Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 90 Youlun, what do you think?

After the euphoria of victory, the cold reality is like a rock exposed after the tide recedes, sharp and inescapable.

The excitement of plundering gradually cooled as the solemnity of tallying battle losses settled. A crucial question weighed heavily on the minds of every Iron Islands lord, and hung between the brows of King Coron.

What should we do next? What's the next step?

The clamor in the hall subsided, replaced by a deeper restlessness and weighing of the future. Even the rugged lords' smiles faded, their gazes fixed on their king. Two drastically different paths, like forked sea lanes, lay before the Iron Islands.

Option 1: Grab it and run!

Option 2: Long-term occupation!

"Speak your mind!" King Coron clasped his hands together in front of his chest, his gaze sweeping over each lord present, clearly laying out these two paths before them. "Tell me your choice. Are you content with the gold before you, or—risk everything to seize the goose that lays the golden eggs, while preparing to face the storm that follows?"

As soon as King Coron finished speaking, it was like pouring a ladle of cold water into a boiling pot of oil; the hall instantly erupted into chaos. The lords were no longer silent listeners, but began to express their opinions excitedly, and the debate quickly became heated.

The pro-war faction was led by the young Baron Greyjoy, who was the first to jump up, slamming his fist on the table, making his wine glass rattle. His face was still stained with blood, and his eyes burned with burning ambition: "Occupy! Of course, occupy! Father! We've shed so much blood, lost so many brothers, are we just going to leave after taking a bunch of gold? What's the difference between that and our previous petty squabbles!"

His voice blazed with fervor: "Greenwood Island! It's one of the richest islands in the Seven Kingdoms! Its vineyards, its harbors, its tax revenue! Once we take it, the Iron Islands will truly have the confidence to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Lannisters and Tyrells! We'll no longer be 'those island barbarians'! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! What are we afraid of? What are we afraid of? The Mad King? If they dare to come, we'll fight them again at sea! We'll let them taste the might of the 'Ocean Troll'!"

Earl Raffer Gubler of Warhammerhorn slammed his fist on the table. He was a burly man with a booming voice: "Baron boy is right!"

"Rob and run? That's too easy on them! I just had my fill of slaughtering, so I'll stay and see just how formidable the Reach knights are! Can their horses swim across the sea to fight us? If we take this place, we'll be a dagger thrust into the heart of the Reach!"

Warlike tendencies are inherent to the Ironborn. The proposal for long-term occupation was echoed by many Iron Islands nobles, who cheered loudly and roared: "Let the glory of the Iron Islands be restored!"

"The Scholar" Rodrik Harlow immediately shook his head, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable logical force, clashing with the fervor around him: "Lord Baron, Lord Laffer, your courage is commendable, but if I may be so bold, this is reckless disregard for reality." He touched the corner of his eye, where a scratch was seeping blood, blurring his vision. "What does occupation mean? It means we have to dedicate half or even more of our forces to this place permanently, defending the long coastline, dealing with endless harassment and future large-scale counterattacks. Our foundation is in the Iron Islands; if our main force is trapped here, what will happen to our homeland?"

He surveyed the crowd, continuing his calm analysis: "The Tyrells possess tens of thousands of troops in the Reach. Even with their navy damaged, their war potential far surpasses ours. Once they complete their mobilization and besiege the island, we'll be in a dilemma. And King Aerys of King's Landing—" He paused, "he's mad now, but he's still king. A prolonged occupation is tantamount to an open division of the kingdom, and he'll do anything to destroy us as an example. We'll face the wrath of all Westeros. To gamble the entire future of the Iron Islands for an island? We can't afford that price."

Earl Shevory Sucliff of Salt Cliff Island, a cautious old lord, nodded tremulously: "Rodrick is right—gold is only truly yours when you have it in your hands. Occupying land is like carrying a heavy, hot potato. Our Iron People's advantage lies at sea, swift as the wind. To stay and become a fixed target? That's using your weakness to exploit someone else's strength. It's better to take what we have, take the real gold dragon back to build houses, construct new ships, and strengthen ourselves—that's the right path."

On Qingting Island, far from their homeland, they were likely to be besieged; as an exclave, they lost the advantage of the sea.

Earl Dunstan Drummer, "Bonehand" of Old Wake Island, stroked the calluses on his good hands and spoke in a rough voice, like the grinding of gravel: "Baron wants to fight, he's got guts! Rodrik wants to back down, he's got brains! They both have a damn point!" He cursed, "But I think this can't be decided by guts alone, nor by mere calculation. Taking it is risky, but the rewards are fucking terrifying. The key is whether we can hold onto it?"

He looked at Corinth: "Your Majesty, even if we intend to seize it, we must first assess how quickly and ruthlessly Tyrell and King's Landing react. How about this: we must first transport most of the gold—that belongs to the brothers. But we can temporarily refrain from burning the ports and shipyards, leaving a contingent of elite troops here to guard the area and gauge the situation. If Highgarden and King's Landing react slowly, we can gradually erode their strength. If their armies press in, then we can burn everything, loot everything, and escape by ship! What do you say?"

The Sandweave family lord of Kuroshio Island was more concerned with practical interests: "Whether I occupy it or not, my men can't have died in vain! The compensation and rewards must be distributed first! And doubled! If we decide to defend it, those who stay must get the most money! Otherwise, who the hell wants to stay in this godforsaken place and live in fear?"

The hall was filled with a cacophony of arguments, with the pro-war and pro-plunder factions each holding their own ground. Those advocating occupation painted a picture of overwhelming power, while those arguing for retreat emphasized the real risks and ancient wisdom. The centrists, meanwhile, sought a compromise that maximized their own interests.

All eyes finally returned to Lord Corren Greyjoy. He was the helmsman of the Iron Islands, and the final course rested with him. Would they forge ahead against the current, vying for immense riches? Or would they know when to stop, follow the ancient path, and return laden with their spoils?

This debate will determine the future fate of the Iron Islands.

King Coron's gaze, sharp as tempered iron, slowly swept over each of the lords in the hall, who stood there holding their breath. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, blood, and a powerful mix of longing and unease about the future. He listened to the debates of these brave but perhaps not-so-wise captains, their arguments a mix of radicalism and conservatism. Finally, his deep gaze fell upon the blood-stained battle damage statistics on the table.

He didn't immediately answer whether to stay or leave. Instead, he turned to his second son, Euron, who was sitting silently on his left, and asked, "Euron, you founded the Ice and Fire Merchant Guild, and you were the one who first proposed the decision to start this war. What do you think of this situation now?"