Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Deep within the towering rocky fortress of Pike Island, a stone chamber was barely kept warm by the flickering flames in the fireplace, dispelling the damp chill characteristic of the Iron Islands. The air was thick with the musty smell of parchment, the slight astringency of ink, and the faint salty tang that the sea breeze could never completely wash away.

This is the residence and small library of the scholars of Pike Island.

Three-year-old Euron Greyjoy sat on an oak chair that was too big for him, his feet dangling in the air. He was wrapped in a thick wool sweater, which made his chubby little face appear even whiter. Most striking were his eyes: his left eye was like a bottomless well, absorbing the light in the room and appearing almost pure black; his right eye was a cold, clear blue, like the sea before a storm.

"The Iron Islands have always been the poorest of the Seven Kingdoms." Clegane, the old maester of Pyke, a white-bearded, slightly hunched old man with still sharp eyes, stood beside him, his cloudy gaze filled with astonishment and a hint of unspoken awe. "But our ancestors measured a vast territory far beyond Westeros with longships."

"Come, let's learn about the great Greyjoy family crest today, shall we?"

Maester Clygon carefully unfurled a thick, dark parchment with worn edges. The image on it exuded a menacing, savage aura: a ferocious sea monster, its thick, coiled tentacles covered in suckers, seemed poised to burst forth from the paper at any moment, dragging everything into the abyss. Heavy scales covered its body, and two eyes on its head—one as deep as a starless night, the other as cold as the fiercest sea before a storm—stared intently at the viewer. Against the pure black background, only the sea monster was meticulously depicted with shimmering gold lines, radiating an unsettling majesty even in the dim light.

"Look, this is the 'Golden Sea Monster'," Maester Clygon's withered fingers gently stroked the parchment with a deliberate reverence. "It is a symbol of power! Proof that we Ironborn can breathe, fight, and rule beneath the waves! The sea is our hunting ground, and the sea monster is ourselves!" He tried to make his voice full of passion that a child could understand.

"We, House Greyjoy," Clygon's voice continued, trying to pull his young master back to reality, "are descendants of the Grey King! The Grey King, do you know him? He is a great being older than the Children of the Forest on the continent of Westeros! Legend has it that he married a mermaid and ruled over all the kingdoms beneath the waves! His blood flows in our veins!" The maester's tone was resolute.

Unaware of the turmoil in his young master's heart, Maester Clygon slowly unfurled a yellowed map—a map of the Iron Islands—and, referring to the map, began to explain the long history of the Iron Islands to Euron.

The Iron Islands are located in Ironborn Bay, in the Sunset Sea in the western border of Westeros, extending eastward to the Trident River and the Neck. Scattered like torn chains across the Sunset Sea, the Iron Islands consist primarily of thirty-one islands, with seven main islands surrounding twenty-one smaller islands. The seven main islands are Pyke, Great Wick, Old Wick, Harlow, Salt Cliff, Blacktide, and Oak. Some of the twenty-one smaller islands are used for sheep herding, while others are uninhabited.

Pike Isle resembles a broken spear pointing towards the mainland, with the city of Pike perched atop a precipice supported by three sea stacks; the crater of Great Wake Isle still smokes, and the ruins of the Grey Sea King's Hall on Old Wake Isle are older than Valyria; Harlow Isle resembles a stranded whale, Salt Cliff Isle is riddled with honeycomb-like caves, and Black Tide Isle is the territory of House Blackteth; Oak Isle, formerly known as Oakmont Isle, brought unimaginable wealth to the Iron Islands during the reign of House Hall, the Iron Kings, when merchants and trading fleets traveled between Oak Isle and Lannister Harbor, Oldtown, and even the Free Trade City-states.

He picked up a charcoal pencil and began sketching on another rough parchment. "Look, young Master Euron, this is our Iron Islands." He drew several crooked circles, like a string of scattered pebbles. "The largest one is our home, Pike Isle. The others are Big Wick, Old Wick, Harlow..." He emphasized the circle representing Harlow Isle with his finger. "The mighty Harlow family. They have the best shipyards, capable of building 'longships' that can cleave through storms!" His tone was deliberately emphatic.

