Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 393 Marching into the Serpent Lizard Islands

The lizard archipelago is experiencing a "grand occasion" unseen in a century.

The taverns in various ports were packed with idle pirates, and the heavy smell of ale and sweat filled the air all day long.

These once-powerful outlaws are now like wild beasts trapped in a cage, passing the time by drinking, gambling, womanizing, and fighting—for a whole month, not a single pirate ship dared to set sail.

Ever since the Iron Islands fleet stretched like an iron chain across the waters surrounding the Summer Islands, this once free waterway has become a line of life and death.

"No leaving, no entering"—the ban brought by that golden sea monster flag was simple yet cruel.

There are always a few reckless daredevils who, under the cover of night, raise their sails, attempting to break through that invisible blockade. But the occasional charred planks drifting ashore and the tattered sails washed ashore by the tide silently proclaim the same fate:

Trying often means certain death.

So these hot-tempered pirates could only stay in the tavern day after day, drinking cheap rum while gazing out the window at the blockaded sea.

Everyone was waiting, waiting for the war in the far south to end.

The news, like a seagull breaking free from its cage, finally spread across the entire sea three days ago.

-

Messenger ships sailed through various ports with their sails billowing, nailing gilded documents to the wooden doors of every tavern.

The news of Jalabah Zor's coronation as King of the Summer Islands, carried on the salty sea breeze, reached the ears of every sailor; the news of Tessia Greyjoy becoming Queen was like a grain of salt falling into a wine glass, stirring up a complex flavor among all the whispering lips.

Greyjoy!?

Sailors on the masts passed around parchment stained with sea foam, gamblers in the taverns finally threw away their moldy dice, and even slave traders in the harbor began to quietly pack their crates—when the golden sea monster flag fluttered in the wind atop the palace of the Summer Islands, everyone understood that the rules of this sea had been rewritten.

The merchant fleet began cleaning their rusted anchors, while the pirates watched the tides to calculate their return.

But the three announcements that followed immediately brought the pirates, who were just about to set sail, to a sudden halt, their brows furrowing in deep concern.

The first message, like ice, instantly froze all restless hearts—the entire Summer Islands now flew the golden sea monster flag, and the Iron Islands declared themselves the permanent protectors of this bountiful archipelago. The "Ice and Fire Merchant Guild," established by the Iron Islands, became the sole channel for trade with the Summer Islands. The announcement concluded with a chilling, steely edge: "Anyone who dares to harm the interests of the Summer Islands is an enemy of the entire Iron Islands."

The second piece of news sent a chill down everyone's spine—the Iron Fleet, fresh from the war to unify the Summer Islands, did not return in triumph as was customary, but instead continued south, its steel prows pointing towards more distant, unknown waters. This tireless fleet seemed like an insatiable sea monster.

The final declaration carried a chilling personal will. Lord of the Sea Beasts, Crown of the Sea Bones, Lord of the Stone Steps Islands...

Lord Euron Greyjoy of Westeros personally declared that he had placed Nath under his wing. From the moment the golden krait flag was planted on that beach, anyone who continued to set foot on Nath and enslave its people would become his mortal enemy. The words "mortal enemy" carried the stench of blood.

In the tavern, the hands that had just reached for weapons silently withdrew, and the captains, who were preparing to set sail, looked at each other in bewilderment.

They realized that the blockade might be over, but a much larger iron curtain, covering the entire sea, was just beginning to fall.

On the high seas.

Zhiyuan.

Inside the operations hall, the sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, blew through and caused the golden sea monster flag to flutter.

King Baron tapped his knuckles heavily on the oak table, causing the wine glass to tremble slightly.

Why wasn't the third declaration named after the Iron Islands?

He exchanged puzzled glances with several island owners, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Euron stood in front of the nautical chart, the location of Nas Island gently pressed down by a mother-of-pearl.

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As he turned, his heterochromatic eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the dim light. "Because Nass Island cannot provide the Iron Islands with gold, silver, and ports," Euron explained calmly, "I cannot allow the Ironborn to bleed for my personal will."

Euron walked to the window, gazing at the masts of the longships on the sea, and sighed, "Those Nath people who can't even hold a knife properly need someone to build a high wall between them and the slave traders. But this wall—" he tapped his fingertips on the windowpane, "should not be built with the bones of the Ironborn of the Iron Islands."

The cries of seagulls drifted from afar, accompanied by his final whisper: "What I want to protect should not become a burden on the entire Iron Islands."

King Baron slammed his fist heavily on the oak table, causing the rum in his glass to spill out and filling the entire council chamber with its strong aroma.

"What do you mean by that?!" King Balon's roar was like a crashing wave, shaking the war hall. "You are the commander of this expedition of the Iron Islands! You are Euron of House Greyjoy of the Iron Islands! What do you mean, 'your business' and 'my business'? Your business is the business of the Iron Islands!"

An island lord with a scar on his face suddenly stood up: "You're right! Do you think we Iron Citizens are afraid of trouble?"

“We are all aware of the situation on Nas Island,” another, older Harlow family lord chimed in, stroking his gray beard, and sighed, “Those poor souls who can’t even hold a knife properly—Euron, we shouldn’t have been excluded from this matter.”

The young island lord, who was sitting in the corner, slammed his hand on the table and stood up: "Besides, insulting you is insulting the entire Iron Islands! Just as you protect the interests of the Iron Islands, we will also protect your oath."

"Now that the Golden Kraken Flag has been planted on that land, it signifies that Nas Island is an affiliated island of the Iron Islands." The last island lord said in a deep voice, "Anyone who dares to disregard our flag is provoking the entire Iron Islands! That's not just your problem, Euron!"

Euron's gaze slowly swept over each indignant face, those weathered by the sea breeze etched with unwavering loyalty. He nodded slightly and chuckled, "It was my oversight. From now on, I will inform you all of any such decisions in advance."

The crowd's expressions improved slightly.

Changing the subject, Euron pointed to the area of ​​the Basilisk Islands on the nautical chart. "Now," his voice suddenly turned cold, "it's time to take on this tough nut."

All eyes were focused on the sea area painted with skulls and tentacles. It was a den of slave traders, a haven for pirates, a laboratory for blood mages, and a cesspool where the dregs of the world converged.

Euron's heterochromatic eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty light as he coldly said, "Send the order to every lair in the Serpent Islands, tell them that the Iron Islands will become the sole rulers here. They have only two choices."

"Kneel and submit under the golden sea monster's banner, or—"

"To be forever sunk in the depths of this sea they have defiled."

King Baron suddenly burst into thunderous laughter, grabbed the wine flask, tilted his head back, and drank it down.

The liquor dripped down his beard onto the deck, much like the blood of a premature sacrifice.