The heavy door of the inner chamber closed behind them, instantly cutting off the noise and the smell of alcohol from the outside world.
The room was dimly lit, with only a few whale oil candles burning quietly in wall sconces, casting flickering shadows.
Euron Greyjoy sat alone in a wide chair carved from sea beast bone, his elbow resting on the armrest, fingertips lightly touching his jaw. He didn't speak, nor did he immediately look at the people who had entered. He just sat there quietly, as if immersed in his own thoughts.
But an invisible yet incredibly powerful aura radiated from him, heavy and oppressive like the deep sea, causing everyone who entered the room to involuntarily hold their breath. Even the slightest rustle of fabric seemed exceptionally loud.
It was a command without words: Be quiet.
In this suffocating silence, General Gustav Drummond forced himself to steady his mind. He took a step forward, bowed slightly, and broke the silence with a tone as steady and solemn as possible:
"Lord Euron, on behalf of the Triarchy Alliance of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr, we solemnly congratulate you on becoming an indispensable and important part of the Stepstones." His wording was cautious and official, attempting to set a polite and distant tone for this meeting.
Only then did Euron slowly raise his eyes, his gaze calmly sweeping over the group of uneasy representatives before him. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, sketching a faint, unreadable smile. He didn't respond to the congratulations; he simply raised a hand elegantly and made a casual "please" gesture toward the empty chairs in front of him.
The movement was casual, yet it carried an implication that refusal was not an option.
In the inner chamber, the candlelight flickered slightly, illuminating Euron's face in chiaroscuro. His question was like a stone thrown into a still pool, his voice steady, instantly stirring up a thousand waves in the hearts of Gustav Drummond and his representatives.
"The words spoken by Pirate King 'Bloodhand' Marlin just before his death," Euron asked slowly, his gaze sweeping over the men sitting on pins and needles one by one. "What do you think of them?"
General Gustav Drummond straightened his spine almost immediately. His face flushed with urgency, and his tone was incredibly solemn, even carrying a hint of indignant outrage. "That was absolute slander! My Lord! Absolutely false! I swear on my honor and rank, the Triarchy Alliance never issued such an absurd order!"
Listening to his vehement denial, the faint smile on Euron's face deepened slightly, as if hearing something amusing. He leaned forward a little, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. His voice remained calm but carried a cold logical force.
"Oh? A dying man speaks the truth. Those were his last words left in this world. I am very curious—why would he use his last bit of strength to slander you in the most vicious way possible... what benefit could he possibly gain from that?"
Beads of sweat seeped onto General Gustav's forehead. He defended himself hurriedly, his tone somewhat rushed due to nervousness. "He gains nothing! My Lord! That was just the most vicious curse of a madman, a loser before death! He just wanted to drag us down with him, muddy the waters, and try to start a war even after his death! It was complete, thoughtless nonsense!"
Euron listened quietly without pressing further or indicating belief or disbelief. He just looked at the general with those bottomless eyes, then threw out a simpler, yet more lethal question. "Then, tell me, General. You, or your Triarchy Alliance..."
Euron paused, letting every word brand itself clearly into the air. "...how do you intend to prove to me that what he said was false..." His gaze became extremely penetrating. "...and that what you say is true?"
The air in the inner chamber seemed to freeze into ice. Faced with Euron's lethal question, the representative from Tyrosh was momentarily speechless, his face pale, lips trembling. "Th-This... how can this be proved?"
The representative from Myr hurriedly interjected, trying to persuade with logic. "My Lord is wise! Our Triarchy Alliance is built on trade; credibility is our foundation! We would absolutely, absolutely never attack merchant ships that have already paid us toll! That would be tantamount to destroying our own wall; it offers us no benefit!"
---
Listening to these pale defenses, Euron's lips curled into a cold, undisguised sneer. He gave a light hmph—not loud, but it felt like a slap across the representatives' faces.
"Promises?" He repeated the word, as if he had heard the world's most laughable joke. "In the Stepstones, how many Gold Dragons is a flimsy 'promise' worth?" His gaze suddenly sharpened like a knife, sweeping over them one by one. "Don't tell me you've roamed these seas for so many years and don't even understand this basic 'common sense'?"
Without waiting for an answer, he waved his hand wearily, like shooing away a fly, and delivered his final ultimatum directly:
"I give you ten days."
His voice was steady, but it carried an unquestionable will of steel and a terrifying threat.
"Go back. Get ready. Bring me convincing evidence to prove that Pirate King 'Bloodhand' Marlin was slandering and lying before he died."
He paused deliberately, leaning forward slightly. A deep, abyss-like light shone in his good eye as he slowly uttered the other option:
"Or..."
"...get ready to welcome a new war."
The last few words boomed in the small space like a heavy death knell, hammering heavily on everyone's heart.
General Gustav's face turned iron-green. His lips moved, seemingly wanting to argue desperately, trying to salvage a shred of leeway in that cold ultimatum.
Just as he was about to speak, the heavy door of the inner chamber opened silently a crack, as if controlled by an invisible hand.
The faint noise from the hall outside flowed weakly into this suffocating silence like a tide, forming a jarring contrast.
Euron didn't even give him the chance to organize his words. Maintaining that inscrutable, composed posture, he raised his hand elegantly, making a gesture that seemed both placating and dismissing, cutting off all unspoken words.
"The banquet continues, gentlemen," his voice returned to a near-polite steadiness, yet the meaning behind the words made that politeness exceptionally bone-chilling. "Rest assured. On this island, under my protection, I guarantee the... absolute safety of each of you."
All of General Gustav's unspoken words were choked back. He exchanged a quick glance with the other three representatives—a look filled with shock, humiliation, and a deep, piercing fear. Any more words at this moment would be pale and powerless.
In the end, the four could only suppress all their indignation and panic. Maintaining the last shred of teetering dignity, they turned silently and walked out of the oppressive inner chamber one by one.