wealth and status.

Flamboyant Armaments: Piles of weapons and armor, all engraved with the Frey family crest, are incredibly beautiful but have little practical value in combat, revealing their nouveau riche mentality of showing off.

Strategic reserves: Deep underground granaries still contain large quantities of well-preserved aged wheat, which is also an important strategic resource.

Euron glanced briefly at the astonishing wealth and said to Ed, "Leave the inventory to the maester and your steward. Load all the valuables and provisions that can be carried away onto the wagons as soon as possible. The provisions will serve as our military rations, and the wealth will be divided equally between us."

After all the conspicuous treasures had been moved out, the huge vault suddenly appeared empty and gloomy, with only the flickering light of the torches on the walls casting long and short shadows.

Euron Greyjoy did not leave with the others. He walked slowly alone in the empty stone chamber, his longsword occasionally tapping the walls and the floor with a crisp, lonely tinkling sound.

Seeing this, Eddard Stark stopped and frowned, asking, "Euron, is there something else wrong here?"

Euron didn't answer immediately, but simply put a finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. He continued tapping intently, his ears keenly picking up on the subtle differences in each echo.

Finally, when the tip of his knife grazed a stone slab near the corner of the wall, the sound was no longer a dull, solid echo, but a hollow, frivolous tremor.

Euron stopped abruptly. He crouched down and tapped the stone slab again with the hilt of his knife—to confirm it was the right spot.

He raised his head and looked at Ed, a knowing glint in his unfathomable eyes, and a knowing smile curved his lips: "Lord Ed, it seems our old marquis had a trick up his sleeve. Down here—there's a secret room."

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