"In my opinion, this isn't merely a concern."
Karl leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table.
"When Robert Baratheon overthrew the Targaryen dynasty, Balon Greyjoy still dared to launch a rebellion. Tell me, Tyrion—how is the current situation any different?"
His gaze sharpened.
"You remember the burning of Lannisport, don't you?"
The moment Balon Greyjoy's name was mentioned, Tyrion's expression became serious.
Although Karl's prediction was only speculation, it was difficult to dismiss entirely.
After all, the Ironborn had never been known for their patience.
"Of course I remember," Tyrion replied.
"I was sixteen years old at the time."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Back then, I dreamed of traveling across the Free Cities like my uncles. Unfortunately, my father considered the idea beneath House Lannister's dignity."
Tyrion laughed bitterly.
"Instead of seeing the world, I was ordered to inspect every sewer and drainage tunnel beneath Casterly Rock."
The memory was amusing now, but at the time it had felt like a punishment.
His smile faded as his thoughts returned to the Iron Islands.
"In that war, Balon Greyjoy lost two sons."
"His eldest, Rodrik, died."
"His second son, Maron, died as well."
"As for his youngest surviving son, Theon, he was taken hostage by Lord Eddard Stark and raised at Winterfell."
Tyrion paused.
"After suffering losses like that, one would assume Balon had learned caution."
Yet even as he spoke, he sounded uncertain.
He remembered the young Greyjoy he had met in Winterfell.
Theon hardly seemed like a hostage capable of restraining his father.
If Balon truly wished to rebel again, Tyrion doubted the boy would stop him.
The realization darkened his expression.
Karl immediately noticed.
He knew Tyrion had arrived at the same conclusion.
The young king glanced at the pile of letters scattered across the table.
"That's why I'm wondering if there's a way to test him."
A faint smile appeared on Karl's face.
"If he chooses to expose himself voluntarily, it would save us a great deal of trouble."
Tyrion twitched at the corner of his mouth.
The way Karl said it made it sound as though he were setting bait for a fish.
Or perhaps laying a trap for a rat.
Either way, it was hardly reassuring.
"Our current strength is limited," Tyrion said carefully.
"I'm not convinced provoking another potential enemy is wise."
Karl remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"The situation is already complicated."
"House Tyrell has chosen to support Renly Baratheon, granting him ambitions he never should have possessed."
"Meanwhile, Stannis Baratheon refuses to acknowledge your claim to the throne."
"Under these circumstances, the Baratheon family is divided against itself."
Tyrion folded his arms.
"The Westerlands are still recovering from war."
"The Riverlands have been devastated."
"If chaos spreads further, neither the Vale nor the North can be relied upon to provide immediate support."
The more he spoke, the worse the situation sounded.
By the end of his analysis, even Tyrion himself felt uneasy.
After a moment of silence, he sighed.
"Karl, perhaps you're right."
"We should keep an eye on the Iron Islands as well."
Karl nodded.
"At least we agree on that much."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"My greatest problem is still the fleet."
"Money isn't the issue."
"I can acquire gold whenever necessary."
"But ships?"
He shook his head.
"Building a navy from nothing takes years."
"Five years. Maybe six."
"And unfortunately, time is the one thing I don't possess."
His eyes narrowed.
"Especially when my dear uncle Stannis—the realm's finest naval commander—has decided to stand against me."
The room fell silent.
Tyrion scratched his head.
Neither man had a good solution.
After several minutes, Tyrion finally spoke again.
"Karl…"
He hesitated.
Then he took a deep breath.
"If you're uncertain…"
Karl raised an eyebrow.
"If I'm uncertain?"
Tyrion nodded.
"Perhaps you should abandon your claim."
The words came out awkwardly.
Even he disliked saying them.
Karl simply stared at him.
Or perhaps because Tyrion knew exactly how much courage it had taken to build everything Karl possessed today.
Yet he continued.
"At the very least, postpone it."
"Delay the conflict."
"Preserve your claim for the future."
Karl remained silent.
Seeing no reaction, Tyrion pressed forward.
"Stannis has only one heir."
"Princess Shireen suffers from greyscale."
"Her future is uncertain."
"As for Renly…"
A knowing expression crossed his face.
"We both understand Renly's situation."
He spread his hands.
"If we wait a few years, circumstances may resolve themselves."
"Meanwhile, Stannis and Renly will continue weakening one another."
"For us, patience may be the safest strategy."
For a long moment, Karl said nothing.
Finally, he spoke.
"So your advice is to surrender both my sword and my mercy into someone else's hands?"
"Of course not," Tyrion replied quickly.
"I'm simply suggesting that waiting carries the least risk."
"If another war begins now, we lack the strength to fight multiple enemies."
"Our army numbers only a few thousand men."
"Most are recently absorbed Westerlands soldiers."
"The supply lines aren't fully organized."
"The command structure remains unstable."
"If conflict erupts now, everything could collapse."
Tyrion's voice grew increasingly earnest.
"You need to determine what matters most."
"Right now, survival should come before ambition."
Karl listened quietly.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
"Tyrion."
"Do you remember the motto of House Karl?"
The dwarf frowned.
"Of course."
Karl stood.
Slowly, he recited the words.
"Thought."
"Sword."
"Truth."
Each word carried unusual weight.
Walking toward the window, he gazed out across the sea.
Tyrion followed.
Outside, Robert—the young dragon—soared above the waves.
The creature had grown enormously.
Now nearly the size of an ox, the dragon suddenly plunged toward the water.
A massive fish disappeared into its jaws.
Moments later, dragonfire erupted.
The unfortunate fish was roasted instantly before being tossed into the air and devoured.
Karl watched with satisfaction.
"Thought guides the sword."
"The sword wins truth."
"And truth shapes thought."
His voice remained calm.
"I have never considered myself merely Karl Baratheon."
Tyrion frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I've always intended to rely on myself."
Karl's eyes remained fixed on the dragon.
"I don't lack courage."
"If enemies come, I'll face them."
"If obstacles appear, I'll overcome them."
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"Renly wishes to wage war against me."
"Stannis refuses to acknowledge me."
"In that case…"
"Why should I refuse the challenge?"
The sunlight reflected in his eyes.
For the first time, Tyrion truly saw the fire burning within the young king.
It wasn't recklessness.
It was conviction.
Karl turned around.
"What if I eliminate Renly first?"
"What if I crush House Tyrell's ambitions before they fully mature?"
"Would our future problems still be as severe as they are now?"
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