Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 451 The Cruelest Revenge—Losing Everything

The triple walls of Qarth stand majestically, like three silent giants guarding this city of spices and gold. Their bizarre and magnificent design is a wonder of the world and the most direct symbol of the city's supreme power.

The outermost wall is made of huge red sandstone, more than thirty feet high. The surface of the wall is carved with countless lifelike animals: coiled pythons, soaring eagles, and roaring lions. They silently gaze at all travelers who try to approach, exuding a primitive and majestic aura.

The inner central wall is constructed of even harder gray granite, rising to a height of forty feet. The wall is a vast, continuous relief, depicting countless lifelike battle scenes: knights charging, war elephants trampling, and swords clashing, as if freezing a thousand years of war and glory onto the cold stone.

The innermost wall, constructed of smooth, mirror-like black marble, stands fifty feet tall and serves as the final bulwark protecting the royal family and their core secrets. However, this innermost, most solemn wall is covered with exquisite and licentious erotic carvings, where extreme solemnity and extreme desire intertwine absurdly, revealing Qarth's deep-seated extravagance and contradictions.

The materials of the three city gates also progress in order: the outer gate is inlaid with copper, which gleams with a reddish luster in the setting sun; the middle gate is inlaid with iron, which is cold and hard, exuding an inviolable determination; the inner gate is the most luxurious, not only is the material unknown, but it is also inlaid with countless gold-cast eyes, as if they can see into the souls of all those who enter the city.

These doors are indeed beautiful and extremely practical. Their heavy construction and ingenious structure were enough to withstand the roaring Dothraki cavalry and forests of scimitars, and for thousands of years they have never been breached head-on by forces from the land.

However, they could not stop the dragon.

One evening, as the triple walls of Qarth cast ever more majestic shadows in the fading sunlight, a dragon's roar ripped through the clouds. Euron Greyjoy arrived on his dragon. The immense shadow swept across the intricately carved red sandstone outer walls, over the granite inner walls that bore witness to countless battles, ignoring the totems of desire entwined on the black marble, and the gaze of those golden eyes. The walls remained imposing, the gates still sturdy, but beneath the outstretched wings of the dragon, all their defensive significance became, in that instant, pale and laughable.

From the moment Euron's fleet set sail from the shadow of Asshal and turned its bows to the west, his movements were like a pebble thrown into a still lake, stirring up invisible ripples in the power struggle on both sides of the Narrow Sea.

His whereabouts were being watched by countless eyes.

Whether it was the nominal ruling royal family of Qarth, the thirteen powerful figures who actually held power, the Tourmaline Brotherhood and the Spice Guild, or ordinary people and small merchants, all forces were watching Euron's movements closely.

The return of this sea monster lord, who rode dragons, conquered Thunder Island, and set foot at the ends of the world, was inevitable.

But no one knows what he will bring.

Is it forbidden knowledge from Asshal? An ancient curse from the Shadowlands? Or a more direct and violent flame of conquest?

Speculation and unease grew in every corner, fermenting with every league of his fleet's westward journey.

Until Lisa Garfield's long-hidden royal identity was suddenly revealed, it was like a lightning bolt cleaving through the fog.

Only the most astute observers glimpsed the outline of the truth from this sudden flash of light. This woman had laid the groundwork for a long time, weaving such a dense network in business and politics, and it was not merely for revenge or wealth.

What she is after is undoubtedly a position that can not be advanced any further.

All the clues point to the same answer: the unique and supreme position that transcends all titles.

The crown that Qarth has not seen in nearly a thousand years is the only one worthy of her scheme and the final resting place that can contain her unfathomable ambition.

When Lisa Garfield's royal status intertwines with the Iron Islands' power to create an invisible web of power, the situation of her other enemy, Orlando Zachary, takes a sharp turn for the worse.

The Spices Guild, which had once sheltered him, now displayed its most utterly realistic and ruthless side. The guild's leadership held an emergency meeting overnight and, without the slightest hesitation, reached a consensus: they must not provoke the soon-to-be-ascended lady because of a member destined for destruction.

The following day, a meticulously worded notice bearing the guild's mithril seal was delivered directly to Orlando Zachary's residence. The notice explicitly announced that, in accordance with a certain clause of the guild's ancient rules, the individual was officially expelled from the guild, effective immediately, and stripped of all membership rights and trading privileges.

Meanwhile, a similar statement quietly circulated among the top business leaders in Qarth. The statement emphasized that all of Orlando Zachary's words and actions were unrelated to the Spice Ancient Guild, and the guild bore no responsibility or liability for any of his actions.

This was tantamount to a public severance and betrayal. The guild, like shedding a piece of rotten flesh tainted by plague, swiftly and decisively abandoned Orlando Zachary in the impending storm, leaving him alone to face the wrath of the returning royalty and her dragon husband.

