Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

The family banquet hall is filled with a unique aroma of sea salt, grilled fish, and whale oil lamps.

The massive black stone table, like a whale skeleton washed ashore, was cold and heavy. The flames in the fireplace leaped, casting distorted and flickering shadows on the rough stone walls, but could not dispel the bone-chilling coldness permeating the hall, a chill seeped into the bones by the salty sea breeze.

At one end of the long table, Corren Greyjoy, the King of the Seastone, sat as steadfast as a reef, slicing juicy grilled cod on a plate. His wife, Sansa Greyjoy, a woman from the Blacktides family of Blacktide Isle, with a lingering melancholy in her eyes, quietly and meticulously carved the fish into pieces, feeding it to her one-year-old, babbling son, Victarion. Beside them sat Corren's younger brother, the fiery-tempered headmaster Balf Greyjoy, munching heartily on his ale. And at the second seat of the long table sat Euron's older brother—Baron Greyjoy.

The occasional clinking of cutlery against the silver plate, the indistinct babbling of the younger brother Victarion, Balf's hearty laughter, and Baron's quirky singing of pirate songs.

Koren swallowed a mouthful of fish, his rough fingers picking up the earthenware cup. His gaze, like a cast-out anchor, settled heavily on Euron, who was quietly eating at the other end of the table. His voice wasn't loud, but it shattered the surface calm instantly, like a stone thrown into a deep pool:

"Today, two more lords have made a proposal to me." Corren paused, his gaze sweeping across every face present, finally settling on Euron's calm, almost indifferent face. "They wish to designate you—Euron Greyjoy—as my successor."

"Click."

Lady Sansa's silver spoon tapped lightly against the edge of the porcelain plate, producing a subtle yet jarring sound. She looked up abruptly, a flicker of alarm in her eyes, and instinctively tightened her embrace of Victarion. Uncle Balf froze, the murky liquid dripping from his thick beard as he poured the wine. His eyes widened as he looked at Coron, then Euron, before finally settling his gaze on his silent nephew, Balon.

The air in the entire hall seemed to be sucked out instantly, leaving only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace and the howling of the sea breeze hitting the high windows.

At the second seat of the long table, Baron Greyjoy held his knife and fork firmly in his thick arms, his eyes lowered as he focused intently on the food on his plate. He had certainly heard his father's words and understood their significance.

Just before the banquet, his father had asked him the same question at the armory. Balon's answer then was straightforward, even carrying a hint of approval for his brother: "Euron? That kid's got a knack for it, his mind works faster than a storm. If he really can plunder more gold and fatter sheep from the Iron Islands than I can, what's wrong with letting him be king? It's all Greyjoy's blood that flows on the Iron Throne anyway!"

Baron loved his family, loved all his brothers, including Euron, who always gave him a bit of a creep. Blood was a chain, stronger than any damn law. An heir? If his father decided, Baron Greyjoy wouldn't even flinch! He just instinctively felt that bringing up such an important matter at the dinner table was a bit... too casual. Besides, he was waiting to see how that always-pretentious brat would react.

While eating his fish, Corren casually asked, "Eulen, what do you think?"

How can I see it? How can I possibly see it?! I'll just lie down and see it~~~

Euron remained completely unmoved, even feeling a slight urge to laugh. A reference to "Yuanfang" from some distant past inadvertently flashed through his mind. His knife and fork continued their precise cuts of the snow-white fish on the plate without pause, his movements elegant beyond his years. He didn't even lift his eyelids, as if his father were discussing tomorrow's weather rather than the crucial matter of succession that could shake the family's foundation.

In a suffocating silence, Euron finally placed a small piece of tender fish meat, its bones removed, into his mouth, chewed it slowly, and swallowed. He picked up a linen napkin, slowly wiped the corner of his mouth, and then raised his heterochromatic eyes. His left eye was like a chaotic abyss that swallowed all light, and his right eye was like a polar ice core frozen in a storm, calmly meeting his father's scrutinizing gaze.

"The eldest son inherits," his childish voice was clear and unchanging, without a trace of emotion, as if stating the unchanging law of the tides, "and has always been the cornerstone of the Iron Islands, and even Westeros." His gaze seemed to casually sweep over Balon sitting opposite him.

Baron snorted and continued chewing his fish. He knew this kid was going to bring up tradition and put on an act! The slight resentment he felt because his younger brother was being favored was somewhat suppressed.

Corren took in Baron's expression and Euron's calm. He leaned forward slightly, like a seasoned captain probing uncharted waters: "But you are the son of the Drowned God. The Iron Islands are different from the six continental nations. The will of the Drowned God is above mortal laws. Succession by non-firstborn sons... is not without precedent in our history." His words were like bait, probing the true ambitions in his youngest son's heart.

Euron's lips curved upwards in an extremely subtle way. He put down his knife and fork, leaned back in his chair, and gazed out the window at the roaring, boundless, dark sea, as if piercing through the thick stone wall.

"Father," his voice remained calm, yet carried a grandeur and ethereal quality beyond his years, almost divine, "wherever one can smell the sea or hear the sound of the waves..." He paused slightly, each word like a crystal of sea salt, striking the silent stone hall, "is my territory."

These words, like an invisible storm, instantly swept through the entire hall! Lady Sansa gasped, her face turning deathly pale. Uncle Balf's mouth gaped open, oblivious to the dripping wine. Even Baron, who had been keeping his head down, tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment.

