Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 420 Falco Blacktes – The New Official Takes Office

Falco Blackteis was indeed decisive and efficient.

On his second day in office, he rushed to Euron's residence, eager to prove himself, and began to report to his king what he had learned overnight.

"My lord," Falco's voice was slightly hurried with excitement, "I've asked around, and the workers, sailors, and even many small merchants of Faros have long harbored a burning rage against the Merchants' Guild of Qarth."

He elaborated, "Under the heavy taxation and exploitation of the Merchant Guild of Qarth, especially the Thirteen Masters, the 'Golden Age' that Faros once enjoyed had long since come to a desolate end."

"The most devastating blow came three years ago," Falco said indignantly. "The Thirteen Lords of Qarth, under the pretext of 'rectifying trade order,' brazenly raised the export tax on spices, on which Faros depended for its survival, by a full thirty percent! And that wasn't enough; they also fabricated various pretexts to forcibly levy so-called port maintenance fees!"

He took a deep breath and exposed the injustice behind it all: "Everyone knows that this huge sum of money ultimately flowed into the private coffers of those noble lords in Qarth, but what was the result? Faros' own dockworkers, whose incomes were exploited at every turn, are now barely able to afford even a decent amount of dark bread!"

He then recounted a specific incident that ignited resentment throughout the city: "A year ago, the tax collector Qarth sent here, that guy nicknamed 'Redbeard' Volker, in order to force a family to pay their taxes, actually—" Falco's voice trembled with anger, "He actually hanged an old weaver, who was unable to repay his debts, in front of the stone bull statue in the market square!"

"This news spread like wildfire throughout the city," he said in a deep voice, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of opportunity. "Since then, the dockworkers, the ostracized spice merchants, and the compassionate lower-ranking priests have begun to secretly gather at the Temple of the Stone Bull. They swear to smash the shackles Qarth has placed around our necks! My lord, the hearts of the people here are invaluable!"

Euron looked up at him after hearing this and smiled, "Indeed, this intelligence will be very beneficial to your future rule. Knowing what they hate most will help you avoid repeating their mistakes."

Falco Blackes was overjoyed to see his efforts recognized, and his face showed the undisguised pride typical of young people.

Euron's tone turned flat, even cold, as if pouring cold water on a conversation: "What's with all the excitement! Just because they don't like the Qarth Merchants' Guild today doesn't mean they'll like you tomorrow." He turned, his sharp eyes fixed on the speechless Falco, and said, "Popular support? Tell me, how do you plan to use it? Do you expect them to take up arms and become your warriors, charging into battle for you, shielding you from swords? Or do you expect these dockworkers and merchants to help you cross the sea to attack Qarth?"

Falco Blacktes was stumped by the series of questions. He scratched his head unconsciously, his excitement replaced by confusion.

"Take Qarth's actions as a warning!" Euron walked back to him, his tone softening but carrying greater weight. "Being a proper lord is neither that complicated nor that simple. The most important thing is not to exploit their hatred, but to ensure they have food to eat, clothes to wear, and a peaceful life, and to use the sword in your hand to truly protect them from humiliation."

Euron patted the young governor on the shoulder one last time, his tone both expectant and warning: "Do these most fundamental things well. I think, with your abilities, you can definitely become an excellent lord."

Falco Blacktes took a deep breath, straightened his back, and replied with a firm gaze, "Yes, sir! I will do my best!"

Euron mentioned a detail that Falco had overlooked: "There's a saying in Qarth: 'It's harder to get money from royalty than to milk the stone bull of Pharos.' Have you heard it?"

Falco Blacktes paused for a moment and said, "I know about the stone bull; it seems to be a belief of the Pharos people."

Euron turned around, staring into Falco's eyes, and said, word by word, "The Pharos Stone Bull is not just a statue; it is the chief god worshipped by the Pharos people for generations, their spiritual anchor, just like the drowning god we Iron People worship."

"The Pharos people's hatred for the Qarth people stemmed not only from heavy taxes, but also largely from the Qarth people's disrespect and insult towards their faith and their irreverence for the sacred Pharos bull. That deep-seated contempt was more painful than swords."

Euron said solemnly, “Remember, to rule here, you must respect their beliefs. As long as their Stone Bull faith does not conflict with the laws of our Iron Islands, the teachings of the Drowned God, or harm our interests, then you must protect it, even showing it more respect than the Pharos. This is not weakness, but wisdom.”

Falco Blacktes' expression became extremely solemn. He nodded solemnly, deeply imprinting this teaching concerning the foundation of his rule into his mind.

"I understand, sir. I will respect their stone ox as I would the drowning god."

Euron nodded slightly, his expression serious. He pointed to the hazy sea to the northeast and said in a deep voice, "Remember, Farros is the closest outpost to Qarth that we currently control. Its value far exceeds that of an ordinary port city."

He paused, then continued his instructions, each word carrying a heavy weight: "We will leave five hundred of our most elite Ironborn warriors here to garrison, under your command." His gaze returned to Falco's face, his instructions clear and specific: "You need to be mindful of far more than just security and tax revenue within Faros City; your vision must extend far beyond that. Ensure unimpeded communication with Vahar Island and Little Morak Island."

He lowered his voice and emphasized, "You must be like a sea eagle, keeping a close eye on Qarth's every move. We need to know the slightest thing that happens in the city, the unusual gathering of merchant ships, and even the whispers that circulate in the port."

Euron reached out and patted his strong shoulder firmly, the force conveying both trust and pressure: "Brother, your task is no small matter."

Falco Blacktes felt his blood boil, his face flushed crimson with excitement and a surge of responsibility. He clenched his right fist and slammed it heavily against the leather armor on his left breastplate, producing a dull thud. His voice trembled slightly with excitement, yet it was exceptionally loud: "In the name of the Drowning God, I, Falco Blacktes, will do my utmost to live up to your trust, sir!"