Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Oberyn Martell spread out a thick parchment map in front of Euron and tapped the Braavos mark with his finger.

Euron had originally asked him to complete the plan within a month, but Oberyn Martell was indeed very efficient, finishing the entire plan in just half a month. Perhaps, as he himself said, he already had a plan to travel to Essos, but simply hadn't taken action yet.

"We'll start from here, first to the nine free city-states." His tone was crisp, like a mercenary captain assigning a mission. "We'll head southeast along the coastline, stopping at each city-state, eventually reaching the Serpent Lizard Islands."

He traced the route with his finger and introduced it in a steady voice: "We set off by ship from the port of Braavos, heading east, with our first stop being Pentos."

"To leave Pentos, we first need to find a massive khalasar. We'll present him with gifts, and he'll allow us to accompany him as 'guests' on our journey to their holy city, across the Dothraki plains. The gifts, of course, are your responsibility, but I'll give you some ideas, because if the gifts aren't suitable, well, those Dothraki scimitars won't be lenient."

"Turning southeast, we followed the mountain road into Norfolk, where the priestly class holds power. Their diet is simple, consisting almost entirely of hardened cured meat and gritty black bread, accompanied by murky beer. What Norfolk truly cannot miss are their runic ironware, especially their daggers—each one hand-forged by mountain artisans, its blade engraved with ancient protective runes, sharp enough to cut through shadows, and never rusting."

"After leaving Norfos, we turned due east and entered the territory of the Kohor Forest. There are many bandits there, but one day is not enough to get out of the forest. We will definitely spend a night in the forest, be prepared to fight the bandits there. Beyond the forest is the city of Kohor. The entire city is a huge forge, and the air is always filled with the smell of burning metal and sulfur. The craftsmen here have mastered the forging secrets passed down for thousands of years, while the red-robed mages study red magic that comes at the cost of blood and fire."

"Continuing south, the road gradually narrows, winding its way into the grey, rolling mountains of Loras. Far from trade routes, silence is the only language. The locals, like the mountains they live on, are silent and resolute, exchanging information with glances rather than pleasantries. Loras is rich in beautifully textured silver-white stone and silver-rich veins, and stone carving workshops are everywhere. The craftsmen's generations-old skills transform the cold stone into works of art where graceful curves and sharp edges coexist, well worth stopping to admire."

"Turning southwest, you'll then enter Ries. A city of extravagance, where lust is an open transaction and the very essence of life. Along the long streets, there are more pleasure houses than taverns, with men and women draped in thin veils leaning against carved balconies, their laughter dripping like sticky honey. The air is always filled with the fragrance of sweet wine, the warm scent of expensive spices, and a more intimate, alluring musk."

Oberon Martell smiled broadly: "This is Ries, my favorite city."

………………

Euron listened quietly to Oberyn's plan, raising questions and making changes only on a few routes, while largely following Oberyn's arrangements. In fact, Euron had already considered dozens of feasible routes before Oberyn presented his plan; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to make a decision so quickly.

In addition to the customized plan, we need to recruit more people. Not just soldiers, this dangerous journey requires all sorts of people.

The first one was Vittorio Grey, once a fearsome khal on the Dothraki seas. His roar could make the fiercest warhorses bow their heads, and the grasslands would give way where his scimitar pointed. However, fate played the cruelest joke on him—in a battle, a terrible fall from his horse not only broke his leg bones but also his backbone as a warrior.

He cut off his once-proud braid and shaved his head. Now, he walks with a limp, his left leg no longer able to bear the weight of riding. In a nation that lives on horseback, a Dothraki man who cannot fight on horseback is like an eagle with broken wings. He lost his Khal status and, more importantly, his reason for living. He could only leave the steppes that gave him birth and nurtured him, disheartened, and wander among the city-states, becoming an empty shell carrying the weight of his past glory.