“And here, Great Wake Island,” Clygon’s charcoal pencil pointed to another slightly larger circle, his tone becoming more cautious, “is inhabited by the Gubler family. They are descendants of the ‘Blackblood’ Gublers, ancient, very… proud. They value tradition.” He avoided the specific meaning of “tradition,” only drawing a simple anchor next to it.

“Here, Old Wake Island,” the charcoal pencil moved, “is the territory of the Drum Family. The Election of Kings! You know, long, long ago, the kings of the Iron Islands weren’t born, but elected by all the captains at the Election of Kings! The Drum Family presided over this ancient ceremony.” The maester’s tone carried a nostalgic air of glory. “And here, Blacktide Island, the Blacktes Family,” he drew a wave at that spot, “they are the most faithful servants of the Drowned God, the most fearless warriors of the waves!”

Finally, the charcoal pencil landed on a solitary little dot, at the tip of the western side of Great Wick Island. "Lone Lamp Keep, House Fawin. They..." The maester paused, as if choked by an invisible sea fog, "very special, rarely leaving the castle, as mysterious as the sea fog." He drew a small lighthouse symbol.

This "map," composed of rough lines and symbolic symbols, was Euron's prototype of the world. Pyke Island was the core, with the other islands surrounding it like reefs and rocks. Those names—Guberle, Drummer, Blacktes, Fawin—were like treacherous shoals marked on a nautical chart, carrying the ineffable weight of Maester Clegane's words, pressing heavily into his nascent understanding. They were inextricably linked to weighty words like "power," "pride," "ancient rituals," "devout believers," and "mystery."

"Lords," Maester Clygon concluded, trying to force a benevolent smile, "like the tentacles of a sea monster reaching out in all directions, the great ship of the Iron Islands must hold fast to the reefs belonging to Greyjoy so that it can sail steadily through the storm."

"Lord Coron had another argument with the captains this morning," Maester Clegane sighed, tapping his knuckles on the spot where Lannisport was located. "The third time he's proposed forming a merchant fleet, and the third time it's been opposed."

Euron's fingertips traced the sea between the Iron Islands and the mainland on the map. He remembered his father Corren Greyjoy's reform plans: replacing plunder with iron ore trade, replacing "paying iron money" with dock taxes, and even proposing to build a statue of the Seven in Pyke to improve relations with the mainland. These ideas were more terrifying to the Ironborn than the White Walkers.

"The Zhuogu family says this is blasphemy against the god of drowning," the maester whispered. "Yesterday, a fisherman carved 'Strength is better than hard work' on the Pike Town docks."

Euron nodded and said calmly, "This is the motto of our Greyjoy family..." The sound of the waves outside the window suddenly became deafening. Euron knew this motto engraved in the soul of the Greyjoy family—they believed that the Drowned God created the Ironborn to seize the wealth of the weak.

But at this time, when his father, Corren Greyjoy, was proposing reforms—replacing plunder with trade—carving the Greyjoy family motto on the docks was no flattery, but rather an iron spear pointing at the Greyjoy family, mocking and accusing Corren Greyjoy of betraying the family oath, betraying the traditions of the Iron Islands, and betraying the Ironborn. It was said that the writing was done by fishermen, but on the Iron Islands, fishermen who could write were rarer than three-legged fish. Euron understood this but didn't say it aloud. As the second son of Chief Greyjoy, he had been the center of attention since birth—the walking embodiment of the Drowned God, proof that the dead never die and will rise again, the "hope for the future of the Iron Islands" in the old priest's words, and possessing unique heterochromatic eyes, one black and one blue… Almost every Ironborn on the Iron Islands knew Euron's title of "Son of the Drowned God," but at the age of three, he was not yet capable of bearing such titles.

