Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 410 New Giss—We've arrived!

Inside the grand council chamber where the New Gis power core was located, the somber atmosphere was almost tangible.

The obsidian walls absorbed the excess light, leaving only the massive round table inlaid with gold and ivory, which shimmered with a heavy, luxurious luster under the glow of the bronze lampstand from Qarth.

Seated around him were six benevolent rulers who controlled the lifeline of this military city-state, and a debate that would determine the future of New Gis was unfolding.

"Could we be their next target?" Max Mo Kantak, the benevolent leader, broke the silence first. His voice was dry, without him even realizing it. His knuckles unconsciously tapped repeatedly on the beautifully engraved harpy emblem on the table, as if seeking a sense of calm from the cold touch.

The relatively calm one was Gerhard Zorahzan, who slowly stroked his carefully groomed mustache and analyzed, "Calm down, my old friend. What has arrived at our port at this moment are merely a few merchant ships flying the Merchant Guild's flag. Those truly terrifying Iron Islands warships, flying the golden sea monster flag, are still like sleeping sea beasts, firmly anchored at the distant Serpent Islands."

“Gerhard is right.” Hoder Zo Faza took over the conversation, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone present, his voice resolute: “Our intelligence is very accurate. Of the Iron Islands’ high-ranking officials who accompanied this small caravan, only Euron Greyjoy is among them.”

The obese benevolent Robert N. Giesen kept wiping non-existent beads of sweat from his smooth brow with a silk handkerchief from Mil, his voice tinged with obvious hesitation: "They haven't shown any hostility yet. But how should we receive this—uninvited 'distinguished guest'?"

"In my opinion, why go through all this trouble!" The benevolent Lucas zo Yazak slammed his hands on the table, interrupting forcefully, "Simply refuse entry to their merchant fleet! We must not allow them to enter the city so easily, like hyenas sniffing out carrion, to ascertain our strength and prepare for their next attack!"

At this moment, Sitzdalla Zo Lorak, who had been silent like a shadow, slowly raised his eyelids and asked in return, "Refuse?" His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears. He said in a low voice, "Does anyone here not know that the so-called Ice and Fire Merchant Guild is actually the Iron Islands' tentacles reaching out to the mainland, created by the owner of the 'Zhiyuan'?"

What's the difference between rejecting his merchant guild and slapping that sea monster lord across the face?

He slowly surveyed the diverse expressions on the faces around the round table, finally posing a weighty question: "Gentlemen, have you considered how you will bear the wrath of a being capable of commanding deep-sea monsters and reducing the entire Basilisk Islands to dust within weeks if you refuse?"

The council chamber fell into a deathly silence; even the crackling of the flames burning in the lampstands could be clearly heard.

Lucas Mo Ritznak's expression shifted several times, his lips trembled, and finally, unwilling to give up, he pressed on, "Then—in your opinion, what should we do?"

Sizdalar Zo Lorak leaned back slightly, disappearing into the shadows of the light, his voice echoing in the hall: "Until we know his true intentions, maintain impeccable politeness on the surface, give him the most solemn public welcome befitting his status, and offer him a generous gift commensurate with his power. At the very least, we must not be the fools who provoke him and ignite the flames of anger that could burn New Giss to ashes."

Max Mo Kantak took a deep breath, as if making a firm decision, and slammed his hand heavily on the table, declaring, "That's it! We won't provoke them, but at the grand welcoming ceremony, we must let them see our Unsullied, our Iron Legion, our war elephants with their own eyes! We must make them understand that New Gith is far superior to those rabble from the Basilisk Islands!"

The benevolent guests nodded in unison, and the oppressive atmosphere eased slightly. They then began to discuss in hushed tones the specific details of the welcoming ceremony, as well as the crucial gift—how much it should be to maintain decorum while temporarily appeasing the approaching sea monster.

Euron Greyjoy tapped his knuckles on the gunwale of the Ice and Fire Merchant Guild's Tide, the salty sea breeze ruffling his long, dark hair as he gazed towards the vast, misty south.

The lucrative prize of Newgis had already been marked with a scarlet mark on Euron's map of ambition. It wasn't that he hadn't considered swallowing it whole; on the contrary, the thought often popped into his mind, especially while he was on his way there.

But the rich coastline of Slave Bay was by no means a soft, easily breached hinterland.

