The coastline of the Iron Islands had never been this noisy.
Under Euron Greyjoy's direction, a new shipyard of unprecedented scale had risen from the ground.
The Iron Islands consisted of thirty-one islands, but only seven main islands were inhabited: Pyke, Great Wyk, Old Wyk, Harlaw, Saltcliffe, Blacktyde, and Orkmont. There was also Lonely Light, but it was so far from the main cluster that it was often ignored, along with the thirteen smaller islets surrounding it.
The remaining ten small islands were mostly uninhabited or used for grazing sheep.
In recent years, Euron had successively developed Iron Smoke Island for forging weapons and armor, and Iron Fragrance Island for brewing wine. Most recently, he had claimed a barren island specifically for shipbuilding, naming it Iron Ship Island.
Massive logs were shipped from the North, and smithies worked day and night to produce specialized iron nails and metal components. The air was thick with the scent of fresh timber, the pungent smell of tar, and the mix of sweat and sea breeze from the workers.
What was being built here were no longer the slender, fast longships of the past used for raiding, but warships truly designed to conquer the ocean—ships with larger hulls, stronger structures, capable of carrying more warriors and heavy ballistae.
In the newly cleared, hidden drydock at Pyke, the noise was ceaseless. This was a great project destined to change the fate of the Iron Islands—building a colossal ship capable of dominating the Narrow Sea and even more distant waters, on a scale far exceeding the longships used by generations of Ironborn.
Building such a leviathan was a massive and precise process. First came the crucial keel.
It wasn't a single log, but composed of several century-old trees from the bitter cold North, tightly connected by complex mortise joints and reinforced iron fittings. Its length was staggering, forming the spine of the giant ship.
Upon this foundation, craftsmen followed meticulously designed blueprints to fix sturdy oak ribs—steamed and bent into shape—like the skeleton of a giant beast, outlining the massive hull and the fluid lines that would soon cleave the waves.
Countless thick oak planks were precisely fitted onto the ribs by skilled shipwrights using mallets and chisels. Layer upon layer, they used overlapping clinker construction to enhance the hull's strength.
The gaps between planks were firmly caulked with hemp soaked in tar, and the entire exterior hull was repeatedly coated with a mixture of hot pitch and tar, forming a tough waterproof layer against seawater erosion and shipworms.
The multi-deck structure began to emerge. The sturdy main deck, forecastle, and aftcastle were erected. The interior was divided into massive cargo holds, water storage, crew quarters, and cabins.
The aftcastle was designed to be exceptionally tall, providing not only a superior command view but also ample interior space for a commander like Euron to plan strategy.
Giant masts, requiring dozens of men to encircle, were painstakingly raised by capstans and manpower, deeply embedded into reinforced bases. Made of the finest pine, they were tall enough to pierce the clouds. Craftsmen rigged them with a complex system of ropes, pulleys, and yards, crisscrossing like the nerves and muscles of the giant ship. Enormous linen sails were hoisted, treated with special oils to increase toughness and water resistance. Their area was vast enough to catch the slightest breeze to drive this floating fortress.
On both sides of the hull, gun ports were opened one by one, and heavy scorpions were fixed in place. These weapons would provide powerful ranged firepower. The prow was undergoing its final carving, soon to be shaped into a roaring kraken or some terrifying symbol of the Ironborn. Finally, massive iron anchors were brought aboard. Everything was ready.
As the silhouette of the giant ship became clearer day by day, its massive shadow cast on the sea made every Ironborn who saw it shudder with a mix of pride and awe.
This was no longer a speedboat for raiding, but a sea monster born for conquest and distant voyages. The future of the Iron Islands lay in the ocean, and the ocean would belong to the fleet that possessed such titans.
This ship, taking shape in the secret drydock of Pyke, had a size far beyond the comprehension of any Ironborn. Even King Quellon's flagship, the Ironborn, which had once terrified the coastlines, looked like a toddler beside a giant when compared to this new leviathan—it was more than five times the size.
