Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Two more years passed uneventfully on Pike Island. In 275 AC, Euron Greyjoy was 5 years old.

Dawn was shrouded in a salty mist, and the damp sea breeze whipped salt crystals against the rocks. Euron Greyjoy walked barefoot across the slippery rocks, the icy seawater washing over his ankles before receding, leaving behind a layer of fine foam. In the distance, the black silhouette of the "Drinking Ship" loomed in and out of the mist; the longship had a shallow draft, its prow carved with an open dragon's mouth, and six brass-rimmed oars on each side.

This was the third time he had secretly come to see the ship.

Ever since the "Cracked Gauntlet" Dagmore stopped at Pike Isle for supplies last month, Baron Greyjoy's eyes have never left it. Since then, Baron has spent almost every day with Dagmore and his crew, drinking, boasting, and sharpening axes—Baron has been wanting to go out to sea and plunder for a long time, and the "Drinking Spree" has given him the opportunity.

The gentleman does not stand under the wall.

If he could, Euron would much rather stay in the safety of the castle. But three days ago, when he first stepped barefoot into the sea, he heard a sound that made his heart race—

[Ding! Host contact with seawater detected. One Piece System activation rate 1%]

Thank God, I finally have a cheat code!

The tide surged in, washing over his ankles, its coldness carrying a strange intimacy. Euron suddenly "saw" an octopus retreating into a crevice in the rocks, three inches below the surface—not with his eyes, but through the vibrations of the water.

He tentatively ventured into deeper waters, but was pulled back by the guards behind him as soon as the water reached his knees.

[The One Piece System activation rate is 1.01%. The One Piece System will officially unlock when the activation rate reaches 100%!]

A long voyage might just be the key to fully activating the system!

Euron stared at the "Drinker," his fingers unconsciously stirring the seawater. To change one's fate—whether it be his own, his father's, his brother's, his unborn nephews and nieces, or even the entire Iron Islands—one needs power. And the "Drinker" had just given him that opportunity.

"Young Master shouldn't have come to a place like this. When those sailors get drunk, they won't respect you, let alone the young master. They wouldn't even respect the king or the king himself." Old fisherman Wick stood on the shore, blocking Euron's view with his hand, which was missing two fingers. "If your father knew you sneaked onto the ship last night..."

"If you don't tell, and I don't tell, my father will naturally never know." Five-year-old Euron was allowed to move around outside the castle with guards, but only on a small stretch of coastline. Coron trusted the old fisherman Wick's loyalty, bravery, and fighting ability, and temporarily appointed him as Euron's guard.

Suddenly, a sliver of sea fog was blown away by the wind. Euron saw a towering figure standing beside the helm at the stern—Dagmore's jaw was split in two (hence his nickname "The Cleft-Chin"), held together by iron rings, from which dark red wine would leak each time he drank. Legend had it that he had single-handedly killed seven Myr sailors on the Stepstone Islands, and the gold-threaded belt he had stolen was now fastened over his greasy leather armor.

Euron pointed to a long string of things hanging from the mast and asked, "What's that?"

The old fisherman Wick gurgled in his throat: "Ears! Those that haven't dried yet are the ears of the Ries merchants. The 'Drinking Spree' just hijacked a merchant ship a few days ago... Each ear represents a successful plunder." His tone was tinged with envy, as if the instinct for plunder in his blood had been ignited.

Euron pulled a silver deer from his pocket and tossed it to old Wick: "I forgot to congratulate you, your youngest son is three months old now, right? Spend more time with him, he'll grow up quickly and won't be so cute anymore."

The old fisherman caught the silver coin steadily, chuckled, and understood the meaning behind Euron's words—to dissuade him from his idea of ​​plundering at sea. He nodded: "Young master is right. At old age, old Wick is only suited to fishing in Ironman's Bay."

"Is the young prince inspecting his fleet again?"

Dagmore's voice was rougher than the waves, but it carried a tender tone. He crouched by the rocks, the crack in his chin, held in place by an iron ring, still stained with last night's mead. He lifted Euron up like a kitten, his large hand, missing three fingers, surprisingly gentle.

