On the table, several pieces of parchment brought by ravens were scattered haphazardly, recording news from King's Landing in Maester Qalen's neat handwriting. Some were years old, others recent. Euron slowly organized the intelligence by timeline.
Defiance of Duskendale (277 AC): Aerys II imprisoned. Barristan Selmy rescues the king single-handedly. King released, but his mind is shattered.
Follow-up: The Mad King (euphemistically referred to as "His Grace is unsettled" in the Maester's report) grows deeply suspicious of Tywin Lannister's loyalty, believing the delay in rescue was intentional. The rift begins.
Addendum: To counter "omnipresent conspiracies and betrayals," Aerys II recruits a eunuch named Varys from Lys across the Narrow Sea, appointing him Master of Whisperers. This man, secretive and nicknamed "The Spider," begins weaving a vast intelligence web covering the court and the Seven Kingdoms, gaining the Mad King's deep trust.
Latest (279 AC): The Mad King rejects Tywin's proposal to wed Prince Rhaegar to Cersei Lannister, instead announcing the Prince's betrothal to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. He publicly mocks Tywin as a "servant" in court, humiliating him to the extreme.
"History... has not changed. Good news!" Euron whispered soundlessly, tracing "Aerys II" on the parchment. The shadow of Duskendale had already enveloped the Dragon King, and the insult of the refused marriage had arrived on schedule. Tywin Lannister, the Lion of the West with immense power, must be filled with cold venom by now.
270 AC: Euron Greyjoy born.
277 AC: Defiance of Duskendale. Mad King imprisoned, rescued. Rift with Tywin begins.
279 AC: Mad King rejects Cersei/Rhaegar match, betroths Rhaegar to Elia Martell. Insults Tywin. Rift deepens.
281 AC: Mad King names Jaime to Kingsguard, stripping Tywin of his heir. Rift irreparable.
282 AC: Rhaegar "abducts" Lyanna Stark. Mad King executes Rickard and Brandon Stark. Robert's Rebellion begins!
283 AC: Battle of the Trident (Rhaegar dies). Mad King plots to burn the city. Jaime kills the King. Robert crowned.
Euron wrote the information on the parchment, tapping his finger on 283 AC. Standing behind him, Lysa looked curiously at the strange characters.
"275 AC to 283 AC... Eight years. Eight years left..." Euron murmured, the anxiety and excitement of an adult ambition beating in his small chest. Robert's Rebellion! Westeros would plunge into unprecedented chaos! This was the god-given chance for the Iron Islands to break their chains of poverty and make the Drowned God's name ring across the Seven Kingdoms! But the prerequisite was that the Iron Islands must have enough strength to seize this opportunity, rather than capsize in the storm.
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His problem now: How to use these eight golden years (275-282 AC) to maximize the Iron Islands' power?
Charles Kettering once said: A problem well-stated is a problem half-solved. Euron sighed, analyzing the current state of the Iron Islands and listing the issues on the parchment.
What the Iron Islands Have:
Strong Naval Tradition & Culture: Drowned God worship, "Old Way" spirit. Reaving culture is deep-rooted; warriors (Ironborn) are brave, ruthless, and fearless of death. Faith gives reaving sanctity.
Mastery of the Sea: Generations of sailors and navigators familiar with the Narrow Sea and Sunset Sea. Expert in rough waters.
Longship Fleet: Fast, shallow draft, highly mobile. Can penetrate shallow waters and rivers deep inland.
Geographical Isolation: Located in the sea west of the continent, surrounded by treacherous waters. Hard to attack, high cost of invasion, and invaders gain nothing but rocks and salt. Historically, no successful external invasions.
Natural Defense: Surrounded by reefs, forming a natural barrier. Strangers easily wreck.
Natural Resources: Only three—Iron, Salt, Fish. (Iron ore on Great Wyk is crucial for weapons/trade; Salt is a trade good; Fish is basic food).
Martial Society: Men universally trained for combat. Fierce folkways, lethal in boarding actions and melee. Fearless of death due to faith.
What the Iron Islands Lack (The Headache):
Arable Land: Rocky, barren, harsh climate. 90% of grain relies on import or plunder. Conclusion: No food. What do we eat?
Forest Resources: Lack of quality timber limits shipbuilding. Dependent on import or plunder. Conclusion: No wood. How do we build ships?
Smithing: Plenty of iron ore, but lack of skilled smiths to turn ore into quality arms and armor.
