Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 436 Departure - The Mysterious City

"Who wants to go to Assassin—!?"

Euron's voice was carried far on the sea breeze.

When Euron and the island lords stood on the highest terrace of Ray-Ma and addressed the Ironborn fleet gathered at the port, the entire coastline fell silent.

Euron surveyed the weathered faces below and continued, "We're just going for a look around, nothing more. Those who want to go can sign up; those who don't, there's no pressure, feel free to stay!"

Before Euron's words had even finished, the next second—

"Wow!"

Count me in!

"And me!"

The response erupted from every corner of the port, starting as scattered shouts and then merging into a deafening roar.

Not a single person hesitated, and not a single person backed down.

The veteran sailors patted their comrades on the shoulder excitedly, the young men jumped up and waved their hats, and even the most composed captains showed genuine smiles.

This is not about obeying a call to action; it's more like a long-buried spark being ignited in an instant.

The frenzied cheers, shouts, and whistles merged into a powerful sonic wave that impacted every inch of the harbor, even making the stone slabs beneath one's feet seem to tremble. The sound wave soared into the sky, shaking the entire Thunder Island.

For these iron-willed men, born and buried by the sea, the ability to explore the legendary ends of the world is the greatest reward. They are never afraid of the unknown seas; on the contrary, they have an almost fanatical longing for the legendary lands shrouded in mist.

The mysterious Assya, a name that exists only in ancient sailors' songs and fragmented nautical charts, has lingered in their hearts for many years. It is the ultimate destination of all seafarers' dreams, the touchstone of courage and legend.

Now, this legendary place is no longer out of reach; the opportunity is right before our eyes.

When it was truly placed before them, the long-suppressed desire, like hot oil meeting a flame, instantly ignited the soul of every Ironman Captain.

"Go! We must go!" a voice roared, echoing the sentiments of everyone present. "How many times in a lifetime will we get such an opportunity? If we miss this chance, we might never be able to sail to the edge of the world again in our next life!"

"That's right! Even if I die, I'll die on the way to Assassin!"

"Damn it, it takes three years to travel from Westeros to Assassin and back. How many three-year periods does one have in a lifetime? If we miss this chance, we might not get another one!"

The enthusiasm was boiling.

Everyone knows that life is like a lone boat on the sea, and in this lifetime, it is probably impossible to reach such a distant sea again.

This time, it wasn't for conquest, nor for treasure, but simply to witness that legendary name with my own eyes, so that I could proudly say for the rest of my life that I had been there.

As the harbor's clamor and cheers soared into the sky, Victalion Greyjoy stood alone at the edge of the crowd. The newly appointed governor of Rhae, the groom who had just completed his marriage, stared intently at his brother, his eyes filled with longing for a distant voyage.

Euron's gaze swept over him indifferently, his voice calm yet undeniable: "You cannot go."

Before his brother could argue, Euron continued, "How can someone who has just gotten married abandon his new wife to go on an adventure? Thunder Island needs its governor to stabilize the people, and your wife needs her husband."

Victalion opened his mouth, but ultimately couldn't utter a word. His clenched fists slowly loosened, and he could only watch helplessly as his brother turned and merged into the frenzied crowd about to set sail.

After a month of rest and recuperation on Rai Island, the time for the long voyage finally arrived.

At dawn the next day, a long horn pierced the morning mist.

The port was bustling with activity, and except for Victalion and the crew of his flagship who were forced to stay behind to guard the port, almost all the Ironborn warships set sail again.

The massive fleet, like a migrating pod of whales, slowly sailed away from Lei Yi Port, heading headlong into the unknown sea shrouded in legend and shadow.

Viktorion stood on the now much emptier dock, watching the departing sails, the sea breeze ruffling his dark robes. He was no longer the captain who could do as he pleased, but the one responsible for this land—this realization, along with his dream of expeditions, settled deep within his heart.

fortunately----

Jenna Maxwell held Victalion's hand tightly, her big eyes filled with love.

Victorion reached out and playfully flicked his wife's nose, laughing, "Hmph, let's ignore them. If they won't take us, we'll go ourselves in a while; it's not far anyway!"

"Yes." Jenna Maxwell nodded emphatically.

Asshal, the easternmost border of the known world, the legendary end of the land.

Beyond its towering black walls lies a land shrouded in eternal shadow, a region that even the bravest explorers dare not easily tread, revered by the world as the "Land of Shadows."

In stark contrast to the desolation of the neighboring areas, Assya itself is a bustling and inclusive spectacle.

-

This city opens its doors to everyone, regardless of their purpose.

Here, you can encounter practitioners of all the mystical arts of the known world: male sorcerers clad in robes of stars and moons whisper on street corners; warlocks wielding alchemical vials conduct dangerous experiments in the street; red-robed monks chant exotic prayers in temples; dark sorcerers and necromancers summon beings that should not exist in this world under the moonlight. Moon chanters interpret the stars, cloud mages manipulate air currents, fire sorcerers wield inextinguishable flames in their palms, and blood sorcerers exchange crimson rituals for power—

In Assassinia, there are no taboos, no constraints, and no moral judgments.

Given the necessary strength and the corresponding price, you can perform the most obscene rituals, and even attempt to have intercourse with demons in the abyss.

Everything depends on strength.

There is no king, no governor, and no administrator of any kind here.

Power is the only law and currency here.

Despite this, the port of Assya is busy all year round.

Merchant ships from all over the world flocked to the area, venturing across distant seas not only to trade common gold, gems, and amber, but also for the rare treasures that could only be obtained in Asshal—magical dragon crystals, ancient scrolls containing forbidden knowledge, and mysterious objects that could only be whispered in the black markets of the shadowy lands, never to be spoken of openly.

The Iron Islands fleet, like a pack of black sea monsters, sailed away from the gradually stabilizing Reymar and headed north along the rugged coastline of Reymar.

The massive ship's silhouette swept past the towering cliff fortress of Turani without stopping, heading straight east into the more mysterious sea area, which was only a blurry outline on the nautical chart.

After several days of sailing, a strange archipelago finally revealed its lush yet dangerous form in the morning mist: the Scorpion Islands.

It consists of seven emerald islands, seemingly scattered haphazardly by giants in the eastern part of the Jade Sea, and is the last marked stop on the way to Asshal.

As the fleet approached, a thick, almost tangible dampness mixed with the sweet scent of humus and exotic flowers wafted towards them.

A layer of grayish-green mist perpetually hangs over the island, allowing sunlight to penetrate with difficulty and cast dappled, eerie shadows through the forest. As far as the eye can see, from the coast to the mountain ridges, everything is covered by layers upon layers of wildly growing tropical rainforest, with vines coiling around ancient trees like giant pythons, forming a bottomless green labyrinth.

This seemingly vibrant jungle harbors deadly inhabitants. Almost at the same time the Ironborn dropped anchor, some astute crew members uttered warning whispers—among the dense foliage and in the damp shadows of the rocks, countless scorpion-tailed beasts were watching these uninvited guests with their cold compound eyes.

They dragged their poisonous tails, rustling through the forest; the entire island itself was a living, malevolent, and enormous nest.

The lair of the scorpion-tailed beast!