Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Faced with the intense, challenging gazes of Robert, Brandon, and others, Euron Greyjoy simply gave an elegant bow, a hint of fatigue showing on his face.

"Lord Baratheon, Lord Stark," Euron's voice carried just the right amount of regret, "to contend with such a formidable opponent as Ser Jaime has exhausted my meager strength honed on this remote island. Please allow me to preserve some dignity, lest I embarrass myself before you true masters of swordsmanship." He skillfully positioned himself in a humble manner, politely declining further duels with modesty and a slightly pale (feigned) face, thus saving face for his opponent while avoiding revealing his own trump cards or truly exhausting himself.

Although everyone felt it was a pity, they saw that his fierce battle with James was indeed thrilling, so they did not insist.

The following day, the sky over Lannister Harbor was a clear, deep blue, and the sunlight illuminated the Red Rock Castle with unparalleled brilliance.

The church was solemn and dignified, with the cold, colorful marble floor reflecting the sacred light cast from the dome.

The sunlight filtered through the high windows was tinged with seven colors, like the merciful gaze of the gods, falling silently. A faint fragrance filled the air, suppressing all whispers, leaving only the crackling sound of the flame flickering gently on the candlestick.

Jaime Lannister knelt on one knee, his gleaming armor shimmering with a platinum sheen in the light, mirroring the brilliance of his blond hair. His head was slightly bowed, the usual arrogance and untamed spirit of his handsome face now completely vanished, replaced by an almost devout focus. His young back was ramrod straight, as straight as the longsword he was about to wield.

Ser Arthur Dayne, "Sword of the Dawn," stood before him. His pure white knightly attire was more sacred and inviolable than Jaime's armor. In his hand lay not a training blunt sword, but the Dayne family's heirloom—the legendary greatsword "Dawn." Its broad blade gleamed with a chilling light, seemingly imbued with the light of the stars and the weight of all chivalry.

Arthur Dane's deep, clear voice echoed through the silent sanctuary, each word striking a chord in people's hearts:

"Jaime Lannister!"

James raised his head, his azure eyes burning with a fierce flame, and responded with unwavering resolve and no hesitation:

"I am!"

With a solemn expression, Arthur Dayne gently placed the sword, imbued with unparalleled glory, flat on James's right shoulder. The cold metal touching the skin of his neck sent a shiver of awe through him.

"In the name of the warrior," Arthur's voice boomed, brimming with power, "I demand courage from you."

"I do!" James's answer was swift and passionate, as if those three words were already etched into his soul.

The gleaming sword traced a precise arc and moved to the left shoulder.

"In the name of the Father," Arthur continued, his voice imbued with a judgmental authority, "I demand justice from you."

"I do!" The vow resounded powerfully, echoing softly beneath the dome.

The longsword returned to his right shoulder with a fluid and divine movement.

"In the name of the Virgin Mary," Arthur's tone softened but remained firm, "I ask you to protect the weak and the innocent."

"I do!" James's eyes deepened, as if he had already shouldered this heavy responsibility.

The sword tip moved one last time and landed steadily on the left shoulder.

"In the name of the maiden," Arthur's voice carried a pure expectation, "I ask you to protect all women and children."

"I do!" James' final answer, filled with all his passion and youthful ideals, fulfilled this sacred vow.

Ser Arthur Dayne held the sword with both hands, gently touching the blade to James's shoulder, pausing briefly to allow the power of all the oaths to settle there. Then, he calmly sheathed the sword, its tip pointing diagonally towards the sky.

"Rise, Ser Jaime Lannister. Welcome to the ranks of knights."

The resounding words of investiture seemed to still vibrate in the air, mingling with the candlelight and the rainbow of sunlight, forever etching this moment into the hearts of all witnesses. Jaime slowly rose, his armor making a soft clinking sound, his face radiant with unparalleled brilliance. A young knight, bestowed with the highest honor and dreams, was born.

At that moment, Jaime Lannister's golden hair and gleaming armor seemed to absorb all the light, making him the absolute focus.

After the ceremony, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind an atmosphere of holiness and solemnity. Only Jaime Lannister remained, where he would keep watch in the sanctuary and be anointed with the seven holy oils by the monks.

Euron looked at the newly recruited knight bathed in holy light and sighed inwardly: Will the future Jaime Lannister feel ashamed when he looks back on this day...?

Corren Greyjoy strolled over to his son, who was intently watching Jaime Lannister, and his gaze swept over Arianne Martell, the Dornish princess, who was chatting and laughing with her companion a short distance away. She was indeed dazzling, with smooth skin, a curvaceous figure, and a bold, infectious smile, like a fiery gem born from the Dornish desert.

"That Martell," Corren said in a low, deliberate voice, "the heir to Dorne. His status is high enough, and his looks are impeccable. What do you think?" His meaning was clear: marriage was the most direct way to consolidate power, and the identity of the heir to Dorne was undeniably tempting.

Euron's eyes swept over Ariane indifferently, as if assessing a commodity, without a ripple of emotion. "She's a thorny rose of the sand, Father. Beautiful, passionate, but dangerous." His voice was steady and calm. "She knows what she wants and will stop at nothing to get it, believing it's all her due. This kind of woman is a wildfire, capable of burning her enemies, but also capable of destroying her own home."

Corren frowned slightly, seemingly finding his son too picky.

Euron said calmly, "It's not that I'm picky, but I'm self-aware. Prince Dorne-Doran would never marry his heir to me, and as for Arianne Martell, I only danced with her once, and there were more than ten people dancing with her that night. In the end, given her personality, if she had taken a liking to me, she would have told me directly, but she didn't, so she didn't take a liking to me."

After a moment's thought, Corren nodded and agreed with his son's opinion.

Euron's gaze, however, bypassed the clamor and landed on Ashara Dayne, who stood quietly a short distance away. She was looking at her brother Arthur, a gentle and serene smile on her lips, her purple eyes like the twilight of a fallen city, carrying a hint of melancholy and an indescribable nobility.

"In comparison," Euron's voice held a barely perceptible, genuine warmth, "I prefer the lady from Starfall City."