Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 81 The Support from King's Landing

On the back side of Qingting Island, far from the hustle and bustle of the main port, in the town of Haixing, the air is perpetually filled with the smells of fish, cheap alcohol, and cheap perfume.

Deep within the intricate alleyways of this small town, a lavishly decorated and bustling brothel—"Lady's Nest"—became the absolute core of Euron Greyjoy's operation.

This place is a melting pot of all sorts of people, a gathering place for sailors, smugglers, and those seeking cheap comfort.

Old Tung, the woman from the brothel, was "rescued" from the slave market in Ries by Euron during Euron's three-year travels across the Narrow Sea. She was also a key figure Euron had planted on Green Pavilion Island.

She wasn't a native of Greenwood; her blood flowed with a more distant, Lysian charm. Her pale purple hair, like an exotic mist tinged with the glow of sunset, wasn't a common hair color in Westeros, adding to her mystery and allure. Her face was a classic oval, with soft, delicate lines, and her well-maintained skin appeared smooth and delicate in the dim light.

What's most captivating are her eyes—large and hazy, always shrouded in a layer of watery light, looking at people with a natural, languid yet focused affection, as if you were her only world at that moment, easily drawing you in, incredibly alluring.

Her makeup is usually not heavy, but rather focuses on highlighting her naturally beautiful features. Perhaps it's just a perfectly chosen lip color or a very thin eyeliner, used to emphasize her expressive eyes. She is indeed beautiful, with a mature beauty that knows how to showcase her strengths. She is not a naive girl, but a woman who understands her own charm and knows how to use it wisely.

But Pamela Fisher's most powerful weapon wasn't her looks, but her shrewdness and social skills. She was the true "uncrowned queen" of Starfish Town, able to navigate effortlessly among rough sailors, cunning tax collectors, curious patrolmen, and all sorts of shady characters. Her greatest abilities were her silver tongue, her ability to speak to anyone in their own language, and her sharp eye to see through a man's desires, vanity, and vulnerability at a glance.

She could chat with a sailor who longed for his hometown about his mother's stew, and she could also discuss poetry and dreams with a disillusioned nobleman;

She could soothe the drunkard's violence and pry open the secrets of those who kept their mouths shut. In her "Lady's Nest," men not only sought physical comfort, but also often inadvertently poured out their unspeakable secrets, gossips they had heard, and even some seemingly insignificant confidential information to her seemingly understanding and tolerant "Eternal Eyes."

It was this ability to understand people's hearts and manipulate emotions, coupled with her complex and unspoken gratitude towards Euron (a mixture of fear, gratitude, and perhaps a twisted loyalty), that made her the most perfect and crucial executor of this "Infernal Affairs" plan. She played her role perfectly, using laughter and the scent of perfume to mask the cold killing intent brought by the more than one hundred Iron Clan warriors deep underground.

The "mercy" shown then and the subsequent financial support have yielded returns far exceeding expectations. This brothel, along with its underground vault, has long been a hidden thorn in the side of the Iron Islands, embedded in Greenwood Island. Currently, more than a dozen Ironborn are active on Greenwood Island under Pamela Fisher's arrangement, gathering intelligence and information for Euron.

After Youlun led twenty elite men to successfully infiltrate Qingting Island, the brothel began operating at high speed and in secrecy. Thanks to Lao Wu's inside help and his familiarity with the local underworld, more than one hundred of the most loyal and skilled Iron Citizen warriors were dispersed and transported in silently through various covert channels over four consecutive nights, like trickles of water flowing into a deep pool.

Each transfer took place in the dead of night. There were no torches, only the most discreet coded signals. Each time, twenty or thirty people, disguised as workers transporting wine barrels or drunken sailors, were quickly led into the depths of the brothel, disappearing through a hidden trapdoor into the unimaginably spacious basement on the second basement level, originally used to store wine barrels and miscellaneous items.

The air here is polluted, but absolutely safe, enough to accommodate this quietly assembled army.

Over four days, a total of 112 elite Iron Clan soldiers, like ghosts, infiltrated the heart of Qingting Island. They huddled in dark cellars, sharpening their axes, cleaning their bows and crossbows, silently chewing on dried meat, awaiting the command.

The sounds of singing, dancing, and revelry from the upper floors of the brothel provided them with the best cover.

Intelligence about this crucial secret passage and rendezvous point was also transmitted via carrier pigeon or through a trusted one-way contact to the ever-growing Iron Fleet outside Whispering Bay.