Orlando Zachary's misfortune, like a toppled domino, once started, could not be stopped and quickly evolved into a complete catastrophe.

The hijacking of Orlando's merchant ships was the beginning of all the nightmares. Any ship flying his flag that sailed out of Qarth Port was like a stone sinking into the sea. None of the merchant ships that went out, whether they were fully loaded with goods or had skilled crews, returned.

News came back in bits and pieces. Some said he had encountered unprecedented pirates, while others said he had been dragged into the deep sea by an unknown shadowy monster. The truth was shrouded in mystery, but the result was consistent: his lifeline at sea had been cleanly and decisively severed.

Those spice-producing regions that had cooperated with him for many years seemed to have reached a tacit agreement overnight, refusing to sell him even an ounce of goods. Whether through coercion or bribery, he received only a cold rejection.

Within Qarth, all his transactions were unilaterally halted. Whether long-time business partners or mere acquaintances, merchants made it clear they didn't want to offend Lisa and would no longer do business with her. His warehouses were stockpiled with unsold goods, and no one dared sell him the raw materials and necessities he desperately needed. Orlando felt as if he were trapped in an invisible, isolated prison.

The final straw that broke the camel's back came from the bank.

His former smiles were replaced by cold debt collection letters; once his financial lifeline completely collapsed, the bankers immediately bared their fangs.

No money to pay off debts? Then immediately use their existing mansions, real estate, and stockpiled gold coins and goods to pay off the debts.

In a short period of time, Orlando Zachary went from a prominent tycoon to someone penniless, abandoned by everyone, and left all alone, waiting for the sword that had been hanging over his head to finally fall.

Orlando Zachary knew better than anyone where the source of this series of misfortunes lay.

The woman's name, Lisa Garfield, gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

Before becoming penniless and abandoned by everyone, he used his last bit of money—his life-saving fund hidden deep in a secret room for emergencies. Carrying this heavy bag of gems, which represented all his hopes, he stepped through the inconspicuous door of "The Regretful Guest" like a gambler who had lost everything.

He wants to hire Regret to assassinate Lisa.

This was the only counterattack he could think of, a desperate gamble. He fantasized that if that woman died, the curse placed on him would be lifted, and he might still have a glimmer of hope.

But unexpectedly—

The regretful envoy who received him spoke with a calm, unwavering voice. He listened carefully to his request, but without even glancing at the value of the gems the man presented, he gently pushed the money pouch back to Orlando.

"Lord Orlando," the envoy's tone remained impeccably polite, but there was not a trace of pity in his well-trained eyes, "I am sorry for your situation."

The famous catchphrase of the Regretful Organization sounds coldly sarcastic at this moment.

Before Orlando could react to this sudden rejection, two silent, burly men had already appeared beside him. There was no rough shoving, but an irresistible force clearly "guided" him, driving him out of the door through which he had placed his last hope.

He stood alone on the bustling streets of Qarth, with closed doors behind him and a future of utter despair before him.

He was ruthlessly deprived of even the chance to risk his life.

When Orlando Zachary returned home dejectedly, he found a place that was no longer the luxurious and hedonistic haven he remembered.

On the gilded gate of the mansion, bank seals stamped in bright red were crossed, resembling two grotesque scars in the setting sun. His home had been seized by the bank to pay off debts. Looking through the wrought-iron railings into the courtyard, it was completely empty, not even a decent potted plant remained.

His beautiful wives and concubines had all fled with their belongings, without leaving a word of farewell, as if he were just a rat abandoned on a sinking ship.

Apart from a rumpled silk outfit, Orlando Zachary, once a glamorous tycoon, is now penniless.

The pedestrians on the street seemed to be watching him. Those gazes, whether pitying, mocking, or indifferent, all became, in his distorted perception, ominous signs staring at him, wanting to kill him. Fear gripped his heart, and he dared not linger in broad daylight any longer.

Orlando, like a frightened mouse, scurried into a dark alley between two tall buildings. A damp, putrid stench assaulted his nostrils; this was a place he would never have set foot in before.

Just then, two mercenaries, reeking of cheap liquor and sweat, staggered into the alley after leaving the tavern. They bleary-eyed, giving Orlando a once-over, their gaze lingering on his filthy but still well-made clothes.

Without a word, one of them slammed him against the cold wall, while the other began violently tearing at his clothes. Orlando's feeble struggles and protests were swallowed back down by a heavy punch, leaving him only with painful whimpers. Moments later, Orlando's clothes and all his slightly valuable belongings were gone.

The two mercenaries left cursing and swearing as they carried away their spoils, leaving him naked and huddled in a dark corner.

The cold stone slabs stripped Orlando of the last bit of warmth from his body, and shame, fear, and utter despair, like an icy tide, completely overwhelmed him.

Orlando Zachary went from being incredibly wealthy in Qarth to being worse than the lowest scum.