Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 157 Imperial Council

Inside the throne room of the Red Keep, the air was so heavy it was almost suffocating, as a royal council concerning the future of the kingdom was being held.

Surrounding the long table were the core of the kingdom's power: Chancellor of the Exchequer Colton Chester, Minister of Justice Cymon Staunton, Chief of Staff "The Spider" Varys, Hand of the King Lord Mariewes, Grand Maester Paisell, and King Aerys Targaryen II, who sat in the shadow of the terrifying Iron Throne, his expression unpredictable.

Their discussion focused on the hot topic currently sweeping across the seven nations—the Tournament of Champions in Harrenhal.

Chancellor of the Exchequer Colton Chester spoke first, his voice carrying its usual obsequiousness, yet intent on stirring up the most sensitive old grievances: "Your Majesty, please recall the chaos in Duskwood, when that traitor Dennis Darklin dared to kidnap you and threaten the then Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, saying that if he dared to make any rash moves, he would murder Your Majesty."

Chancellor of the Exchequer Colton paused deliberately, allowing the terrifying memories to linger. "Dennis may or may not make a move. But according to reliable sources, Lord Tywin Lannister pointed at Prince Rhaegar and said: 'If he makes a move, we will have a better king.'" He looked meaningfully at the King. "Given such a dangerous precedent, I strongly recommend that Your Majesty prohibit the Earl of Rivershire from holding this tournament."

Lord Attorney Simon Staunton followed, his tone even more stern and direct: "Your Majesty, this is no mere speculation. There is reason to believe that His Highness and Tywin Lannister may have been in cahoots. Their attack on Duskwood was likely intended to force Lord Darklin to assassinate you. This would allow Prince Rhaegar to ascend the Iron Throne, and Lord Tywin to marry his daughter Cersei to the new king." He concluded, "To eliminate any potential threats, I request Your Majesty to ban all tournaments!"

At that moment, Varys's voice, soft as a feather, drifted over, yet sharp as a dagger: "Oh, my lords, all your clamor may not have touched upon the true core of the matter."

Varys turned to King Aerys, a mask of worry on his face. "According to my little birds, Prince Rhaegar has little interest in the game of horseback riding and bayonet fighting itself. His true intention, I suspect, is to use this gathering of nobles from across the land as an opportunity to convene an informal grand council." He paused, letting the most terrifying speculation fester in the air. "The topic of the meeting will be how to deal with—forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty—"

How to deal with your increasingly distinctive style of rule? The conclusion could very well lead to a forced regency, or even dethronement! He added, seemingly casually, "Moreover, the Prince's close relationship with Sir Oswell Hoyne of the Kingsguard (the Earl of Hoyne's brother) is something to ponder."

Amidst the clamor for prohibition, Lord Marie Weiss, Hand of the King, offered a more pragmatic perspective: "Your Majesty, such a grand gathering is a rare occasion for the people to celebrate and find solace. Unjustifiably prohibiting it will only alienate you from your already fragile popular support. The River Anne family's intention in holding the tournament is simply to display their wealth and glory, to take this opportunity to flaunt their magnificent castles and outstanding offspring to all of Westeros." He sighed, "Are we perhaps overthinking things?"

Varys echoed softly, his words like a sweet poison: "Lord Mariewes is right. Perhaps His Majesty's presence at the grand gathering, displaying your majesty before the people, would be the perfect opportunity to win back their favor."

Opinions from all sides clashed fiercely.

In the end, amidst suspicion and scheming, Aerys II made a decision that shocked everyone: he would personally go to Harrenhal to let everyone know who the King of the Seven Kingdoms was! There he would regain the people's love and the awe and respect of all the nobles!

King Iris II was very confident about the final outcome of this trip!

Above the vast camp outside Harrenhal, thousands of flags fluttered in the wind, resembling a surging, colorful ocean.

Beneath this rare spectacle, Euron Greyjoy, Ashara Dayne, and Tyrion Lannister agreed to stroll leisurely through the bustling and vibrant landscape.

