Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 341 The Duke of Harrenhal—Power and Duty

The towering walls of Harrenhal, built of black stone, remain structurally intact despite the last war.

It stands stubbornly, and in stark contrast to its massive and sturdy form is the irreversible decline of the He'an family.

The lack of owners and funds for effective maintenance has left this giant city with a profound sense of decay and desolation, like the remains of a giant whose soul has been taken away, an empty skeleton devoid of life.

Euron's army arrived at the city walls, the kraken banner of House Greyjoy and the banner of the Duke of Harrenhal, symbolizing his new status, fluttering in the wind. The army's iron hooves trampled the overgrown road and came to a stop before the tightly closed city gates.

Waiting for him at the city gates was Oswell Hoan, the former Kingsguard. Behind him was a carriage with its curtains drawn.

Oswell wore a faded, worn robe, his posture still faintly reminiscent of the White Knight of yesteryear, but time and sorrow had etched indelible marks on his face. He looked much older than his actual age, and deep within his once resolute eyes lay a profound and unyielding melancholy and pain. Clearly, he had not yet emerged from the shadow of his brother, nephew, and the entire family's glorious passing. Now, he had shed his white robe to embrace the future that would take over his family's former territory.

Euron didn't say much, but simply opened his arms and gave him a warm and firm hug.

Oswell Hoan's voice carried a hint of emotion: "I heard that you have been appointed Duke of Harrenhal by the King. I am truly delighted. This castle has been silent for too long, and I hope—no, perhaps only you can bring it new life."

Euron released him, looked around at the towering but somewhat desolate towers, and said frankly, "It's difficult. The burden of such a massive castle is far beyond imagination. But I will do my best."

"It's yours now." Oswell nodded, his tone turning somewhat desolate. "Then, it's time for the He'an family to leave."

"Leave?" Euron raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. "When did I say that just because I came, you were leaving?" His gaze sharpened as he looked directly at Oswell. "Besides, where can you go? Exile, becoming rootless drifters?"

Before the other could answer, Euron's voice softened, filled with utmost sincerity: "Harrenhal is vast, but my heart is even greater. Stay, Oswell. This will help me, and it will help yourselves. Rebuilding this great city requires countless loyal people who know it well, and you will definitely have a place here, a place for the Riveran family."

His solemn promise struck Oswell's heart: "I assure you that when the time is right, House River will, through its achievements, reclaim its rightful lands in this region and rise again in Westeros."

Oswell turned back to look at Harrenhal, which resembled a colossal beast in the twilight, his eyes filled with reluctance and struggle. He hesitated for a moment, then finally turned around and asked in a deep voice to the carriage behind him with its curtains tightly closed, "And you? Do you wish to leave this place of sorrow, or remain here?"

The curtain was gently lifted from the inside by a slender hand.

In the dim light, the figures of Mrs. Sheila Hoan and her daughter Ariana were revealed.

Lady Heila, her face serene yet tinged with weariness, stepped down from the carriage first, nodding slightly in Euron's direction. Then, she reached out to help her daughter up.

Young Ariana stepped off the bicycle with unsteady steps. Her once vibrant face was now unusually haggard, and her once bright eyes were now clouded with lingering gloom, empty and lifeless, as if her soul had been ripped from her body.

At Lady Heila's silent signal, the mother and daughter simultaneously and respectfully bowed deeply to Euron, performing an impeccable act of courtesy. Their silence and posture clearly indicated their choice to remain in Harrenhal and submit to its new master.

This castle, once the largest and most magnificent in Westeros, now resembles the skeleton of a giant beast with its heart ripped out. The walls still stand high, and the towers still stand tall, but the emptiness within is chilling. The former hustle and bustle and the vibrancy of the city have long since vanished, leaving only deathly silence and echoes.

Walking through it, you can hardly see any people. The wide courtyard is overgrown with weeds, and only the sound of the wind can be heard in the huge hall.

The desolation before my eyes stands in stark and ironic contrast to the magnificent tournament held years ago, which attracted all the proud knights and beautiful nobles of the seven kingdoms.

The root of all this lies in the fact that the River House mistakenly sided with the Mad King Aerys during Robert's Rebellion, although the reasons for it are somewhat regrettable.

When Robert's warhammer secured victory at the Trident River and then conquered King's Landing, and the men of House Riveran were all dead, everyone knew—House Riveran was finished.

Thus, vassals, knights, soldiers, servants—all those who depended on this castle for survival, like rats sensing that their ship was about to sink, left Harrenhal and the House of Harrenhal, destined to be purged by the Iron Throne, scattering in all directions to search for new paths and masters in this newly settled chaotic world.

As Elisa stepped out of the car carrying baby Zhong'er, Ariana, who had seemed listless, suddenly brightened up. She stepped forward and softly asked, "May I hold her?"

Elisa didn't know why, but seeing Ariana's eyes, she knew that this girl had also been a mother.

After Euron nodded slightly, Elisa carefully placed the bell in Ariana's arms. Ariana squatted down, gently rocking the baby's tender body, and burst into tears. Euron wanted to go over and offer some words of comfort, but Lady Hilla gently pulled him back and shook her head, saying, "My lord, let her cry! Since returning to Harrenhal, she hasn't cried, laughed, or spoken a word. Perhaps letting her vent will make her feel better."

Euron nodded silently. Some wounds can only be healed by oneself and time. Or rather, they may not be healed, but the scabs have hardened, and the scars remain forever. Just as Ariana could never forget the day her son died tragically, nor could she forget those who harmed her son, and—the mastermind behind them!

Euron walked silently among the ruins, accompanied by Oswell Hean and Dagmore.

Erwin Snow, the bastard son of Euron who had been planted in Harrenhal for a long time in Euron's "double agent" plan, followed closely behind, carrying a heavy parchment scroll, recording his master's every instruction and observation. (Chapter 123)

As far as the eye could see, there was only decay and desolation.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The first priority, of course, was to clear away the mountains of rubble, repair the severely damaged floors inside the castle, and recover the usable stones, wood, and ironware scattered around.

If this colossal castle is to be brought back to life, it cannot do without skilled stonemasons. Euron brought back the finest stonemasons from Loras, whom he had traveled across the Narrow Sea in his youth. Now, they can finally unleash their greatest talents on Harrenhal's enormous "canvas."

Maintaining the daily operation of such a behemoth requires not only a massive number of golden dragons, but also a huge amount of manpower.

Looking at the desolate city before him, Euron knew he couldn't let it remain so barren. It needed people; only with people could a castle have life, a heartbeat.

The people of the Iron Islands will undoubtedly be his core and most loyal group. Euron will recruit them after returning to the Iron Islands, but it remains to be seen how many Ironborn will be willing to leave the sea and come to Harrenhal to follow in his footsteps.

In addition to the Ironborn, he also had to recruit other forces, including refugees from the Riverlands, landless peasants, and even bankrupt knights, to quickly build an armed force called the "Hrenburg Guard".

Although the war is over, a powerful fist is still needed to protect the vast territory.

The fine horses that had been traded from the Dothraki steppes through the scimitar trade across the Narrow Sea could also be mostly transferred here to form a cavalry regiment belonging to Harrenhal.

We also need to recruit clerks and judges, and apply to the university city to send a resident bachelor.

A myriad of issues came rushing in like a tide, and each one urgently needed to be addressed.

When faced with this vast sea of ​​tasks, Eulen felt utterly overwhelmed.