Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 361 A Man's Mouth—A Deceptive Devil

In the flowing courtyard of Sunspear, Dorne, a slight coolness could not ward off the scorching heat of Dorne.

Prince Doran Martell sat quietly in his wheelchair, which was covered with cool silk cushions, and gently placed the parchment bearing the emblem of the Greyjoy sea monster on the date-wood table.

"Take a look, all of you." His voice was calm, revealing no emotion.

Prince Oberyn the Red Viper snatched the letter, his sharp eyes quickly scanning the words. His brow furrowed deeper, then he let out a short, mocking laugh: "He's going to attack the Summer Islands?"

Oberyn slammed the letter on the table, his voice rising in disbelief: "For a foreign exiled prince, Jalaba Zor? I remember that guy, like a rain-soaked peacock, all black, good for nothing but complaining!"

Princess Ilya, sitting to the side, gracefully accepted the letter. She read it much more slowly, her gaze lingering on each word, and softly echoed, "Yes, I remember him too." With a hint of distant recollection, she smiled and said, "Back then, it was our ships that found his dilapidated little boat in the Narrow Sea and brought him back to Sunspear City. He was a poor man who had lost his home and hope."

"That's not what I meant, Elijah!" Oberyn's patience had clearly run out from the letter's contents. He abruptly stood up, pacing back and forth on the ornately tiled floor, his red and yellow robes fluttering. He roared, "I meant the Stepstone Islands! The Stepstone Islands are now a disorganized mess! Myr, Tyrosy, Rhys—those pirates and mercenary groups are fighting over carrion like vultures! What did Euron Greyjoy promise?! He promised to help us support your son, my nephew, Caesar! To make him the true King of the Stepstone Islands! And now? He's turned his ships around and, for some ridiculous excuse, launched an expedition to the Summer Isles thousands of miles away?!"

Ilya raised her eyes to look at her anxious brother, and said calmly, "Oberyn, the situation on the Stone Steps Isles is far more complex than it appears. The deeply entrenched power of those three free trade city-states means that a single move could have far-reaching consequences. Perhaps—"

Euron believed that now was not the best time to intervene, or perhaps he saw more direct and lucrative benefits in the Summer Isles.

Prince Doran remained silent, his fingers unconsciously tapping the armrest of his wheelchair. His eyes, accustomed to the dust storms of Dorne, narrowed slightly, as if piercing through the letter to see more distant seas and a more complex game of chess. He finally spoke slowly, his voice low yet carrying undeniable weight: "Euron Greyjoy never does anything pointless. What he sees is perhaps not just an exiled prince, nor merely the wealth of the Summer Isles." He paused, his gaze sweeping over his younger brother and sister, "What he sees is a new sea route that bypasses all existing impasses and leads to a more powerful future."

Prince Doran's gaze fell on his younger sister, Ilya, and he said with a teasing tone, "Our little Ilya, is she already starting to think about the little sea monster?"

Ilya remained unmoved by her brother's teasing, simply shaking her head and rationally analyzing, "Unifying the Stone Steps Islands will inevitably lead to a direct war with the Three Daughters Kingdom, comprised of Myr, Tyrosi, and Rhys." She lightly tapped her finger on the jujube wood table, saying calmly, "Even with the strength of the Iron Islands alone, fighting against an alliance of three free trading cities simultaneously will be no easy task, no matter how powerful the Greyjoy fleet is."

"In contrast, the Summer Islands are internally disorganized and their military strength is far inferior to that of the Three Daughters Kingdom. Starting with the easy tasks and then accumulating strength is the choice any wise commander would make."

"Hmph!" Oberyn swung his arm sharply, raising an eyebrow. "Such high-sounding words! Clearly, you just don't want to put in the effort for your son to become the King of the Stone Steps Islands! Delay, endless delay! Do you think you can wear down the Tyrosian navy by stalling? Can you wear down the mercenaries of Mil?"

