Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 463 Dark Star - Jerro Dayne

The towers of Highgrave looked particularly desolate under the Dornish sun. This castle, a branch of House Dane, was built of dark stone, a stark contrast to the white seaside castle of Starfall.

Ser Gerald Dayne was already waiting in the courtyard when Euron's party passed through the city gates.

Jero leaned against a stone pillar, his dark armor seemingly absorbing all the light around him. This knight, known as the "Dark Star," was like the most dangerous star in the night sky—alluring, yet possessing a deadly edge.

"Welcome to High Hidden City, Your Highness." Ser Jero Dayne's gaze fell directly on Arianne, his voice low as the night wind, with a deliberate huskiness.

After Arianne returned his smile, Ser Jerro Dayne greeted the others: "Duke Euron, Princess Elijah, and dear sister Ashara."

Throughout the subsequent banquet, Gerald remained seated to Ariane's right.

He poured her a glass of Dornish crimson wine and quietly explained the story behind each dish as she savored it. When Arianne laughed heartily at a joke, his gaze lingered on the slight upturn of her lips.

"Let me be your knight, Princess." The next morning, as the party prepared to set off, Gerald knelt on one knee before Arianne.

The morning light fell on his dark hair, but couldn't illuminate his overly knowledgeable eyes. "Dain of High Hidden City may only be a branch of Starfall City, but my sword will forever shine for you."

Arianne looked down at him, a smile that was both an invitation and a provocation on her lips. She didn't answer immediately, but instead scrutinized his handsome yet dangerous face.

Euron was inspecting the saddle nearby, seemingly casual, but actually taking everything in.

Ashara and Ilya exchanged a meaningful glance—this wasn't the first man to be captivated by Ariane's wild charm, but he was definitely the boldest and most persistent.

"Dark Star—" Arianne repeated his nickname softly, as if savoring the name, and chuckled, "I've heard you always pursue the most dangerous things."

Jero raised his head, his eyes shining brightly: "Because only the most dangerous things deserve the most dazzling souls."

As the caravan slowly drove away from Highgrave, a figure riding a black horse appeared in the ranks. Jero Dayne naturally blended into their procession, remaining positioned beside Arianne's carriage like a true guardian knight.

The stone walls of Highgrave receded into the distance behind them as the caravan traveled north along the red dirt roads of Dorne. Jero Dayne, riding his jet-black warhorse, maintained a distance parallel to Arianne's carriage, his dark armor unusually absorbing the sunlight, making him appear like a moving shadow.

Euron rode at the head of the procession, but his gaze kept sweeping over the black figure. Whenever Geralt leaned down to whisper to Arianne inside the carriage curtain, Euron's grip on the reins would tighten involuntarily.

"He is, after all, a member of the Dane family." That night at the camp, Ariane packed her belongings as she did so, seemingly unconcerned.

He said, "In a way, she's a distant relative of Ashara."

Euron silently poked at the campfire, the sparks crackling, and said softly, "Bloodline cannot define a person's character."

Do you know the extent of jealousy this "Dark Star" harbors towards his cousin, the famous Sword of the Morning, Arthur Dayne?

Arianne slowed her movements. "I've heard some rumors," she said, glancing up at Euron, "but rumors are often exaggerated."

"Some rumors are omens of the truth." Euron's gaze sharpened, and he said coldly, "This man is willing to betray allies and harm the innocent to achieve his goals. Do you know that he once attempted to assassinate a nine-year-old girl?"

Arianne frowned. "Is that so?"

Euron answered firmly, "Would I need to lie to you? Only a beast would hurt a little girl."

This just hasn't happened yet. In the original story, Jero Dayne participated in Arianne's plan to enthrone Myrcella, but in reality, he was plotting to assassinate the princess to start a war and gain political capital.

Euron continued, "He had a handsome face, but almost no one in Dorne truly liked him. In the arena, his opponents were often either dead or wounded. There were even rumors that he would coat his weapons with poison. The Dark Star—it wasn't just about his hair and eyes, but also his heart."

Arianne frowned slightly. She recalled when Jero demonstrated swordsmanship to her during the day; his overly sharp moves did indeed carry a ruthlessness that shouldn't have appeared in a friendly competition.

Euron concluded: "He is vindictive, narrow-minded, outwardly respectable but inwardly wicked. In my opinion, he is an absolute hypocrite."

The campfire crackled, its flickering light illuminating the diverse expressions on everyone's faces.

Asara stopped wiping the dagger she was working on, her brow furrowing slightly. "He is, after all, my cousin, with the blood of the Dane family flowing in his veins. How can you portray him as such a heinous scoundrel?" Her tone carried the displeasure that came from having one's family honor offended.

Ilya chuckled softly, her insightful eyes shining brightly in the firelight: "What, even our great navigator gets jealous when he sees someone pursuing Ariane?" Her teasing eased the atmosphere slightly.

Arianne toyed with a strand of curly hair, a half-smile playing on her red lips. "I have nothing to do with you, Euron. You wouldn't be trying to make me look at you differently by badmouthing him, would you?" Her gaze was probing, yet also deliberately distant.

Euron sighed deeply, the firelight flickering in his iron-grey eyes. "Perhaps there's a little selfishness involved," he said frankly, meeting Ariane's gaze. "After all, I was your first man."

This sentence caused the air to suddenly become quiet, and even the footsteps of the patrolling guards in the distance could be clearly heard.

Euron's voice became exceptionally serious. "But if you truly meet a good man who treats you sincerely, I will wish you well." His gaze shifted to Geralt, who was feeding the horses in the distance. "But he is not worthy of you. How can someone who cannot even tolerate the honor of his own cousin truly appreciate your brilliance?"

Euron solemnly said, "Although I haven't been able to see through the magic in someone's heart, you should know my experience..."

Having traveled across the narrow sea and fought his way through various places, he encountered all sorts of things and met all sorts of people. He possessed a certain ability to discern whether a person was trustworthy.

Ashara looked thoughtfully in Jero's direction, and Ilya's playful expression also vanished. Arianne stopped fiddling with her hair and looked directly into Euron's eyes, seemingly trying to discern the true meaning behind his words.

A night breeze swept through the camp, carrying the unique coolness of the desert. Under this starry sky, the relationship between the four was like a flickering flame in a reed fire, containing both the warmth of the past and the lingering concern, as well as the worries and protection for the future.

"I know what I'm doing," Arianne finally said softly, but her gaze no longer followed the black figure so intently as before.