A tree that stands out in the forest will be felled by the wind; a mound that rises above the bank will be eroded by the current; a person who excels above others will be criticized by the masses. Euron understood this principle, so he knew he had to learn to hide his abilities before he had enough strength. Less attention meant more chances of survival; Euron would remind himself of this before every word and action.

The previous discussion had strayed from the theme of enlightenment, so Maester Clegane shook his head and continued the lesson, his quill sketching key moments in the Iron Islands' history on parchment: "Three hundred years ago, when King Harren the Black built Harrenhal in the Riverlands, we ruled the west coast from Bear Isle to Greenbridge. Until the War of Conquest… Aegon's dragonfire destroyed the Iron Fleet, and the image of Toren Greyjoy, the Subjugated King, kneeling to offer his crown still stings the pride of the Ironborn. Today, the Iron Islands are nominally subservient to the Iron Throne, but the spirit of Corey the Raider dwells in the heart of every captain."

Euron saw the old maester's hand tremble on the Targaryen sigil. Maester Clegane was born and raised in the Iron Islands, and even after more than a decade of maester life in the Citadel, the story of the Iron Islands had always flowed in his blood and he had never forgotten it.

Maester Clygon displayed the map before Euron and asked, "Euron, do you know where you are?"

"This is Pike Place, the home of House Greyjoy." Euron's voice was clear, yet carried a strange certainty.

Clygon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Very accurate, sir. Your father will be proud of you."

Euron didn't respond. His gaze swept over the other islands—Great Wake Island, Old Wake Island, Harlow Island… Each name evoked memories of the original story in his mind. He knew which families were based on these islands, and he knew how they would choose their sides in the future.

"Sir," Euron suddenly asked, "why do the Ironborn call themselves 'Ironse'?"

Clygon stroked his beard, a habit he had when deep in thought. "It's an ancient tradition, sir. Our ancestors believed that the Drowned God forged the Ironborn from iron, the Andals from soft gold, and the other races from mud."

Euron nodded, but in his mind, he recalled his knowledge of modern metallurgy. Iron was indeed harder than bronze, but it rusted easily. The analogy was surprisingly accurate.

"The Ironborn live differently from other kingdoms," Clygon continued. "We pay with iron coins, not gold or silver."

"Iron coins?"

"Pay with swords and axes, sir. We take what we want." Clygon's voice carried pride. "That's the old way."

The Ancient Road is simply another way of saying plunder and looting. In the culture of the Ironborn, warriors plunder spoils from defeated enemies, paying with "iron coins," rather than using currency, "money," to buy goods. The Ironborn's slave laborers and salt merchants also obtain their wealth through plunder, never through buying and selling. Using money to buy goods is considered shameful by the Ironborn. Nothing is more desirable than what is stolen and free… Euron's lips curled slightly upward. He remembered the disaster caused by King Balon's attempt to revive the Ancient Road in the original story, and he also remembered Euron's even more extreme actions in the original work.

"Father wants to change these things," Euron suddenly said.

Clygon's expression visibly stiffened: "Lord Coron does indeed have some... innovative ideas."

Euron knows his father, Corren Greyjoy, is trying to integrate the Iron Islands into the mainstream culture of the Seven Kingdoms. In the original story, this attempt failed, leading to a temporary decline in the Greyjoy family's power. But now, with his intervention, history might take a different turn. Three years passed, filled with confusion and bewilderment, but ultimately Huang Zhengdao chose to accept his current identity and the reality of having transmigrated to the world of A Song of Ice and Fire.

"Tell me about the sigil and motto of the other families, Maester Clegane," Euron changed the subject.

Clygon breathed a sigh of relief and began pointing to the map, explaining, "Besides our Greyjoy family ruling Pike Isle, Great Wick Isle is controlled by the Drow Drum family, whose sigil is a bone and a chain..."

Euron listened intently, comparing every detail with the information in his memory. The Drum family would support Baron in the future; the Stonetree family's sigil was a rock in the tentacle of a sea monster; the Merlin family's motto was "Though dead, one lives"... Some of these families would be loyal to Greyjoy, while others would betray him at crucial moments.