"Look! This is practically a living fossil jungle of the Seven Kingdoms' heraldry!" Tyrion Lannister exclaimed excitedly, his eyes gleaming with a thirst for knowledge, like the most enthusiastic tour guide. "You couldn't possibly recognize all these families in one place under normal circumstances. Just being able to name all these families and their stories is enough to earn you a maester title in the Citadel!"

Euron smiled and said, "Then I assume you know everything?"

"Of course!"

Tyrion began pointing as if reciting a familiar story: "See that over there? A torn, bloody boar's head on a black background—the Vagahar family. Legend has it that their ancestor single-handedly killed a raging giant boar in the forest, but lost half his face in the process. So their motto is 'A tooth for a tooth,' pretty crude, isn't it?"

"And over there, a bunch of crooked white pebbles on yellow and green stripes—the Smallwood family. They claim their ancestors were foremen who moved stones for the city builders," Brandon, so their motto is, "Small but essential." But I think their greatest contribution now is producing terribly sour wine."

Asara chuckled at his description. Euron then pointed to a blue and white flag with a giant lobster on it and asked, "Test your knowledge, what's the story behind this?"

"That's no problem for me! House Krafton!" Tyrion slapped his thigh and laughed heartily. "A small fry on Crabclaw Peninsula, making a living by catching lobsters and occasionally doing some piracy. Their motto is 'Under a hard shell,' meaning they may have a small territory, but they're not to be trifled with. I guess it's because they eat lobster every day, so they're quite resentful."

Ashara laughed and asked, "What about the one with the Three Squirrels?"

Tyrion patted his chest proudly: "The white flag only has three dead squirrels painted on it—that's a small branch of the Paiber family, the Paiber of Squirrel Hollow. They say their ancestors were granted land because they were particularly good at catching squirrels and saved their starving lord; their motto is 'Abundant Stock.' Truly—ambitious!"

"And then there's that skinny dog ​​gnawing on a bone on a gray background—the Arryn family of One Bone Bridge (not the main branch of the Valley), dirt poor, their motto is 'loyal to the bone,' meaning they'll follow you for a bone. I heard last time they rented out half of their family burial plots to save money."

Tyrion's commentary is both humorous and sharp, filled with all sorts of little-known gossip and satire. He not only points out the major families such as the Lannisters' Golden Lion, the Starks' Direwolves, the Tully's Fish, the Tyrell's Golden Rose, and Martell's Sun-piercing Spear, but also exposes the banners and backstories of countless minor families, whether glorious or laughable.

Euron listened, occasionally commenting, "It's useful to remember these families; at least you'll know which ones you can mess with and which ones aren't even worth messing with." Ashara, on the other hand, focused more on the beauty and symbolism of the patterns themselves.

Euron narrowed his hawk-like eyes and pointed into the distance.

As the sun set, at the edge of a golden field, three menacing black dogs howled in the wind. "Three black dogs on the yellow earth," he said, a playful smile playing on his lips, "that's the coat of arms of House Clegane, isn't it? I remember they were vassals of your Lannister family."

Tyrion's brow furrowed as he followed the banner fluttering in the wind. "The rise of House Clegane is hardly a glorious one."

Tyrion's voice was deep. "Old Clegane was originally just our Master of the Beasts in Casterly Rock. One autumn, when Lord Tytos was being chased by a lioness while hunting, it was Old Clegane who released all his hounds and gave the lives of his three most loyal hounds, as well as one of his own legs, to save the Lord's life."

He paused, took a sip of wine, as if needing the alcohol to dilute the bitterness of the memory. "As a reward, the Duke of Tyrone granted him a land, a castle, and took his son as his squire. Those three dogs were thus forever embroidered on the family banner." Tyrion turned, looking solemnly at Euron. "But you must know, Gregor Clegane—the one people call 'The Mountain'—is no ordinary dog. If you encounter him in the arena, be extremely careful." The dwarf's voice grew even lower. "He is no ordinary opponent. He is like a moving mountain of steel, leaving nothing but desolation in his wake."

Euron nodded, a strange light flashing in his eyes, like a shark that had smelled blood.

I really want to meet him! The Mountain!

The three felt as if they were strolling through a living, breathing masterpiece of heraldry, narrated live by Tyrion, enjoying a unique visual feast of knowledge and fun that this grand event offered.