Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 99 The End of the War

The dock was filled with the salty smell of the sea and the lingering scent of burnt wood.

The Iron People's longship fleet, like a pack of satiated sea monsters, pressed heavily on the water, their hulls drafted deep due to the centuries-old accumulation of Qingting Island. Golden-red wine, gleaming gold and silver artifacts, ancient books and brocades, even carefully wrapped golden grapevines from Qingting Island—all of this was transported onto the ships in an orderly fashion.

Much of the gold and silver treasures had already left with the ship; these were just the last remnants.

Lady Olenna stood at the edge of the dock, like a small, hard stone statue, as if what had been moved had nothing to do with Green Pavilion Island, nothing to do with Highgarden. The sea breeze caressed her wrinkled face, but could not dispel the cold scrutiny in her eyes. She glanced at Euron Greyjoy, not with the jubilation of his captains, but with a faint smile playing on her lips, as if this great victory was nothing more than an amusing game to him.

Two Ironborn escorted Earl Adrian Redwin forward. The old earl was dressed fairly neatly, but his face was pale, and his eyes darted around, avoiding his sister's gaze. Olena's gaze lingered on her brother for only a moment, then she nodded slightly, and servants quickly stepped forward to take him from her.

The heavy wooden crate was carried to the edge of the dock by Ironborn soldiers, landing heavily on the rough, broken stone slabs with a dull thud that sent a chill down one's spine. A soldier pried open the crate lid with his sword, and with a creak, the contents were revealed—thousands upon thousands of gold dragon coins, densely packed together, reflecting a heavy yet alluring dark gold light even in the leaden, overcast sky. They lay there silently, telling the story of the enormous price paid by House Tyrell—these two gold dragons were the price for the ransom of Earl Adrian Redwyn.

The transaction was completed in an eerie silence. The salty sea breeze seemed to freeze in the air, leaving only the monotonous sound of waves crashing against the shore, a sound so oppressive it was suffocating.

Lady Olenna's aura slowly rose from the dazzling golden light, passing over the cold wealth, and once again locked onto Euron Greyjoy with the precision of a hawk. Her voice was not loud, but strangely it pierced through the low whistling of the sea breeze and the sobbing of the waves; every syllable was crystal clear, as cold as a carefully polished icicle.

Euron Greyjoy.

Euron stepped forward, his usual smile seeming to deepen slightly, and nodded slightly: "Yes, Lady Olena."

The old woman stared at him, her eyes showing no sign of the relaxation that comes with a completed transaction; rather, they resembled those of a chess player scrutinizing their opponent's last move. She remained silent for a moment before slowly posing a question that, while seemingly routine, was actually laced with hidden meaning:

"These golden dragons," she gestured with her eyes to the several open chests, "aren't you going to count them?"

Her tone was flat and unremarkable, as if it were just a casual remark, yet she imbued the word "point" with a very slight weight. It could be a simple reminder, a veiled question, or perhaps her own final, cold examination of the humiliation represented by this "ransom."

Euron let out a low, hoarse chuckle, as if he had heard an amusing joke. He waved his hand casually, his posture as relaxed as if he were refusing an extra drink.

“No need, madam.” His gaze swept over the gold coins without lingering, finally settling on Olenna’s face. “The reputation of the Tyrell family of Highgarden shines far brighter than these cold metals. And I,” he paused, his tone becoming meaningful, “prefer to trust your character and integrity, Madam Olenna. Counting gold coins would be far too vulgar for dealing with you.”

His response was perfect, both elevating her and skillfully catching her probing attack, while also imbuing this naked monetary redemption with an almost hypocritical, chivalrous air of respect for the opponent.

On the dock, the tense atmosphere seemed to become even more complicated and difficult to discern because of this conversation. The shimmering light of the 20,000 golden dragons seemed to have become a cold footnote to this silent contest.

She began, "I've long heard of your extraordinary abilities. At the age of seven, you dared to sail across the Narrow Sea—a courage unmatched in Westeros. I've heard that even Jaime Lannister, knighted by Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, was defeated by you in Lannister Harbor. Truly courageous!"

Euron paused for a moment, then casually explained, "I was afraid of the cold, so I did go to play on the other side of the Narrow Sea for a few years, but I had hundreds of guards with me. As for the duel with Jaime Lannister in Lannister Harbor, that was just after-dinner entertainment and doesn't count."

She paused briefly, her gaze sweeping over the towns around her that had not been plundered and the dejected but surviving Tyrell soldiers.

"To breach a city without harming civilians, to accept surrender without killing prisoners, and to hold wildfire but not use it to burn the city—this is called benevolence."

"All pre-war promises have been fulfilled today, without a single breach. This is called trust."

