Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 296 Intelligence Chief - Varys

Euron, like a shadowy figure, silently infiltrated the Red Keep of King's Landing.

The towering walls and formidable guards were utterly ineffective against him, who had mastered "Moonwalk" and "Shave." His target was clear—Varys, the eight-legged spider deep within the castle.

This chief intelligence officer was ranked very high on Euron's list, a crucial element. Euron valued not only Varys himself, but also his pervasive intelligence network spanning the Seven Kingdoms, and his unique methods of training those "little birds." These were the true treasures.

Varys possessed an elusive ability to seep into any crevice like mercury.

He could perfectly mimic the beggar's rags, the jailer's gloom, the merchant's shrewdness, and even a woman's alluring demeanor by altering his voice, gait, and subtle expressions. He was a true master of disguise, able to blend seamlessly into the background of the crowd.

So when King Aerys went completely mad and resolved to destroy King's Landing along with all its subjects, the spider evaporated like a drop of dew at dawn. He left no word and vanished silently into the intricate shadows and secret passages of the Red Keep, his whereabouts unknown.

Euron's figure moved through the shadows cast by the massive stone walls of the Red Keep. Varys's disappearance did not surprise him, nor did it make him pause. He was prepared.

At a deserted corner, he precisely stopped Elana, a meek and submissive maidservant holding a linen handkerchief. In the instant their eyes met, a fleeting glint flashed in Elana's eyes, before she quickly regained her obedient and indifferent expression. She was a key pawn, already planted deep within the Red Keep in Euron's vast "double agent plan."

After years of meticulous training and disguise, she infiltrated this place as an inconspicuous person. Her most important core task was to use every means to keep a close eye on the elusive eight-legged spider, record his habits, figure out his path, and even spy on the slightest clues of his secret network.

Elana lowered her eyes, her voice so soft it almost blended into the shadows of the wall: "Master, Varys disappeared before Tywin's army entered the city. He left the Red Keep, like a drop of water seeping into the desert, vanished without a trace."

Euron's eyes remained unwavering: "Where is he now?"

Elana lowered her head slightly and said softly, "He might be disguised as a beggar, a prostitute—or anyone. But he must still be in King's Landing, and he's completely changed his identity."

"Possible hiding places?" Euron's voice turned cold.

"I don't know exactly which crevice he's hiding in," Elana looked up, a confident glint in her eyes, "but I can find him. I haven't been watching him come and go all these years for nothing."

Euron nodded slightly and said, "You lead the way."

Elana immediately turned around, her skirt silently brushing against the stone steps, leading Euron into the deeper darkness of the Red Keep.

Elana led the way, not walking straight ahead, but deliberately slowing her pace and pausing slightly after each corridor or corner. In the instant she paused, Euron saw the tip of her delicate nose twitch almost imperceptibly, as if catching some invisible trace in the air.

Euron's eyes, sharp as an eagle's, immediately detected this subtle movement. "You tracked me by smell?"

"Yes, Master." Elana did not deny it, her voice remaining calm.

Euron's questions followed one after another, getting straight to the point: "What if he used strong perfumes or cheap colognes often used by prostitutes to mask his scent?"

Elana turned her head to the side, and the moonlight shone through the high window, illuminating half of her face, her eyes bright and resolute.

"Spices and perfumes can change the scent, but they can't completely erase the root cause. He was a eunuch," she said casually. "The aura emanating from deep within him was completely different from that of a healthy man or any woman. That emptiness was a unique mark that no amount of perfume could mask."

Elana, as if she knew the lines on her own palm, led Euron through the hidden intricacies of King's Landing. They entered an underground tunnel reeking of decay and mold, the murky water reaching above their ankles. On a slightly dried stone platform at a corner, lay a familiar, magnificent robe—Varys's usual attire.

Elana didn't linger; her nostrils twitched slightly as she continued her pursuit. They left the sewers through a hidden exit, slipped into what appeared to be an ordinary house, and passed through its back door. The salty sea breeze immediately hit them. Before them was a small dock, but it was now heavily guarded by hundreds of Western Border soldiers, their torches illuminating the night.

Elana's sharp gaze swept across the entire dock like a hawk's—panicked fishermen, piles of wooden crates, civilians trembling as soldiers drove them away—finally, her gaze locked onto an extremely dilapidated fisherman's hut at the far end of the dock.

At the dimly lit doorway of the small house, an old woman with a hunched back and a face full of deep wrinkles was huddled there, seemingly overwhelmed by the chaos before her.

Elana's eyes sharpened. She pointed at the figure, her tone resolute, and whispered, "Master, it's her—Varis!"

Euron stared at the hunched old woman huddled in the shadows, but no matter how he looked, he couldn't find a trace of Varys. But he trusted not his own eyes, but the ability of this pawn, carefully placed by Lisa over the years.

He slowly stepped forward and stopped in front of the old woman. The old woman seemed terrified by the scene of slaughter around her; her whole body trembled like a withered leaf in the wind, and she lowered her head even further, not daring to meet anyone's eyes.

Euron gave a playful smile, his voice low but clear enough to cut through the surrounding noise: "Varys?"

The old woman trembled violently, raising her face, which was covered with wrinkles of fear and confusion, her eyes cloudy, as if she couldn't understand what he was saying at all.

Euron crouched down in front of her, closing the distance, his gaze sweeping over every fine wrinkle on her face like a blade. "Honorable Chief of Intelligence," he said in a steady tone, yet with an undeniable pressure, "you should recognize me."

The old woman remained silent, but her trembling intensified.

Euron said no more, tossing the robe that Varys had been carrying—still damp from the sewers—into the mud at the old woman's feet. "My patience is limited; I don't have time to play this role-playing game with you."

Before he finished speaking, the longsword at his waist was already half an inch out of its sheath, its cold gleam reflecting on his face. "If you weren't Varys," Euron's voice suddenly turned cold, carrying the weight of death, "a useless old woman, living in King's Landing only brings suffering, I'll send you to your end. I'll count to three!"

He began to count, his voice not loud, yet like the tolling of a death knell:

'

"One," just as the word "three" was about to escape her lips, the old woman's trembling body strangely froze. She slowly raised her head, and the terror in her previously cloudy eyes faded, replaced by a bottomless calm and helplessness. A slightly high-pitched but calm voice, completely different from the old woman's appearance, rang out: "—I am."

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