Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 318 Asara's New Home

As soon as Asara stepped onto the rough, rocky ground of Ironwind Island, before she could fully recover from the shock of crossing the sea in a giant sea monster, a shadow suddenly moved beside her.

A long, fiery red tongue shot out without warning, so fast that it left only a blur, and licked Euron's cheek thoroughly, leaving a wet, glistening trail.

Asara gasped in surprise, instinctively gripping Euron's arm tightly until her fingertips turned slightly white. When she followed the trail and saw the full form of the enormous creature in the shadows, her breath almost stopped.

That was definitely not any living being she knew.

It has a head as majestic as a legendary dragon, but its claws gleam with a cold, metallic light, like those of a giant eagle. What is most astonishing is that its body is not covered with scales, but with layers upon layers of brightly colored feathers, as vibrant as burning jewels, which refract a strange, hard, metallic luster in the dim moonlight and flickering torchlight.

"Dragon?" Her voice trembled slightly with nervousness, and she tightened her grip on Euron's hand.

Euron, his face streaked with licks, chuckled softly, casually wiping the wetness from his face. "No, it's not a dragon," he said, turning to the still-shaken Ashara, his eyes filled with reassurance and a hint of inexplicable pride. "Dragons don't have feathers like these." He paused, his gaze returning to the silent behemoth, his tone becoming distant. "To be honest, I don't know which category it belongs to. I named it Halsien."

As he spoke, the creature called Halsien leaned forward slightly, revealing its remarkably soft, swan-like head. Only then did Ashara get a clear look at its full form.

A single, warm horn adorns its forehead, and its eyes are a deep amber color, as if frozen in time. Its shimmering feathers, seen up close, are even more magnificent, subtly radiating a resilient aura, clearly unharmed by ordinary swords. Long, colorful tail feathers cascade down its back, shimmering softly in the night.

Asara unconsciously took a small step forward, gazing intently into those enormous amber eyes. There was no predatory ferocity, nor the alienation of an outsider; instead, they were like two bottomless ancient wells, calmed by gentleness and compassion. An indescribable sense of peace, like warm water, slowly dispelled the last trace of fear in her heart. Her tense shoulders relaxed, and without even realizing it, she gently loosened her grip on Euron's arm.

"Hello—you." Her voice was soft, tentative, but no longer trembling.

Halsien's massive head tilted slightly, and a deep hum emanated from the depths of his throat. The sound wasn't loud, but it possessed a strange penetrating power, solemn and far-reaching, as if it came from the depths of time. It had a metallic quality, yet was also strangely gentle; far from being harsh, it was like a warm ripple, gently caressing the listener's soul.

Even more remarkably, although Asara clearly did not understand any specific language, she distinctly sensed a friendly and welcoming thought deep within her heart—it was responding to her.

The halls of Ironwind Isle are not as grand as those of Pike City; the rough stone walls cast flickering shadows under the leaping torchlight, yet they possess a solid and private atmosphere.

Euron naturally took Ashara's hand and led her toward the group of figures gathered around the fire pit in the hall.

"This will be our home from now on, and they will all be our family." Euron's voice was low and reassuring.

the amount.

Lisa affectionately took Ashara's arm, and Dagmer bowed respectfully beside her. These two familiar faces reassured her somewhat. Then, Euron's gaze turned to the woman by the fire, dressed in a deep red robe and exuding a passionate aura.

"Red Priestess, Gwendolyn, you have met several times in the tournament and in Dorne."

Asara nodded slightly; she remembered the inextinguishable flame in the priest's eyes. Gwendolyn returned a deep smile, lightly touching her forehead with her fingertips in a unique gesture of respect.

Then, Euron led her to a woman in the shadows, dressed in a dark purple dress and wearing a wooden lacquer mask. Only her emerald green eyes were visible, and her presence seemed to absorb light. "This is the Shadowbinder, Evelyn." Evelyn bowed slightly, her silence as deep as an abyss, yet impossible to ignore.