It was his former prestige as a Khal and his strategic vision that made Maleo decide to keep him by his side. Although Vittorio could no longer personally charge into battle, he was, after all, a Khal, and he was the most suitable person to deal with the Dothraki.

The second and third were both bearded men, Alio Jota and Bastian Fernandez.

Ario Hota, the current captain of the Martell family guard, was sent by the Prince of Dorne to "protect" Prince Oberyn Martell. This wording infuriated the free-spirited Red Viper—when had he ever needed to be watched? But despite his displeasure, he couldn't simply refuse. It wasn't just an order; it was an undeniable expression of concern from his family.

Ario Hota stood firmly, silent as a mountain. In his early years, he underwent rigorous training under the bearded monks of Norfolk, becoming highly skilled in martial arts, especially adept at wielding that terrifying long-handled axe. His gaze was sharp as an eagle's, always vigilant; he was more like a mobile fortification than a guard.

Accompanying him was his close friend, Sebastian Fernandez. Both trained under the same master, both tempered by the iron and blood of monastic discipline, their bond unbreakable. Sebastian was equally skilled and loyal. Standing side by side, they were like the Dornish sun and sandstorm—one as serene as a rock, the other as fiery as a blade. These two "Greatsword Monks" from Norfolk were not only formidable fighters, but more importantly, possessed unwavering loyalty. Their presence was both a form of protection and a silent deterrent.

The third is Lomas "Long Legs," named for his extraordinary height and tireless pace. As a scholar and writer, his fighting ability is negligible; however, his value far surpasses that of swords.

His footprints have covered every corner of the known world, even venturing into many hidden realms inaccessible to ordinary people. Desolate ruins, isolated city-states, and forgotten civilizations have all bore the marks of his exploration. He recorded and compiled these extraordinary experiences and observations into his famous work, *Miracles*. This book not only became a treasure trove for understanding the wonders of the world but also showcased his profound observational skills and inexhaustible curiosity. Although he was physically weak, his mind was his most powerful weapon, and his experience his strongest armor.

Euron remembered that Tyrion was his devoted reader, and that the Miracle had been read so many times it was almost worn out.

The fourth is Castor Daniels, nicknamed "Regretful One," from the Far Eastern metropolis of Qarth. He belongs to an ancient and mysterious cult-like assassin organization. Members of this organization are known for their elegant yet deadly actions, particularly their unique "farewell ritual"—before delivering the final blow, they always lean close and whisper in an almost gentle tone, "I regret it." They differ from the Faceless Men because they lack their faith; otherwise, they wouldn't have come upon hearing of the high rewards.

Euron had dealt with Castor Daniels before, but how the two met, what business dealings they had, or any past grievances were not within Euron's consideration.

Euron asked only one question: "I'm very interested in your martial arts. Could you perhaps offer some guidance during my travels?" Castor Daniels, the "Regretful Guest," remained silent. Euron continued: "Double the commission." Castor Daniels, the "Regretful Guest," replied: "I'd be happy to oblige."

The fifth, from the mysterious continent of Sosros, is Samuel, a savage who emerged from the depths of the Yilin Forest. He is exceptionally robust, with bones as thick as mountains and muscles as solid as armor covering his entire body. Particularly striking are his long arms, which seem to belong to some ancient and dangerous jungle creature.

He is currently a mercenary in a small mercenary group, and his face resembles a primitive totem: his forehead slopes steeply, his thick jawbone seems capable of crushing stubborn rocks, and his huge square teeth are faintly visible even when he is silent. His rough black hair is spread out like thorns, adding to his wildness.

Samuel arrived draped in a heavy cloak, completely concealing himself, not out of shyness, but because he had just carried out a massacre in a dimly lit tavern. Aquaman's guards and his lover lay in pools of blood, their deaths reportedly gruesome—their limbs twisted as if they had suffered inhuman violence.

