[Chapter Size: 1300 Words.]
---------------------------------------
Theon was watching several farmers harvesting wheat in the fields when an old man approached him.
"Your Grace, you are here. This wheat is truly remarkable. It matures every two months, the grains are full, and it is highly resistant to disasters. Where did you find these seeds?"
The old man's name was Marius, a farmer. His father had been deeply knowledgeable in agriculture and passed down all his skills, making Marius a respected and well-known farmer.
It was only when Theon ordered the search for skilled farmers that his lord finally took Marius seriously, cared for him properly, and eventually entrusted him to Theon.
Theon waved his hand dismissively. "The seeds are a gift from the Drowned God."
Marius, a shrewd old man, immediately realized he had asked something inappropriate. He quickly bowed his head and said, "My apologies, Your Grace. I forgot that you are the messenger of the Drowned God."
Still, Marius looked at Theon, hesitant to speak further.
"What is it?" Theon asked, noticing his hesitation.
"Your Grace, please come with me." Marius led Theon to an unharvested section of the wheat field. The wheat there had taken on a strange reddish hue.
"Your Grace, look! This wheat is not yet ripe, and the yield is poor. I truly don't understand why."
Theon examined the field and quickly formed a suspicion. The wheat reeked of dragon dung, a pungent mix of rust and burnt ash.
"Do not worry. When this wheat ripens, gather workers to harvest it. Preserve it carefully and inform me at once," Theon ordered.
It had to be Apolo. The dragon must have defecated here often, causing the nearby wheat to mutate.
Ordinary crops would have been scorched to death by dragon dung, yet this disaster-resistant strain had survived and even undergone mutation thanks to its resilience.
Whether it held any special properties was still unclear. Perhaps it did, at least it was unlikely to be fatal.
Experiments could always be conducted on prisoners.
"Your Grace, one more thing," Marius continued. "Lately, we have heard strange roars nearby at night. It might be some sort of monster. A friend claims he saw a pair of enormous eyes. Could you send more men?"
"Please, Your Grace!" Marius fell to his knees, visibly terrified.
Theon looked surprised, then pointed toward a distant cave. "You mean you have not seen Apolo? I thought you knew all along."
Marius lifted his head, staring at the cave in confusion. "There are guards posted there. We never dare approach."
"Then do not be afraid. The oldest creatures in this world dwell there. No monster will harm you. This is Apolo's domain."
Relieved by Theon's reassurance, Marius felt his fear subside. Still, that night, when the distant roars echoed once again, everyone in the settlement trembled.
As for what exactly lived inside that cave, judging by the heavy guard stationed there, Marius knew better than to be curious.
Ever since his family had been sent to this fertile land, he had suspected they were part of some hidden endeavor. Now, he realized his suspicions had been correct.
If these wheat seeds were spread across the land, they would inevitably draw the attention of many powers.
At that moment, a guard approached. "Your Grace, an envoy from King's Landing has arrived."
Theon patted Marius on the shoulder and returned to the hall of Pyke with his guards.
He sat back down on what could generously be called a throne, though, in truth, it was nothing more than a rough stone chair that left his back sore.
"What is it?" Theon asked impatiently. He had no interest in idle chatter. His mind still lingered on the idea of developing a new kind of manure he had considered earlier.
"The Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister, intends to marry Princess Myrcella to you, my lord. This is your chance to gain the highest of honors."
Theon couldn't help but sneer at the envoy's condescending tone. "I'm glad you've thought of marrying me to the princess, but I don't care for your manner of speaking."
"We don't even know if King's Landing will survive Stannis," Yara cut in with a mocking laugh. "Save yourselves first."
The envoy retorted, "If the capital falls, then there would be no need for a marriage alliance at all, would there?"
"To be frank," Theon said coldly, "Tywin has promised me that if I take Riverrun, Stone Hedge, and Seagard, they will be mine. Unless Lord Tywin breaks his word, you're welcome to try and take them back."
Theon's meaning was plain enough: he wanted the cities, not a marriage to Myrcella.
"The lands north of Harrenhal, including Harrenhal itself, shall also be yours, my lord. Lord Tyrion cordially invites you to join the Small Council and serve as Admiral of the Royal Fleet."
Tyrion, of course, understood Theon's nature, he would do nothing without profit. That was why the Imp offered him the northern Riverlands outright.
As for the admiralty, it was a title in name only. More likely, Tyrion intended for the Iron Fleet to be drawn into the war. What a cunning little monkey.
"Tell Tyrion I also want Crackclaw Point, Gulltown, and Runestone. Otherwise, there is no deal. If he agrees, send a raven."
The envoy bowed and departed the hall.
As the messenger left, Theon realized his plans had to change once again. He had originally intended to march on Seagard and Stone Hedge alone, but now it seemed far more likely he would have to go to King's Landing first.
"Yara, assemble the Iron Fleet. If Tyrion agrees, you will lead our men to take Seagard and Stone Hedge. I will also notify Tywin so that Riverrun may send troops to aid you in striking at Robb Stark."
"Understood." Yara immediately summoned the nobles to begin preparations. Raising the fleet was far slower than mustering men for battle, as vast stores of supplies had to be gathered.
Meanwhile, Theon took quill and parchment and wrote to Tywin, asking him to alert both the Boltons and the Freys. He had heard only days earlier that Robb Stark and his "queen" had been wed in a quiet ceremony.
To House Frey, this was nothing less than two stinging slaps across old Lord Walder's face, and slaps that could not be concealed.
It was ironic. The Freys had grown rich collecting tolls at the Twins' bridge, and for that, they were long despised by other lords. For years, the Freys had sought to marry into a ducal family to raise their standing among the nobility.
This time, they thought they had their chance. They had even sent four thousand men to war. Two of Lord Walder's sons had died in the fighting. Yet Robb Stark, true to his word, broke the betrothal.
Although he allowed his uncle Edmure to marry in his stead, Lord Walder held the Tullys in contempt.
More importantly, Robb's actions had cost House Frey its honor. And with Riverrun already fallen to Theon, the insult was too great to ignore.
To be blunt, Robb Stark was losing the war, even if it looked as though he had bested Tywin on the battlefield.
The truth was, Tywin's strength had not been broken. Pinned at Riverrun, he dared not strike at Golden Tooth. Robb could not win the war by merely plundering grain from the Riverlands.
Once finished, Theon handed the letter to his maester and ordered him to have the ravens prepared for flight.
—————————
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and wish to support me, you can visit my P-@-t-r-3-0-n, where you can read 50+ extra chapters ahead!
Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! 💙😊
P-@-T -r-3-0-n [.] com / DylanBriak