Population: Far fewer people than any mainland kingdom. Limited manpower prevents large-scale land wars or long-term occupation. Cannot sustain attrition.
Internal Unity: Loose confederation of islands/houses (Greyjoy, Goodbrother, Harlaw, Drumm, etc.). Though nominally loyal to the "Lord Reaper," internal rivalry is fierce. The "Old Way" emphasizes individual glory, leading to low cohesion. Conclusion: Not united!
Administration: Loose distribution of islands means no efficient tax, logistics, or bureaucratic system. Conclusion: Disorganized.
Intelligence: Isolated location means weak ability to gather core mainland intel (court politics, troop movements). Ironborn are often ignored or receive info late. Conclusion: Information lag, cannot seize initiative.
The fire crackled in the hearth, reflecting in Euron's pensive, mismatched eyes. Finally, the most critical issue: Everything required the approval of the King of the Iron Islands, his father. Persuading Quellon Greyjoy was the biggest hurdle.
Quellon Greyjoy, the ruler of these islands, had a vision that wasn't without merit. The Iron Islands did need to change, to escape the bone-deep poverty and isolation. His goal—integrate into the Seven Kingdoms, end the bloody "Old Way," embrace peace and prosperity—sounded bright and correct.
However, the problem was that Quellon wanted to reach heaven in a single step.
"Free all thralls on the islands?" Euron sighed soundlessly, tapping the cold stone table. The idea shone with merciful light, but reality was a cruel reef. The mines of Great Wyk, the salt pans of Saltcliffe... the hard labor sustaining the islands' fragile lifeline rested almost entirely on thralls. Free them, and who swings the heavy pickaxes? Who bakes in the salt fields? Did his father expect Ironborn lords, used to "paying the iron price" and steering longships, to roll up their sleeves and mine salt? The economy would collapse instantly, more thoroughly than any storm could destroy it.
"Abandon the Old Way completely?" This cut the root. Euron admitted the Old Way was barbaric and unsustainable, a root of their poverty. But his father seemed to forget, or underestimate, what "paying the iron price" meant to most families. It wasn't just survival; it was honor and faith. Cutting this economic umbilical cord, which had sustained them for thousands of years, would drain 80% of the Iron Islands' blood. Where would the anger of captains and sailors, stripped of targets and income, go? Not to Lannister gold mines, but to Pyke itself.
"Invite Septons? Spread the Faith of the Seven?" Euron had no faith—or rather, he believed in whatever god paid best. But the Drowned God had rooted here for thousands of years! It shaped their souls, their words, their lives, their deaths. Did his father think a few septons in silk robes reading the Seven-Pointed Star could make Drowned Men, who baptized infants in freezing seawater, bow their heads? Could they make reavers pray to the Mother? It was a fantasy! And even if they converted, so what? The mainland's deep-seated prejudice would see it as a hypocritical performance, a pirate's clumsy disguise. Lords of the Reach or the North wouldn't hug Ironborn as brothers just because they built a sept. They'd just be more wary of "squids in sheep's clothing."
"Open the ports." This was one of the few truly wise points in his father's plan. They needed contact, trade flow. Yet, prejudice was a mountain higher and colder than Blacktyde! On every merchant's map, "Iron Islands" was marked "Pirate Den," "Danger," "No Return." Even if Quellon opened ports and built lighthouses, what merchant would bet his life and cargo on Ironborn "goodwill"? Who trusted that the scarred men on the docks wouldn't pull an axe? Without trust, the best port is just empty moorings listening to the waves.
His father was too hasty. He saw the alluring light at the finish line but ignored the thorns and undercurrents on the path. He tried to smash thousand-year shackles with a hammer, not realizing the impact might shatter the rock he stood on. Reform required patience, surgical precision, the wisdom of boiling a frog.
Euron gazed at the gloomy sea outside. True change should be like the tide eroding a reef—slow but inevitable. Not flipping the ship, but adjusting the sails degree by degree, replacing rotten keel wood carefully, opening new tributaries patiently.
It needed time. It needed strategy. It needed to prove, step by step, that the new path brought more "Salt and Iron" than the Old Way. It needed visible benefits and superior force to persuade, divide, and ultimately replace the stubborn reefs.
Quellon wanted to jump to the end. Euron saw a long campaign that must be paved with care. The dilapidated ship of the Iron Islands didn't need a capsizing storm; it needed a master navigator who knew how to use the tides and winds to guide it gingerly off the shoals of the "Old Way."