Doran waved his hand slightly, an invisible pressure slightly suppressing Oberyn's raging anger: "The Iron Islands fleet is about to arrive," the prince said slowly, gently massaging his knee. "Since you have doubts, wouldn't it be better to ask Euron directly when the time comes and hear what his plans are?"

He paused, as if just remembering a trivial matter, and added, "Oh, by the way, Euron and Ashara's child was born, and it's a boy!"

Oberon and Elijah's eyes immediately focused on him.

"Alexander Greyjoy!"

The blazing sun cast a golden glow on the sea, and the distant coastline was clearly visible.

It was a vast expanse of scorching, reddish-brown land, like a burning flame, contrasting sharply with the azure sea. The salty sea breeze carried the crisp, tangy scent of lemon groves and the bitter, subtle fragrance of olive trees.

Ashara Dayne walked to the bow of the ship and stood beside Euron, the sea breeze gently ruffling her silver-gold hair. She gazed at the approaching red land, a bright smile on her face, a familiar smile like that of someone returning home. She turned her head, a mischievous glint in her violet eyes, and looked at her husband beside her. "Are you happy?" she asked softly, her voice as gentle as the waves.

-

Euron's gaze remained fixed on the crimson expanse. Upon hearing this, he coughed lightly and said, "Of course I'm happy." Euron smiled and said, "We've been adrift at sea for over ten days, surrounded only by water and sky. It would be best if we could set foot on solid ground again and allow the warriors to rest for a couple of days."

Asara gave a soft hum, her voice tinged with a hint of coquettishness: "Really? I mean, we'll be seeing Princess Ilya soon, are you excited?" She deliberately pronounced "Ilya" clearly and melodiously, her gaze fixed intently on Euron's face, not missing a single subtle expression from him.

Euron turned to meet Ashara's gaze. He didn't answer immediately, but instead reached out and gently brushed aside the strands of hair ruffled by the sea breeze, his touch tender and delicate. He leaned closer, his voice deep and clear, piercing through the sea breeze and the sound of the waves, reaching straight to her heart: "The Dornish sun, however bright, cannot illuminate my lonely soul. In my heart, from beginning to end, there has only been one lady, and that is you, my beautiful, gentle, virtuous, and intelligent wife, Ashara Dayne!"

Asara paused slightly, and then the smile that had been tentative finally turned into a warm light in her eyes.

Three lithe figures, like startled pearl birds, darted out from the side and swiftly positioned themselves between Euron and Ashara.

The three sisters of Lonely Lamp Island linked arms, forming a flexible barrier, and playfully pulled Ashara away from Euron.

"Don't believe his sweet talk!" one of the sisters, dressed in a light green gauze dress, spoke first, her voice clear and crisp.

"Yes!" The other woman, dressed in pale yellow, nodded vigorously, her expression as serious as if she were announcing a law. "A man's words are the least reliable!"

"Especially when it suddenly becomes really sweet," the third person in the light blue dress chimed in, completing a seamless ensemble, "she's definitely planning to deceive people!"

Euron was taken aback by this sudden disruption, then nearly burst out laughing in exasperation. He waved his hand helplessly, as if shooing away tiny flies circling around honey, and chuckled, "Go away, go away, this is none of your business. Besides, when did I lie to her? Everything I said just now was the truth."

The three sisters exchanged knowing glances and then launched into another barrage of questions: "You said it yourself!"

"Just a few days ago, on deck!"

"When you taught Asha, you said, 'Remember, little sea monster, don't believe a man's words easily, especially when he suddenly starts showering you with sweet words; he's definitely plotting to deceive you!'"

They spoke in unison, perfectly mimicking his tone, and then all six eyes, gleaming with triumph, fixed on Euron.

Euron: "————"

He opened his mouth, only to find himself speechless for a moment.

Those casual words, spoken to warn her niece to be wary of strangers, were now being thrown back at her verbatim, becoming irrefutable evidence. Asara, protected behind her three sisters, covered her mouth and chuckled softly, a smile more dazzling than the Dornish sun—