The news that the Iron Islands had dispatched twenty longships and two thousand elite warriors to conquer the Stepstones spread across the Seven Kingdoms as swiftly as the sea breeze.
From Winterfell in the North to Sunspear in Dorne, from the Red Keep in King's Landing to the Citadel in Oldtown, nobles and smallfolk alike were discussing this audacious military campaign.
At the same time, House Redwyne received Euron's formal invitation to join the expedition. This was the collaboration Euron had discussed with Lady Olenna Redwyne during the Tourney at Harrenhal.
The Redwyne fleet had been nearly annihilated during the Battle of the Gullet years ago. Though they had spent years rebuilding, they were far from recovering their former glory and strength—a fact Euron knew well. He didn't view House Redwyne's participation as critical to the campaign's success; it was more of a political gesture. Furthermore, the old grudges between the two houses hadn't vanished. The blood spilled at the Gullet and the trade disputes accumulated over the years made true coordinated warfare nearly impossible.
The Redwynes joining was just icing on the cake. The real conquest would be won by Ironborn steel and blood.
Upon receiving Euron's raven, Olenna Redwyne immediately summoned her brother, Lord Adrian Redwyne. The study in the Arbor smelled of ink and sea salt as she placed the secret missive gently on the wooden table.
"Did you get the news?" Olenna's voice was as smooth as silk, yet carried an undeniable weight. "The Iron Fleet has already set sail."
Adrian frowned. "Sister, surely you don't intend to actually cooperate with that little kraken? The Greyjoys have always been treacherous—"
"The Stepstones," Olenna interrupted him, her finger tracing lightly across the unrolled nautical chart. "Located in the center of the Narrow Sea, the unavoidable passage connecting Westeros and Essos." Her fingertip moved past King's Landing and Gulltown, then slid toward Lys, Tyrosh, and Slaver's Bay. "Whether it's the export of wine, wool, and iron, or the import of spices and silk from the East, everything must pass through these waters."
Her eyes gleamed with shrewdness. "Levying high tolls on passing merchant ships means a massive, stable, and continuous income. More importantly, we would gain pricing power and priority trading rights for luxury goods like spices and silk, engaging directly in the most profitable part of the trade."
Olenna's finger tapped emphatically on the location of Bloodstone. "Developing the cinnabar mines on the island and the surrounding fisheries, turning it into an intelligence hub and strategic pivot connecting East and West—its value far exceeds mere economic profit." She looked up, staring at her brother. "What does occupying that place mean? It means House Redwyne will regain its former glory. Tell me, dear brother, what reason do we have to refuse this opportunity?"
Lord Adrian Redwyne's fingers unconsciously tightened around his wine cup, his knuckles turning white. "Don't forget, the flames of the Arbor haven't fully extinguished! The humiliation of them burning, killing, and looting in our harbor..."
"Who was right and who was wrong back then has already drifted away with the currents," Olenna's voice suddenly sharpened like a thorn. "Is there any use in dwelling on old ledgers?" She stood up, her skirt sweeping a decisive arc behind her. "Don't act like a weeping little girl, Adrian. In the face of sufficient profit, any hatred can be set aside."
Adrian gulped down a mouthful of wine, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But it just doesn't sit right with me! And the men in my fleet won't accept it either—how many of their brothers died under Ironborn axes? Now you want them to fight side-by-side with those murderers..." He stopped abruptly, shaking his head in pain.
Outside the window, the setting sun dyed the sea around the Arbor blood-red, as if the unhealed wounds were still throbbing.
Olenna Redwyne tapped her fingertips lightly on the table, a shrewd smile playing on her lips. "The Stepstones are vast, the waters wide, and the islands scattered. Who says you have to join forces in one place?" Her gaze was as sharp as a falcon's. "He fights his battles, you fight yours. Separate fronts, no interference. Wouldn't that solve it?"
The tension in Adrian's face finally relaxed a little, and he nodded slightly. "If it's arranged like that... then that's acceptable."
However, Olenna's tone shifted immediately, her voice carrying a non-negotiable finality. "But, you will provide a portion of their food supplies." Before Adrian could object, she cut him off. "Don't give me that look. Whatever ships or men you send, they are the main force. They are killing and dying on the front lines. Since we are committing fewer men, we need to exchange logistical support from the rear for our share of the future profits. No matter how you calculate it, this deal is not a loss."
The afterglow of the sunset stretched Olenna's shadow long across the floor. She lifted her goblet, gently swirling the deep red wine, as if she could already see the map of House Redwyne's profits in the Stepstones.
---
In the study of Sunspear, the hot desert wind blew gently through the carved window lattice.
Prince Doran, Princess Elia, Princess Arianne, and Prince Oberyn sat around an ebony table inlaid with copper, reviewing the latest intelligence.
Prince Doran's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair, a hint of approval in his eyes. "The little kraken moves swiftly. He's already started."
Arianne gave a light hmph, though a faint smile played on her lips. "He keeps his word, at least. He hasn't disappointed us."
Oberyn toyed with his spear, a warlike light shining in his eyes. "He knows how to play the game. Acting openly under the banner of revenge—it's a beautiful move."
Elia interjected softly, "Don't we have some assets in the Stepstones as well? Should we activate them this time?"
Arianne immediately shot her a teasing look. "What, starting to worry about your little kraken already?"
Elia gave her a sideways glance, her tone calm but firm. "At least at this stage, he genuinely wants to cooperate with Dorne. And it is also for..." She touched her slightly rounded belly. "The future!"
Prince Doran sighed and waved his hand gently, making the decision. "Oberyn, go arrange it. Take this opportunity to mobilize our forces there and sweep away those pirates who might get in the way."
Oberyn's lips curled into a bloodthirsty smile. He grabbed his spear and strode out. The sunlight cast a long shadow behind him, as if foreshadowing the coming storm of blood in the Stepstones.
---
The Basilisk Isles
The salty sea breeze, thick with the scent of rum and crashing waves, surged into the hall.
Pirate Captain Edwin Ramirez leaned against a rough wooden table, his thumb and forefinger habitually twisting the ends of his trademark upturned mustache. His deep black eyes narrowed into two crescents, revealing a playful smile.
"Heh heh," his voice was raspy like sandpaper. "Our noble friend has written. He's sent us a... special invitation."
"Long-Legged" Lomas took the letter sealed with the kraken wax, scanning the contents quickly before a faint smile touched his lips. "The Stepstones? A familiar and lively place. So... what do you intend to do?"
Edwin stood up and began to pace the hall, his boot heels clicking rhythmically on the wooden planks. "When have you ever seen me refuse an invitation from a friend?" He stopped suddenly, the fanatical light unique to pirates erupting in his eyes. He spread his arms wide and laughed maniacally. "Besides, isn't this a magnificent adventure?"
He leaped onto a wine barrel and shouted to the hall full of pirates. "Brothers! I'm sure you're all sick of these Basilisk Isles by now! Is there anyone willing to follow me to new waters and start an adventure that will go down in history?"
Deafening cheers nearly lifted the roof, accompanied by the clashing of cups and swords.
Amidst the boiling noise, Edwin's mustache twitched triumphantly, as if he could already see the splendid journey about to begin.