Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 419 Let? — That's strength!

Euron had already seen the deep purple robes and the Qarthian man's feigned composure, but Euron was not going to tolerate his arrogant and pretentious behavior.

Euron didn't immediately lash out. Instead, he turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the group of fierce island lords beside him. He feigned ignorance, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet loud enough for everyone around to hear clearly: "Oh? Look, everyone in this city knows the rules, knows how to submit." He pointed to the still-standing figure, his tone suddenly turning cold, "Only that one standing seems determined not to submit."

Euron paused slightly before casually posing the question: "What do you think should be done about this—?"

""

The island lords surrounding him were all ruthless characters who had followed him for a long time. They immediately understood his intention and, almost without hesitation, several rough roars rang out simultaneously: "Chop them down!"

"Hang his head on the mast!"

As soon as the order was given, several ferocious Ironborn men grinned maliciously, drew their swords and axes from their waists, and strode through the kneeling crowd, charging directly at the Qarthian man. The gleaming axe blades whistled through the air, ready to mercilessly chop down on his still-erect neck, leaving no room for questioning or warning.

The well-dressed Qarthian man, just moments before the gleaming blade and axe were aimed at him, shattered all pretense of composure and dignity. Overwhelmed by terror, his legs went weak, and with a thud, he collapsed to his knees as if his bones had been removed, his posture even more pathetic than the surrounding commoners.

"No, I am not—ah, I surrender! I am willing—" he screamed, trying to grasp at the last glimmer of hope.

The Iron Citizens who stepped forward ignored his cries of agony, grinning maliciously. They roughly grabbed him by the collar of his magnificent robe as if he were a chicken, and effortlessly dragged him out of the kneeling crowd, throwing him onto the open ground to await the leader's final judgment.

Euron didn't immediately pay attention to the Qarthian man slumped on the ground, as if this interlude was nothing more than a trivial breeze across the sea. His gaze drifted away, past the richly dressed figure, and landed on the dark mass of kneeling commoners.

Euron took two steps forward, his voice carrying clearly across the silent dock, proclaiming with a benevolent majesty: "The Iron Islands accept your submission." He gently raised his hand and smiled, "Rise, all of you. You have made a wise choice, and you will never regret it today. We, the Iron Islands, have always been tolerant and benevolent towards our subjects."

Euron paused briefly, allowing the promise to resonate among the crowd, watching them rise one by one, filled with astonishment and uncertainty. Then, he abruptly changed the subject, appointing the administrator of the area: "From this day forward, Falco Blacktes will serve as the governor of Faros!"

Falco Blacktes, whose name was called, stepped forward with steady and powerful strides.

As the second son of Beller Blacktes, lord of Kuroshio Island, he inherited the family's signature thick black hair and piercing, hawk-like eyes. Though young, his face still bore the marks of age, but his brow already held the fortitude of someone who had weathered many storms. He was already a valiant warrior who had proven himself in numerous boarding actions and coastal assaults, and an excellent captain who skillfully navigated the waves and earned the deep trust of his crew through his accurate judgment.

Falco Blacktes' face bore the solemnity of someone entrusted with a great responsibility, a barely suppressed excitement flickering deep within his eyes. He took a deep breath, turned to face the crowd who had just risen, still filled with fear and anticipation, and declared in a loud voice, with the resounding power unique to warriors: "Listen carefully! I, Falco Blacktes, am from this day forward the Governor of Faros. The golden krait flag of the Iron Islands and the black and green fur banner of my Blacktide Island family will fly side by side atop the walls of Faros!"

He waved his arm and proclaimed, "These two flags are your protection from this day forward! They will safeguard your lives and property, and protect your livelihoods and trade! As long as you serve loyally, we will all witness the prosperity of Faros!"

Euron seemed to only then notice the forgotten figure, his light lazily sweeping over it and landing on the Qarthian man who was still kneeling on the ground, with a cold axe against his neck.

"Oh?" Euron uttered a flat, emotionless syllable, his tone devoid of any interest. "You... seem to have something else to say?"

These words were like a pardon. The Qarthian man quickly raised his head, his pale face a mixture of surviving terror and an eagerness to express himself. He spoke rapidly, "Yes, yes! Your Excellency Euron, greetings. I am Jared Taylor of Qarth." He took a deep breath and stated his true purpose, "I have come on behalf of the Ancient Spice Guild to request an audience with you, sir!"

"Request an audience?" Euron laughed, as if he had heard something amusing. "I'm with your Spice Ancient Guild—"

There doesn't seem to have been much business dealings between us in the past, right?

“Not before, sir,” Jared Taylor hastily admitted, raising his eyes to try and make his gaze appear sincere. “But we hope that from now on, we can have a very close business relationship that is mutually beneficial.”

Euron's cold expression melted away instantly. He kindly reached out and helped the trembling Jared Taylor to his feet, even considerately brushing the dust off his luxurious robes.

"Oh, you should have said so earlier!" Euron's tone was gentle, tinged with reproach, as if the earlier confrontation was merely an unintentional misunderstanding. "Since you're an envoy from the Spice Ancient Guild, we could have easily found a more comfortable setting to discuss this." He leaned closer, lowering his voice with a chilling intimacy: "I almost misunderstood you just now. What if I had accidentally—"

His right hand, like a knife, made a light, deft slash in the air, producing a crisp "snap" sound.

"—Your head would be gone then, wouldn't it?"

Jared Taylor was startled by the realistic "snap" sound, and the little color that had just returned to his face instantly vanished.

Euron asked with a gentle smile, "So, why did you risk everything to see me?"

Jared Taylor gave an awkward laugh, struggling to find the right words: "Lord Euron may not know this, but in fact, both Vahal Island and this city of Faros have always been territories jointly governed by the various merchant guilds of Qarth."

"Oh? So it was originally ruled by the various merchant guilds of Qarth?" Euron raised the corners of his mouth, but his eyes instantly turned cold, and his voice returned to its previous icy tone: "According to you, I'm the one who occupied your territory? So, you're here today on behalf of Qarth to formally declare war on my Iron Islands?"

"No! Absolutely not! Please don't misunderstand!" Jared Taylor waved his hands frantically, almost incoherently: "We—our Chamber of Commerce is willing to voluntarily cede Vahar Island, Faros, and even the port of Morak on Great Morak Island to the Iron Islands. We ask for nothing more than that we can maintain peace and non-aggression in the future."

"Give them up?" Euron raised an eyebrow, his tone almost overflowing with sarcasm. "Weren't these islands acquired by the Iron Islands through warships and swords, honorably and legitimately? When did we need your 'giving'?"

"Of course! There's no doubt you earned it through your own merit!" Jared Taylor was drenched in sweat, his back completely soaked. "My words were inappropriate, please forgive me!"

"Since we conquered it ourselves," Euron stared intently at him, coldly saying, "then what does all of this have to do with your Spice Ancient Guild or any other merchant guild, not even a penny?"

Jared Taylor opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. He could only continue to smile awkwardly, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

Euron waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away an annoying fly, and said impatiently, "Enough, go back." His tone left no room for argument. He continued, "Tell your guild members that if there is truly important business, I will personally travel to Qarth to meet with your royal family when I have the time. You—are not qualified."

Having said that, he ignored Jared Taylor, who was frozen in place, and turned to walk straight into the city of Faros, leaving the messenger, who represented immense wealth but had no real power, along with his "generous" concession, to the sea breeze.