Just as the deadline was approaching and the storm was about to break, another piece of intelligence from the outside, like a stone thrown into an undercurrent, stirred up subtle but crucial ripples and was quickly reported to Euron in the cellar.

In the secret space on the second basement floor of the "Beauty's Nest" brothel, the air was thick and heavy, filled with the sweat of over a hundred Iron Man soldiers.

The air was cold and heavy with the scent of leather and steel. The only light source was a few flickering oil lamps, casting distorted shadows onto the rough stone walls.

Pamela Fisher descended silently through the trapdoor, her exquisite silk dress, so out of place in the cellar, seemingly imbued with the scent of perfume from upstairs, and her pale purple hair gleaming faintly in the dim light. She went straight to Euron, who was leaning against a wine barrel.

Greyjoy's large, watery eyes now gleamed with a sharp light, unlike when she was trying to seduce someone.

"My lord," her voice was low but clear enough for the surrounding leaders to hear, carrying the calmness of someone reporting important matters, "this is fresh news, still very hot to handle."

The faint sounds of sharpening knives and whispers that had been lingering in the cellar vanished instantly, and all eyes were now fixed on her.

"There's a group coming from King's Landing today. They're not moving fast, and they're heading towards Green Pavilion Island." She spoke calmly, but the details were clear. "They don't look like many people, maybe only a few dozen guards. But the leader—he's someone important."

She paused, making sure to draw everyone's attention, especially Euron's gaze.

"The one leading the way is a white-robed knight," she uttered softly, as if the words weighed a ton, "Sir Harlan Grandson of the Kingsguard."

A very faint, sharp gasp echoed from the cellar. The Kingsguard personally escorting them? This in itself meant that the Iron Throne's gaze was fixed on this place; this was no ordinary matter.

“What’s even more striking is what’s following behind them,” Pamela continued, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “More than a dozen carriages, covered tightly with thick tarpaulins. The wheel tracks in the mud were very shallow, so you could tell the contents weren’t heavy. But the horses were moving very slowly, and the escorts were extremely careful, as if they were afraid the contents would break. I have a feeling that what they’re escorting is definitely unusual.”

Her words paint a picture full of mystery: the royal family's high level of attention, and some kind of heavy secret being carefully transported.

"The source of the information?" Euron's voice rang out in a low tone, like an echo from a cellar.

Pamela's red lips curved into a subtle, slightly smug smile, but it was quickly replaced by a serious expression: "The two guards upstairs, who had a few too many drinks, came with the convoy. When he was bragging, his tongue practically slurred, saying something like—'With the treasure in the carriage, the Redwin family is guaranteed to win the naval battle!'"—After saying this, he seemed to suddenly snap out of his reverie, his face turning deathly pale. No matter how much the girls tried to coax or coax him, he clenched his teeth tightly, refusing to utter another word. His expression—was incredibly tense.

She looked at Euron, her eyes, usually so alluring to men, now filled with cautious worry: "My lord, I feel—what's in that carriage is probably more than just 'important,' it could very well be something extremely dangerous. I'd like to spend some more time investigating through other channels, but—"

Her tone carried a hint of helpless urgency: "But it's too late. Just before I arrived, it was confirmed that the group from King's Landing had already entered Starfish Harbor and been directly received by the Redwyn family. Our people can't get any closer."

A deeper silence fell over the cellar.

The Kingsguard's escort of what they considered a "dangerous item" that would guarantee Redwynn's naval victory was a crucial moment. At this critical juncture, with the Iron Fleet at the gates, every piece of information felt like a heavy stone thrown into a deep pool, the ripples causing tension to run high among all the Ironborn warriors. Their original plan was a surprise internal attack, but now, their adversaries also seemed to have acquired some unknown, deadly bargaining chip from King's Landing.

All eyes turned once more to Euron Greyjoy, awaiting his decision. What kind of "key to victory" was carried in that unknown carriage? And what variables would it bring to this impending bloody battle?

"Ha," Euron let out a very soft, almost inaudible chuckle, "It seems our mad king not only orders the looting of grain, but also has his eye on something else—or perhaps he's here to deliver something to his 'loyal subject,' Redwin?"

The original plan targeting Qingting Island seems to have encountered an unexpected variable that may bring even greater gains. Euron felt a little uneasy about the statement, "With the treasure in the car, House Redwin is guaranteed to win the naval battle."

Euron paused, his eyes sharpening with caution, and slowly said, "Whatever's in that car, since it's been delivered right to our doorstep, why not take a bite?" The air in the cellar instantly grew even hotter, filled with a bloodthirsty anticipation. "Pamela, you did a great job!"