A pale, thin man stood quietly beside the bookshelf. "Scholar Qyburn," Euron introduced, his tone flat, "He is in charge of the island's knowledge and other necessary affairs." Qyburn glanced at Ashara and gave a silent bow.

Then came Dagmo's bright-eyed young son, Lloyd, who greeted Ashara with the vigor characteristic of youth. Behind them were several silent women—a "Rock Wife" whose skin was deeply etched by the sea wind and whose eyes were as resolute as rock, and Dagmo's two salt concubines, who were obedient in their demeanor.

As Euron led Ashara to the deepest corner of the hall, a tall figure, almost blending into the shadows, slowly turned around.

The flickering firelight illuminated his face, a face seemingly reshaped by war and suffering. Twisted scars covered almost his entire face, tearing his original features to shreds. His lips, due to old wounds, could not close completely, revealing a sliver of gleaming white teeth.

He seemed to want to show goodwill to the new female customer, straining his facial muscles to try and force a smile. However, this effort only made the crisscrossing scars bulge even more menacingly, resulting in an expression more unsightly than crying. His gray eyes, still clear amidst the scars, were also cold, as if devoid of human warmth.

"This is Lloyd Hutchinson," Euron's calm voice broke the brief silence. His introduction was concise and direct, without any unnecessary embellishment, as if the terrifying face itself was commonplace. "He guards for me the depths beneath the island—those who do not deserve to see the sunlight."

Upon hearing his duty, Lloyd's twisted lips seemed to twitch slightly again, before he lowered his head deeply, retreating into the shadows, transforming once more into a silent statue guarding secrets and pain.

Euron didn't explain much about each person's origins and responsibilities, but this introduction itself allowed Ashara to clearly grasp the outline of Ironwind Isle—a place where faith, magic, knowledge, loyalty, and secrecy converged, like a miniature kingdom belonging only to Euron.

Euron lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear him: "There are some secrets hidden on this island that cannot be told to outsiders for the time being. I will tell you about them slowly later."

Asara raised her amethyst-like eyes and looked into his. Without hesitation, she blinked gently, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, and then nodded obediently. "Mm."

A short and clear response conveyed complete trust and expectation.

Euron smiled slightly as he carefully led Ashara, who was carrying Daren, to a seaside room that had already been prepared. The stone walls were rough but dry, the bed was covered with thick fur, and the rhythmic sound of waves could be heard outside the window. After they were settled, he lingered for a moment to make sure there was nothing lacking before turning to leave.

When Euron returned to the castle hall, his gentle aura had vanished. The flickering torches cast his long shadow on the cold stone walls.

In the center of the hall, two figures stood silently: Lloyd Hutchinson with a ferocious expression and Maester Qyburn with a pale face, like two statues blending into the shadows of the stone wall. Only when Euron's footsteps echoed in the stone corridor did they turn simultaneously, focusing their gazes on their master.

"Let's go," Euron's voice echoed through the hall, carrying an undeniable authority, "to see how our guests are doing."

He took the lead, and the three of them followed the spiraling stone steps deeper into the island's interior. The damp air was filled with the scent of sea salt and rock.

On the night King's Landing was engulfed in flames, five fire sorcerers and Varys the spider were quietly brought back to the isolated island from the chaotic capital by Halsien.

These pyromancers, who had once served the royal family, had already learned of the devastation of King's Landing's fall and King Robert's cruel purge of the pyromancers—either beheading or eternal exile—through information deliberately "leaked" by Qyburn. With no way out, their anger and fear ultimately turned into a deathly resignation.

Now, their only desire is to have three meals a day. In exchange, deep within the island's underground caves, under Coburn's close surveillance and Lloyd's silent intimidation, they have re-erected their instruments, pouring all their despair and ingenuity into them—not to replicate the glory of their former masters, but for their new masters, in this isolated cavern, to begin developing a new type of wildfire that is more destructive, more stable, and safer and easier to use.