Newgis is not an isolated island; it has formed an unbreakable alliance with the three great cities of Slaver's Bay—Astabo, Yunkai, and Meereen—forged in gold and chains. They are a multi-headed sea monster, and touching one will awaken the other three hideous heads.

A battle formation of tens of thousands of Unsullied, silent as a rock, sharp as a razor; war elephants draped in colorful carpets strutted with legs as large as pillars, each step causing the earth to tremble, their charge capable of crushing the most impregnable lines; mercenary bands, with keen senses and fearless courage, circled like vultures, pecking at carrion for the highest-paying employer; and then there were the countless slave soldiers, driven by lashing, and the well-equipped, disciplined Gith Iron Legion—

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Taking on this tough challenge will not be easy.

Newgis and its allies in Slaver's Bay, like a group of hedgehogs draped in gold and steel, huddled on the warm sands of the South.

It's only a matter of time before we deal with them.

At that time, it will be a war that stains the entire Slaver's Bay with blood, and the cost will be so heavy that even the gods in heaven will suffocate. It just needs a more opportune moment.

Now—

Euron's thoughts, like a compass drawn by a magnet, steadfastly pointed further east, to the land shrouded in a mist of spices, magic, and endless wealth—Qarth.

That legendary city, known as the "Mirror of the World." Behind its triple walls lies a wealth that would make even the gods envious, a wine that flows with the night dew that grants eternal youth, and an ancient and powerful secret.

Qarth's value, on Euron's scales, is more tempting than that of Newgis.

Moreover, Euron had whispered in Lisa's ear, promising her the crown of Queen of Qarth. That was not empty sweet talk, but part of his contract, a key pawn in his ambition.

Neogis represents powerful military strength and a stable slave-owning empire—real power. Qarth represents the gateway to a wider world further east, the lever that can pry open the known world—and Euron's promise to Lisa.

A five-day voyage.

When the somber outline of the sea finally appeared on the distant horizon, the sailors on deck grinned – "We've arrived!"

This island is like a black nightmare rising from the seabed, composed of jagged black volcanic rock. From a distance, one can feel a wild and desolate atmosphere.

As the ship slowly approached, the island's details gradually became clear—the surface was rugged and rocky, as if repeatedly hammered by a giant's warhammer. The soil was a deathly grayish-white, like ashes eroded by time after being burned in a great fire.

It is said that a scholar once tested the soil and found it to be rich in salt, sulfur, and a strange bone meal. He whispered that this might be the vicious evidence left behind by the terrible curse that struck when the Gugis Empire collapsed, causing this land to refuse the favor of most life.

Surrounding the island, fang-like reefs lurk beneath the sea, silently warning any intruders.

The only entrance is the carefully utilized natural harbor on the east side. The harbor is not large, but thanks to the volcanic formation, the water is deep enough to accommodate large warships.

As the bow plunged into the relatively calm waters of the harbor, the entire city of New Gis was laid bare before our eyes.

The hot, humid air, like a soaked blanket, instantly enveloped everyone, carrying a pungent smell of sulfur and sea salt.

Looking around, the island is sparsely vegetated, with only some drought-resistant cacti standing like silent sentinels and a few clumps of listless shrubs dotting the cracks in the rocks. The only place that can be described as gentle is a small patch of black sand beach at the foot of the cliff on the leeward side, which is also the main activity area for the island's residents, with a few simple huts scattered here and there.

The construction of New Gis City followed the ruthless military traditions of the Ancient Gis Empire.

The entire layout is compact and efficient, leaving no room for comfort or aesthetics. At its core lies the port in front and the military camps and training grounds faintly visible in the distance. A low but exceptionally sturdy black wall tightly surrounds the city, making it more like a massive, single-function military fortress than a city.

The stone-built docks stretched out from the shore like stiff arms, next to several sturdy warehouses filled with grain, weapons, and defensive equipment.

Beside the dock, a few simple taverns and inns stood with their doors wide open, like lurking stone monsters, waiting for passing merchants and mercenaries to squander the jingling silver coins in their pockets.

Above all these buildings, a flag fluttered lazily in the dull sea breeze—it was the harpy embroidered on faded red cloth, the terrifying symbol of the Gugis Empire.

The outlines of her claws and wings remained sharp, as if reminding everyone who arrived here who was the law of this cursed land.