Oberyn Martell's men recruited him because of his formidable fighting prowess. However, Euron Greyjoy gazed at him with a cold, scrutinizing look, and said, "Our journey is long and perilous, and the primary quality I recruit is loyalty." His tone was calm yet unwavering. "How can I be sure you won't stab me in the back on some dark and stormy night?"

Samuel met Euron's gaze, his eyes showing no fear, only a primal and open calm. He replied in a low voice, "The previous mercenary group—the 'Stone Raven'—can testify to my guilt. I have never betrayed my comrades."

Oberyn Martell nodded; he had checked Samuel's credentials before bringing him. Euron, having received confirmation from Oberyn Martell, smiled and nodded, saying, "Welcome to the team!"

The sixth is Edwin Ramirez, from the Lizard Islands, a former pirate captain with a complex personality. His meticulously trimmed mustache always sticks up high, like his undying arrogance, while his deep black eyes hide an imperceptible fear and obsession. Beneath his windswept brown hair is a face that tells a story.

Months ago, a cruel betrayal changed his life. His most trusted crew member stabbed him twice in the back and pushed him into the icy sea. He drifted alone on the endless ocean for ten days, finally being rescued by a passing merchant ship thanks to his will to survive and a bit of luck. This experience left an indelible mark on him—he often unconsciously touches his back, his eyes oscillating violently between trust and suspicion.

At that moment, he habitually rubbed his signature mustache between his thumb and forefinger, his voice low and filled with obsession: "I need money, a substantial amount of money. Your commission is quite good." His gaze swept over the crowd, as if he could already see the shadowy docks of the Lizard Islands. "The Lizard Islands are your last stop, but my starting point. I will go back and find those traitors one by one, slit their throats, reclaim my ships, and return to the seas that truly belong to me."

"The summer seas of Sothros are a deadly mystery to others, but to me, I could swim three laps in them with my eyes closed. And the Lizard Islands are my home; I am absolutely the best guide there."

Euron needs someone familiar with Sothros, and if Edwin Ramirez isn't lying, he's an absolutely essential talent.

The seventh is Gwendolyn, from the city of shadows and arcane arts, Ashar, a red priestess serving the Lord of Light, R'hllor. A flickering flame dances in her eyes, as if she can glimpse the threads of fate beyond the reach of mortals.

Euron Greyjoy recruited her aboard not out of faith, but out of a cold curiosity.

He had read the original story and knew of the terrifying power displayed by the famous priestess Melisandre—the ability to foresee the future, manipulate shadows, and even steal lives with blood magic. He had no awe for these powers themselves, but he knew that in this game of power, ignoring any one of them would be a fatal folly.

He didn't aspire to learn these bizarre techniques, but he firmly believed that someone had to understand the rules by which they worked.

Gwendolyn's existence was a firewall he placed beside him. He wanted to see through her eyes the mysteries of light and shadow, and to guard against the possibility that one day he might be tricked by the same dark tricks.

Knowledge, especially knowledge about the enemy, is itself a weapon.

The last one is Evelyn, the Shadowbinder, from the legendary land of shadows.

She always wore a mask, her entire body shrouded in an airtight dark fabric. The only thing visible was her pair of dark emerald green eyes—eyes that seemed to hold secrets and whispers accumulated over centuries, and which always looked at people with an inhuman calmness and penetrating insight.

Euron Greyjoy developed a strong interest in her. He always harbored an almost insatiable curiosity about all the rare and dangerous magical powers in the world. Whether it was the Lord of Light's prophecy of fire or the shadow magic manipulated by the Shadowbinders, he saw them as nothing more than different forms of power, worthy of being understood, analyzed, and even mastered.

Oberon Martell, standing to the side, could only shrug and shake his head.

The Prince of Dorne, though learned in many ways, could not comprehend Euron's obsession with such profound arts. He said nothing, only a helpless smile playing on his lips—after all, Euron was the one paying, he was the boss. And the boss's will determined the course of the voyage.