Euron's gaze swept across their shocked faces, finally settling on Coron, his heterochromatic eyes seeming to burn with a ghostly flame from the deep sea: "I prefer the oath of the Grey King: 'I will rule the seas, and I will rule the rocky lands, wearing a robe woven from seaweed, and with the teeth of the Naga for my towering pale crown.'" He repeated the oldest and most sublime legend of the Iron Islands, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable, ancient, heavy echo.

The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; only the flickering fire in the fireplace illuminated every face etched with shock.

Euron's gaze finally fell on his brother Baron, who stood opposite him as silent as a mountain. His tone became unusually "gentle," even carrying a childlike, innocent, and mischievous teasing, as if he were teasing a hot-tempered but close friend:

"So, Father," he spread out his small palm, making a "take it and play with it" gesture, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with a mischievous gleam, "this little Iron Islands can stay with Brother Baron." He even deliberately imitated the tone of an adult coaxing a child, drawing out the last syllable, "His abilities... should be able to... watch... the... house... well!" His tone and expression were exactly what he was saying: Big brother, you can play with this toy for now, just don't lose it, I'm going to play with a bigger one!

"Bang—Crunch!!!"

A sickening metallic creak suddenly rang out!

Baron Greyjoy's face instantly turned a deep shade of liver! He understood! He completely understood the flippant tone in this little brat's words, the tone that implied he was being treated like a watchdog! What "watch the house"? He, Baron Greyjoy, was the wolf of Pyke City, the Iron Captain who could tear enemy ships apart! How old was this brat?! Daring to speak to him in such a coaxing tone towards Victarion?! And "charitably" the Iron Islands?! The anger of being mocked and looked down upon by his younger brother surged to his head! Forget about being the son of the drowned god, he'd beat him up first and let him know who the big brother was!

A surge of violent power was instantly unleashed upon the knife and fork in his hand! The thick, heavy steel knife was twisted and deformed by his forceful grip, becoming like soft mud! The tines of the fork dug deep into the flesh of his palm, oozing beads of bright red blood!

He abruptly raised his head, his eyes wide with rage, staring intently at Euron like a furious sea lion toyed with by a seal, his roar sending dust flying from the roof.

"You little brat!! I...want...to...beat...you...to death!!!" The roar was filled with genuine, overwhelming rage, but deeper, it also revealed a mixed feeling of embarrassment, resentment, and the typical elder brother's fury—a mixture of anger, disrespect, and the frustration of being so disrespectfully mocked by his closest (though eccentric) younger brother. Blood ties remained, but at this moment, all he wanted was to grab this brat and give him a good spanking!

A scene of brotherly affection and respect unfolded in the banquet hall. Euron circled the table, avoiding his furious brother, until his mother hugged him with a smile. Only then did Balon stop his rage and return to his seat.

After a brief silence, King Koren looked at Balf and held out his hand, saying, "You lost. 100 gold dragons!"

Balf rolled his eyes. He'd thought it was just a joke between brothers, but his older brother, Corin, had actually flipped the table. Accepting his loss, Balf tossed over a jingling bag of gold coins, shaking his head and sighing, "Sigh, shouldn't the younger brother be plotting to overthrow the older brother, the older brother eagerly wiping out the monster, and then the two of them fighting it out? Why is the King of the Iron Islands so worthless now?"

A bet? A bet that the two brothers might fall out over this?

Baron was shocked and roared, "Damn it! How can you bet on something like this?! How can you joke about something like this?!"

King Coron and Balf laughed heartily, completely unconcerned. Euron, however, sensed something amiss and frowned, saying, "Perhaps many people truly wish to see what Uncle Balf described!"

Corren sighed and said with a faint smile, "Baron, I must say, your brother's IQ is definitely much higher than yours!"

Baron paused for a moment, then realized what was happening and said, "Father, do you mean someone is deliberately spreading these rumors to see us brothers at odds with the family?"

"and then?"

"What do you mean, 'then'? The person who did this definitely had bad intentions. Catch them and kill them!"

"But there are quite a few lords who think this way now. Some are plotting something, some are just following the crowd, and some are genuinely sincere. Should we arrest and kill them all?"

"Then let's capture them first, and then we'll have plenty of ways to make them understand..."

"Those are all Ironborn, nobles, and lords of the Iron Islands, not salt slaves to be killed at will, nor are they your prisoners. You're not going to just arrest or kill them; do you want to throw the Iron Islands into chaos?"

"Well, then..."

Koren ignored his headstrong eldest son and looked at Euron, asking, "Euron, what do you think?"

How am I supposed to see it? What can I possibly see it?

"A very effective, and very vicious, plot. What I mean is..." Euron smiled slightly, "We should just wait quietly. And since they want to see us brothers at odds, let them have their way. When the time comes, there will definitely be some people around me and Baron, using all sorts of pretexts to offer us advice! Those who seem the most enthusiastic and willing to provide all kinds of help are just the rats in the shadows."

Baron scratched his head and said, "Acting? I'm good at that. No wonder everyone calls you a prodigy, you came up with an idea in such a short time. It's really strange, we all eat the same salted fish, how does your brain work?" As he spoke, he rubbed Euron's hair and pinched his cheek hard.

"Brother, don't let this turn into reality and make you completely fooled by those people! What if you really do kill me..."

"You bastard, are you laughing at me for being dumber than you, or are you looking down on me?"

"It's alright, actually, there's a little bit of each."

The scene of brotherly love and respect once again appeared in the banquet hall...