"As for this battle—" she chuckled softly, her laughter devoid of warmth, "if it weren't for your boldness and meticulousness, your advance planning to infiltrate Qingting, your use of fire to confuse the enemy, and your eventual capture of the king and victory, even if we had won, the price we paid would have been doubled. That is wisdom."

Her voice suddenly rose a fraction, making sure everyone around her, especially the Iron Citizens, could hear her final conclusion:

"King Koren! You've truly raised a fine son!"

These words were like a carefully thrown pebble, stirring up undercurrents beneath the calm surface of water.

Olenna Redwyn, the Queen of Thorns, smiled, seemingly in genuine admiration. But everyone who knows the Iron Islands knows that the right to inherit the Iron Islands belongs to Baron Greyjoy.

She elevated Euron to such a high level that he overshadowed his brother's brilliance, ignited the tinder of ambition, or drew his brother's attention.

Euron chuckled softly. Anyone who couldn't understand the meaning behind her praise would truly be a fool. "You flatter me, my lady." He raised his head, his eyes, hidden in the shadows, gleaming with an eerie light. "The fame of 'Lord Inflatable Fish' has truly spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms; no one is unaware of it."

"I never expected to have such a unique son, but he just happens to be the Duke of Highgarden and the Guardian of the Southern Border."

"Who told me my belly to be so uncooperative, only giving birth to this one son? If there had been another choice, he wouldn't have been able to sit on that throne. That's just fate!" Elena Redwin, the Queen of Thorns, didn't care about Euron's rebuttal. She even laughed; she was the one who gave him that nickname.

Euron said calmly, "I believe that Highgarden will surely prosper under Lady Olenna's leadership!"

King Coron, too impatient to listen to their public flattery and covert sabotage, shouted, "Euron, it's time to set off!"

Lady Olenna smiled and nodded: "It's been a long time since I've seen such an interesting young man like you. If you have time to come to Highgarden in the future, the Tyrell family will definitely give you a good welcome."

Euron boarded the ship, waved, and said, "The most beautiful castle in all of Westeros, I'll definitely go!"

The ships of the Iron Islands returned laden with cargo.

Lady Olenna slowly turned around, her gaze sweeping over the crowd before her—her brother, Lord Alister Redwin of Green Pavilion Island, whose once ruddy and proud face was now ashen, his head hanging heavily as if his neck had been broken by the twenty thousand golden dragons. Her nephew, even more so, had almost buried his face in his chest, not daring to look up and meet anyone's gaze.

Behind them stood the Redwyn family soldiers, their faces and bodies stained with soot and blood, their once golden grape-embroidered cloaks tattered. Every face bore the shame of utter defeat, the bewilderment of their looted homes, and a deep, silent despair. A despair heavier than the salty stench of the sea permeated the entire dock.

Lady Olena's gaze, like a cold dagger, slowly scraped across each dejected face. In the silence, only the crashing waves and the mournful cries of seagulls in the distance could be heard.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was incredibly sharp, instantly piercing the heavy atmosphere.

"It's just a lost war," she said coldly, her words sharp and resonant, striking everyone's hearts. "Look at you all. Has Green Pavilion Island sunk? Will the sun never shine on our vineyards again? Or have your hearts, along with the golden dragon in the money box, been pried out by the Iron People?"

She took a small step forward, her small frame exuding an aura of authority that made people afraid to look directly at her.

"They stole our gold, burned our warships, and tarnished our glory. Yes, it's a defeat, a disgrace!" Her voice suddenly rose, like a whip lashing the air, "But at least, your arms are still attached to your shoulders, your heads are still on your necks! You are still alive!"

She paused for a moment, letting the word "alive" fall heavily into everyone's hearts.

"As long as we live, the future is long. Long enough for us to remember every humiliation of today, long enough for us to sharpen every sword and fill every sack—not just wine, but also the oil of revenge!" Her gaze swept over her brother and nephew again, her tone fierce. "If you only droop like frost-bitten grapevines, reeking of defeat and decay, then I will now show you a clear path—"

She suddenly raised her withered hand and pointed to the surging, deep, and icy sea.

"Let's just jump in now! Drown ourselves! That way we won't waste Highgarden's food, and it'll save our enemies from laughing at the fact that the Redwyn family will never stand up straight!"

As the words fell, a deathly silence fell over the dock. But in that stagnant despair, it was as if a red-hot iron had been thrown in. Some soldiers instinctively straightened their backs, clenched their fists, and the extinguished flame in their eyes seemed to be rekindled by these cold, cruel, yet incredibly realistic words, a faint but tenacious light.

"Let's go and see what we have left," Lady Olena said, having her brother and nephew count the remaining items.

"They really cleaned it thoroughly; they even scraped off a layer of plaster from the walls and raised the floor by three feet."

"But at least they still have some conscience; their father's portrait is still hanging in the same place."