It would not only be the largest ship in the history of the Iron Islands, but even looking across the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, or the prosperous Free Cities across the Narrow Sea, no one had built a warship of this scale.
Initially, King Quellon was quite dismissive of Euron's ambitious plan.
In his traditional view of naval warfare, the Ironborn advantage lay in the speed and agility of the longships—striking like a pack of wolves and vanishing quickly into the mist and reefs.
"Why make the ship so big?" he had said coldly to Euron, standing on the slipway before the keel was laid. "The target is too large, turning is clumsy. It's a sitting duck in the reefs. We Ironborn rely on steel and courage, not piling up wood."
He couldn't understand the strategic concept in Euron's mind that transcended the era. King Quellon had never seen the terrifying existence known as an "Aircraft Carrier"—a vessel that didn't rely on traditional ramming or boarding, but whose mere massive presence and infinite possibilities cast an unshakable shadow of fear in the enemy's heart, creating unparalleled strategic deterrence.
What Euron pursued was exactly that: This giant ship was a mobile sea fortress and a declaration. Its very appearance was a display of power, enough to rewrite the rules of naval warfare and redefine the Iron Islands' place in the world.
In the Iron Islands, building a standard longship capable of carrying fifty to a hundred warriors was an instinct in the blood. A hull of twenty to thirty meters required only a dozen skilled craftsmen, two to four months, and about 1,500 gold dragons to launch.
Even King Quellon's flagship, the Invincible Ironborn, took only half a year and cost less than 3,000 gold dragons to become the pride of the Ironborn. However, the scale of the giant ship project Euron insisted on was shocking.
This massive undertaking consumed nearly a year and mobilized over three hundred of the most skilled shipwrights from across the Iron Islands, working day and night. Gold dragons flowed like water into timber, iron, tar, and rigging, with the final cost approaching 30,000 gold dragons—and that didn't even account for the massive labor cost.
When this unprecedented sea monster finally completed all procedures and, guided by rolling logs and accompanied by a deafening roar and splashing waves, slowly slid into the sea, the entire shipyard fell into a brief, deathly silence.
King Quellon stood on the dock, his beard and hair soaked by the mist, but he didn't notice.
He simply tilted his head back, looking up at the towering hull that resembled a moving castle, the dense rows of firing ports, and the masts thick enough to require several men to embrace. The roaring kraken carved on the prow looked ready to devour men whole. Its shadow covered nearly half the dock. In this moment, all of Quellon's past doubts and disdain—about agility, tradition, and the shocking cost—were shattered by the sheer, overwhelming physical impact.
He suddenly understood the power of the word his son had used—Deterrence!
The mindset of the King of the Iron Islands shifted with astonishing speed.
From initial scorn, thinking it would be a clumsy, useless waste; to the shock of seeing it, feeling that every gold dragon had turned into an indestructible scale on this beast; to uncontrollable curiosity, personally boarding the ship and living on it for a two-day inspection. A surging passion completely replaced all doubts.
On the morning of the third day, he summoned all his old subordinates who had followed the Invincible Ironborn in countless battles, along with a large group of young Ironborn who had come running, eyes burning with envy. He directly ordered: Set Sail.
This giant ship, named "The Wrath of the Grey King" (often referred to simply as "The Wrath" or by Euron as "Silence" in his own mind) by King Quellon, made its maiden voyage not to a battlefield, but on a parade around the Iron Islands. Like a moving black mountain, it sailed slowly and unstoppably past Pyke, Great Wyk, Old Wyk, Harlaw... past the bays and harbors of every major island.
King Quellon stood proudly atop the terrifying figurehead, his cloak billowing in the wind.
He wasn't showing off wealth. He was displaying a brand-new power capable of crushing the old era. He wanted every Ironborn—fisherman, warrior, or lord—to open their eyes and see clearly what kind of astonishing, future-rewriting monster his son, Euron Greyjoy, had brought to the Iron Islands.