Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 418 A Victory Before the Battle - Faros

The news of Lisa and the two female sorceresses' quiet departure was strictly controlled within a very small circle of people. For their safety and the success of the upcoming operation, this was a secret that needed to be kept absolutely confidential. Only Baron and a few island lords whom Euron considered core members were notified the following morning and were instructed to keep quiet.

The Iron Islands fleet rested overnight in the port. As dawn broke the next day, with the deep commands of the captains and the signals of the flags, the oars were neatly plunged into the water, the huge sails were raised one after another, and the fleet set sail again, steadily and resolutely leaving Vahal and heading towards the next stop of this expedition, the island of Great Morak.

Donald Drum stood on the beach, clutching the symbol of the governor's authority tightly in his hand. He tried to maintain a composed and resolute expression, but his heart was already split in two. One half was excited about the land before him, while the other half drifted into the vast sea with the departing sails of the fleet.

The fleet sailed north along the rugged coastline of Great Morakot Island, and the outline of a city nestled at the river mouth gradually came into view.

Faros—the island's northern core port, like a pearl set on the coastline, quietly unfolds before the conquerors.

The city is situated at the mouth of a wide river on the northwest coast of the island, a uniquely advantageous geographical location that makes it a…

As a natural harbor, and the undisputed northern core port of Great Morakot, it has long been developed into a key hub connecting Qarth with the distant northern barbarian lands, thanks to the gentle terrain of the river mouth and the dense trade routes radiating to the surrounding seas.

Farros's economic pulse is entirely driven by trade.

This is a vital trading hub controlled by the "Thirteen Giants," the most powerful members of the Qarth Merchant Guild, and every inch of the dock is imbued with the aura of gold.

Luxury goods from Qarth—smooth, silky silks, fragrant spices, and dazzling jewels—were unloaded here and then reloaded onto ships heading north to the legendary cities of the Iberian lands, such as Asaberhard and Ichi. Conversely, precious Iberian products—heavy gold, lustrous jade, and thick furs—were also channeled through Pharos into Qarth's vast trade network that spanned the known world.

When the Iron Islands fleet appeared on the horizon of Faros, slowly sailing into the waters outside the port like a dark cloud looming overhead, the expected tense defensive preparations, the mobilization of soldiers, or the blockade of the port did not materialize.

The port was still operating, but with an eerie calm.

There was no fleet to meet the enemy, no fortresses to hold the line, not even a symbolic protest. The resolute resistance that had been anticipated vanished like a thin mist blown away by the sea breeze.

The reason quickly became clear: the "Big Three," who controlled the lifeline of this place, these shrewd and calculating business tycoons of Qarth, had already made the same choice as they had on Little Morak. They had quietly withdrawn their key personnel and most easily transferable liquid assets, completely abandoning Faros, a crucial trading hub, leaving it like a chess piece that had lost most of its value, to a new player.

Euron stood at the bow of the ship, gazing at the undefended gates of wealth, and scoffed, "Such a large city, such an important trading hub, and those milkmen of Qarth just give it up like that—" He deliberately emphasized the term "milkmen"—the people of Qarth, due to their tall stature and unusually pale skin, were longtime despised by the fierce Dothraki as "milkmen," a term filled with contempt for the pampered: "Truly underestimate their 'courage,' or rather, their cowardice."

Lord Harlo pondered for a moment, then guessed, "My lord, perhaps it's because of the recent series of battles between the Summer Islands and the Serpent Islands that they have clearly recognized our strength, and the Qars have also seen the reality, no longer daring to confront our Iron Fleet head-on. They have simply abandoned these peripheral ports to preserve their strength."

The Tawney family, the lords of Oak Isle, offered a different perspective: "Or perhaps they hope to use this compromise and concession, offering these ports as a gift, in exchange for us Iron Islands ceasing our eastward expansion and stopping our attack on their homeland, Qarth?"

As Euron listened to his subordinate's analysis, he let out a low, ambiguous "heh heh."

"Whether they back down out of fear or are plotting to give up the island in exchange for peace," Euron sneered, "for us, this piece of meat delivered right to our mouths, this port controlling the shipping lanes, is not something we should let go of. Give the order to take over this place!"

When the flagship's launch pad was lowered with a bang, the scene that appeared before us was the "usual" one we were all expecting.

On the shore, a large group of people knelt down, stretching from the dock all the way to the street corner.

Without exception, they all raised their hands high, holding rusty scimitars or rough-polished short axes in their palms. They stretched out their arms, raised their weapons as high as possible above their heads, and lowered their heads, not daring to meet the eyes of the Iron People who had landed.

The synchronized, symbolic gesture of submission caused Baron, who had just stepped onto the dock, to burst into laughter. He waved his muscular arm, pointing to the scene before him, his booming voice filled with undisguised smugness: "Look! From now on, this posture should become the standard posture that everyone who wants to submit to the Iron Islands must learn!"

His words, though tinged with mockery, accurately captured the new order brought about by the military might of the Iron Islands. The surrounding island lords, upon hearing this, all smiled knowingly and nodded in unison.

"King Baron is right!"

"That's how it should be! Everyone should remember this pose!"

They echoed this sentiment with great approval, seeing the humble scene before them as the best proof of their military exploits and glory. The silent kneeling and raised weapons were no longer simple surrenders, but a new ritual belonging to the conquerors, which should become a symbol of the Iron Islands, just like the "Crown of the Sea."

Euron simply smiled faintly at this.

Among the prostrate, kneeling crowd, weapons raised high, only one figure in splendid attire remained standing, like a stubborn rock in a raging torrent. He did not kneel, but merely bowed slightly, performing a simple, even somewhat reserved, gesture of respect, which stood out starkly against the backdrop of utter submission.

He wore an exquisitely crafted silk robe adorned with beads; its deep purple base was rich and noble, highlighting the wearer's extraordinary status. The robe was embellished with countless tiny pearls and finely cut gemstones, shimmering with a warm and dazzling luster in the sunlight. The cuffs and collar were further decorated with intricate patterns embroidered with expensive gold thread, each stitch a testament to luxury.

This attire was typical of nobles or wealthy merchants of high status among the Qarth people.

He stood in stark contrast to the coarse-clad, fearful commoners and pirates around him, proclaiming his extraordinary origins.