Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

When the distinctive black sails of the "Havoc" finally pierced through the perennial mist of Braavos Harbor and slowly approached the bustling dock, a well-dressed man with a shrewd yet respectful expression had been waiting in the designated spot for quite some time.

Mario Romis, one of Euron's pawns planted deep within this water city, was now greeting his master with an air of grandeur far exceeding that of ordinary merchants. Behind him followed several burly men who appeared to be servants but possessed sharp eyes, swiftly and effectively separating the curious crowd around them and clearing a space for Euron.

Almost simultaneously, another large group also entered the dock in a grand procession.

They outnumbered the rest, their equipment a mixed bag yet exuding the fierce courage of battle veterans. Embroidered on their armor and banners was a deadly serpent with its head raised and tongue flicking out—the Red Viper mercenary group, which had recently risen to prominence in the disputed lands.

The mercenaries' rough laughter and the clanging of their weapons instantly drowned out the noise at the dock.

Euron's gaze swept over his loyal agent, then became firmly drawn to the figure of the mercenary leader. The man was tall and imposing, dressed in a magnificent Dornish-style velvet coat and scale armor, with dark skin and a pair of black eyes that burned with an insatiable energy and a dangerous glint.

Balf had met this Dornish man before and was deeply impressed by him, because of his noble status and unique personality and style. So he immediately reminded Euron, "He is Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne, nicknamed the Red Viper. I've seen him before, there's no mistake!"

Euron's heterochromatic pupils contracted slightly, and a rare hint of genuine surprise flashed through his mind—Oberon Nameros Martell?

Why is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne here, dressed as a mercenary?

Euron's consciousness rapidly retraced its steps, and all the fragments of information about the prince were instantly pieced together: Oberyn Martell (258 AC-300 AC), who ultimately perished in King's Landing.

In his youth, the rulers of Dorne sought a marriage alliance with Casterly Rock, allowing him to meet the Lannisters' golden boy and his dwarf brother. However, what truly earned him the title "Red Viper" was his famous duel with Lord Edgar Erenwood when he was sixteen. The Earl died from his festering wounds, and everyone believed Oberyn Martell had poisoned his sword; from then on, the nickname "Red Viper" stuck with him.

In the original story, he did indeed serve as a mercenary for five years in the disputed lands across the Narrow Sea, first serving the Second Sons and later forming his own team.

Despite his racing thoughts, You Lun maintained his usual detached smile.

One was one of Dorne's most noble princes, and the other was the son of the drowning god of the Iron Islands; they had met at the docks of Braavos.

Oberyn's talent was as astonishing as his danger; his poisons were as deadly as his spears, and his loyalty... was as unpredictable as a summer storm. His "reputation" was no fluke—passionate, intelligent, vindictive, and utterly unscrupulous.

"What an unexpected companion," Euron thought with a cold sneer, his gaze lingering briefly on Oberyn before returning to his own. "A beautiful yet deadly desert serpent has swum to the other side of the Narrow Sea... Should it be seen as a wieldable blade, or a cup of poison that could turn on you at any moment?"

In this context, trust becomes the most extravagant and unwise thought.

As the massive black hull of the "Drinking Spree" slowly approached the bustling docks of Braavos like a ghost, before the mooring lines were even fully secured, a figure greeted them with just the right amount of enthusiasm and respect. Mario Romis, Euron's mole planted deep within this Key City, was now perfectly playing the role of a shrewd and somewhat powerful local liaison.

"Your Excellency! Welcome to Braavos!" Mario's voice was loud yet polite. He bowed slightly, his movements fluid and natural, expressing respect without drawing excessive attention from the dockworkers and vendors around him.

His gaze swept quickly over Euron and the elite Ironborn behind him, and after confirming everything was in order, his smile became even more genuine. "The voyage will surely be incredibly arduous. Mareo has taken care of everything for you: hot water, hot food, and a completely quiet place to rest."

His words were like a well-rehearsed script, flawless. Then, as if only then noticing the well-equipped and menacing team beside him, he turned to them at just the right moment, his face displaying the admiration typical of a businessman for potential partners.

"Ah, I presume you've already witnessed the prowess of this renowned force during your voyage?" Mario gestured gracefully, pointing towards the Red Viper Mercenary Group. "Please allow me the honor of introducing them to you, sir. These valiant warriors are the Red Viper Mercenary Group. Recently, in the disputed lands, their name has been enough to strike fear into the hearts of even the most stubborn enemies. Their leader…"

His gaze fell on Oberon Martell, who was observing the meeting with a keen interest.

Mario's voice carried a perfectly measured hint of admiration: "He is indeed a truly exceptional leader, Captain Oberon. His bravery and wisdom are widely renowned throughout the mercenary circles of the entire western shore of Essos. That you, sir, could arrive at the same time as them and meet them in Braavos is undoubtedly a clever arrangement of fate, perhaps foreshadowing a successful collaboration."

Mario's words, like a smooth silken layer, attempted to frame this chance encounter as a positive omen, both flattering the mercenary group and subtly showcasing his own well-informed and matchmaking skills to Euron. Under his manipulation, the entire scene appeared to be a carefully orchestrated, mutually beneficial reunion, rather than a chance meeting of two dangerous forces fraught with uncertainty.

"Mario, thank you for your hospitality!" Euron then gave the mercenary leader a standard Westeros noble greeting and said with a smile, "Oberyn Martell, I have long admired your name. I never expected to meet you on the other side of the Narrow Sea, let alone that a prince would form a mercenary group."

"Have you seen me before?"

"I've never had the chance, but everyone in my entourage who has met the Prince has been deeply impressed by you."

Oberyn blinked and chuckled, "Don't you feel that you're not as good as you've heard?"

"Far more famous than he is! That's why I feel uneasy having a prince as my bodyguard."

Oberyn Martell let out a short, low laugh upon hearing Euron's words, a laugh tinged with self-mockery and undeniable pride. He raised his head slightly, his famous eyes, burning with black flames, meeting Euron's heterochromatic pupils without flinching.

"Guards?" he repeated, his tone light, as if he had heard an amusing joke. "Lord Greyjoy, you may have overestimated the weight of the title east of the Narrow Sea, and underestimated the serpent's careful selection of its hunting grounds."

He took a step forward, his movements as graceful as a leopard surveying its territory, completely ignoring the salty sea breeze and the savage mercenaries around him. "In Dorne, the sun bakes the red earth, the flowing gardens are filled with sweet intrigue, and I am a prince, my every word and action concerning the lion and the banner of House Martell. But here," he casually gestured toward the vast and chaotic eastern continent, the bronze bracelet on his wrist clinking, "in the dust raised by the contested lands, under the glittering gold of Pentos and the Slave Bay, the title of prince is meaningless. Here, only two things matter: the sharpness of your blade, and the credibility of your contracts."

“I am here not as anyone’s prince,” his gaze sharpened, but the signature, dangerous smile remained on his lips, “but as the leader of the Red Viper Mercenary Group, an expert who gets paid to do things. My reputation—good or bad, whether you’ve heard it—is built on my ability to get things done, not on my bloodline. Your unease is unnecessary and an offense to my professionalism. You should be worried about whether you can pay enough, not about whose son I am.”

His final words carried a hint of cold irony, both frankly acknowledging the complexity of his identity and firmly drawing a line—here, he would only follow the rules of mercenaries.

"Then, we'll need the group leader to take good care of you for the rest of the journey!"

Since he was already there, Euron was not afraid. He just didn't want the "Red Viper" to discover his secret on the other side of the Narrow Sea. With him by his side, he would have to be more careful in his future actions.