"Your brother's going to do something stupid." Dagmore wiped Euron's wet hands with his leather armor. "But I suspect the little sea monster already found out?"

The damp wooden planks suddenly creaked. Baron emerged from behind the pile of goods; the eighteen-year-old was more robust than most of the soldiers, his leather vest stained with the beer and women's cosmetics left from the previous night's revelry. A newly sharpened axe was tucked into his belt, its blade gleaming bluish-gray in the morning mist.

"Are you spying on me, you little mouse?" Baron grabbed Euron by the collar, his breath, smelling of sea salt, on Euron's face. "Trying to betray your dear brother?"

Euron's feet dangled in the air as he saw the new scar on Balon's neck—a mark inflicted three days earlier by King Coron's whip, when his father roared that the eldest son of Greyjoy shouldn't be acting like an ordinary pirate.

Euron blinked. "The eastern reef will be submerged by the high tide tonight." He pointed to the Drinker. "With the southwest wind, we can sail out of Father's sights before dawn."

Baron's blue eyes narrowed to slits. In the distance, the bugle call for the crew to assemble could be heard, and the Hao Yin was retracting its gangplank.

"Brother," Baron's voice was like a taut sail, "if you tell Father..." His hand rested on the axe handle, but his eyes darted around like a child caught doing something wrong, "a wise man knows how to shut up." He tossed Euron onto the wet sand like a fish, and without turning back, warned as he strode toward the longship, "If Mother asks, say I went to Old Wick Island to duel the Stonetrees."

"Mother won't believe it." Euron stood up, brushed the sand off his bottom, and snorted, "Even a three-year-old knows what you're going to do with Dagmo!"

Baron whirled around, his eyes fierce: "You little bastard, believe me or not, I'll tie you to the rocks and let you experience drowning again!"

Euron grinned: "I might not report you, unless... I get to sail with the 'Grandeur'!"

Old fisherman Wick stared in disbelief: "Out...to sea?"

Baron laughed loudly, "Go out to sea? You think we're going fishing?!"

"They're not fishing, they're plundering merchant ships."

"You're only five years old!"

"Even at five years old, I am an Ironblood, the son of Corren Greyjoy, the young lord of the Iron Islands!"

Baron gritted his teeth in anger: "Swords have no eyes, and blood and flesh fly everywhere. Do you think looting is child's play? The old maester and his pile of moldy sheepskins are waiting for you in the tower."

"Don't you always say that studying is useless, and that true Ironborn should learn to sail longships and wield battleaxes?" Euron looked at him provocatively. "Or do you want your five-year-old brother to charge ahead... or is it that Baron Greyjoy, the self-proclaimed 'First Swordsman of the Iron Islands,' can't even protect his own brother?"

Baron's face flushed red. He grabbed Euron by the collar, his missing front tooth contorting into a sinister grin in the morning light: "Since you're not afraid of death, then I'll show you the true ancient path!"

Old fisherman Wick stood in front of Baron, his large, muscular hand gripping the axe handle, his eyes sharp as he said, "Put the young master down!"

Baron put Euron down, grinned at Wick, and drew his longsword: "Old man, all you care about is the young master. I'm the future King of the Iron Islands, you old codger. What, want to test the sharpness of my sword?!"

"This is my own idea, and it has nothing to do with you!" Euron waved at the old fisherman Wick and laughed loudly, "Wick, go back and tell my father that I will return with a ship full of spoils in half a month to a month!"

Seeing that he couldn't stop him, the old fisherman Wick leaped onto the boat, his face ashen: "I'm your guard! You went out to sea recklessly, how can I face the King? Even if the King doesn't kill me, I have no face to do so!"

The sails of the Drinker rose, the black sails bearing the emblem of House Dagmore—a sea serpent biting its own tail. As the last mooring line was untied, a small flag suddenly flew from the masthead: the golden sea monster of Greyjoy coiled menacingly in the morning light.

Euron's lips curled into a slight smile. System activation level: 1.5%