In the Braavosi mansion, Arthur stared blankly at a letter in his hand.
Before Zaren crossed the Narrow Sea, Arthur and Zaren had discussed how to fight this island war.
At that time, Arthur had asked a seemingly unrelated question: "Do you know how King Robert Baratheon forced Balon Greyjoy to bend the knee?"
"My uncle told me about it," Zaren replied. "He said King Robert personally led the siege of Pyke, fighting like a true king."
"Thoros of Myr was the first over the wall, and Jorah Mormont, Lord of Bear Island, was the second." Zaren recounted what he knew as if listing family treasures.
"King Robert gave them generous rewards. My uncle said the reward was worth five large salvaged ships."
Arthur: "And before that?"
Zaren looked blank. "Before?"
"Stannis Baratheon led the Royal Fleet and the Redwyne Fleet to crush the Iron Fleet of the Iron Islands." Arthur unfolded a rough map of the Bite.
"People love to sing about individual acts of heroism, but they often overlook the key factors."
Arthur: "I remember when you first came to Braavos, you asked why there were no city walls, only hundreds of islands."
Zaren murmured in realization, "Braavos relies not on walls; its ships are its walls."
Arthur nodded. "The key is ships. This war is the same. The key is how to crush the pirates, not how to assault the castles on the islands."
Zaren: "But pirates are cunning. Rumor has it they use medium galleys—fast ships that ordinary vessels can't catch."
"Since we can't match their speed, we must be more cunning." Arthur rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking for a moment.
"When you return to Sweetsister, spread the word. Reward the soldiers who answer the call generously—silver, supplies, spare no expense. I will bear the cost of these supplies."
"My Lord, on behalf of the Three Sisters, I thank you for your generosity. I can never repay your kindness." Zaren stood up and bowed solemnly, sincerity written on his face.
"But smallfolk have a duty to answer their lord's call. We don't need to do this."
Arthur waved his hand slightly, signaling Zaren to sit and listen. "When attacking Pebble, take all the mobilized warriors with you, and find a way to spread the news."
Zaren: "If we do that, what if the pirates flee, or attack Sweetsister instead?"
"That is my goal." Arthur took out a letter and gestured for Zaren to read it.
"If they disembark to raid the island, that is when we crush them."
"White Harbor will help us?" After reading the letter, Zaren's eyes were filled with doubt. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind before he shook his head. "No, they won't help us."
"Even you don't believe White Harbor will help. Imagine how unlikely the pirates will think it is." Arthur winked at Zaren, putting on a confident front.
"If you don't trust them, if you don't trust White Harbor, then trust me!"
---
Returning to the present, Arthur looked at the letter again. Although he had spoken with absolute certainty to Zaren, he felt a bit hollow inside.
This reply from White Harbor—Arthur recognized the elegant handwriting as Wynafryd Manderly's.
In his heart, he thought Wynafryd persuading White Harbor to send a letter to King's Landing to help manufacture a claim was already a huge favor.
Let alone asking them to join a war that wasn't theirs.
If the Three Sisters truly rose to power and controlled the Bite, White Harbor, which relied on the Bite for access to the sea, would inevitably be affected. Not interfering would have been generous enough; actively helping with such force was unexpected.
Moreover, the letter mentioned no conditions, only discussing the timing of the attack and signal details.
Actually, Arthur had never quite understood why Wynafryd helped him so much, even to the point of harming White Harbor's interests.
Even more puzzling was how she convinced her grandfather, Lord Wyman Manderly. Mobilizing White Harbor's army and fleet was impossible without Lord Lamprey's approval.
But thinking back, he hadn't offended the grandfather or granddaughter during his stay in White Harbor. They had no reason to harm him.
Arthur subconsciously rubbed the mermaid pendant around his neck. If this succeeded, the debt he owed White Harbor would be massive.
---
White Harbor, The Manderly Family Dining Room
It wasn't mealtime yet, but Lord Wyman Manderly's massive figure was already seated. Knife and fork in hand, he was happily attacking his favorite lamprey pie.
Wynafryd walked into the dining room. "Grandfather, you sent for me?"
"Come sit here, Wynafryd, my granddaughter." Wyman beckoned her to sit beside him. "I want to talk to you."
Wynafryd looked slightly weary. "Grandfather, I have things to do. Can we talk during the meal later?"
Lord Lamprey pretended to be annoyed, his four chins and body fat jiggling.
"What? That Snow boy far away in Braavos can take up most of your time, but your grandfather can't even have a chat?"
"Of course not." Wynafryd sat down helplessly, knowing her grandfather's anger was feigned.
Seeing his granddaughter seated, Wyman's annoyance vanished. "Do you know why I agreed to send troops to help the Sistermen?"
Wynafryd used the argument she had used to persuade him earlier. "Arthur kept his promise even to a pirate lord. If we help him, surely he will repay White Harbor's kindness in the future."
"Not just that. You ran off as soon as you heard me agree; I didn't even get to finish." Wyman glared at his granddaughter playfully.
His granddaughter was perfect in every way, except when it came to that Snow boy—she always lost her composure.
It reminded him of his younger self. Back when he was a squire, he would stutter nervously around the girl he liked and do foolish things to attract her attention.
"Ahem..." Realizing he was wandering, Wyman coughed to cover it up and looked at his granddaughter again.
"Remember when I took you to Winterfell two years ago? For your betrothal to Robb Stark. Although that didn't work out, it wasn't fruitless."
"It told me that Lady Catelyn, and even Lord Eddard, have no intention of marrying their children to their bannermen. But the Starks aren't Targaryens; they can't marry brother to sister. Their eyes... are on the South."
"And the last Stark Lord who focused so much on the South was Lord Rickard Stark."
Wynafryd frowned. "Arthur's grandfather? The Lord Rickard Stark burned alive by the Mad King with wildfire?"
"Lord Rickard was a stern and just man. Lord Rickard Karstark is named after him." Wyman continued eating as he recounted the past.
"They say he was wearing his armor when the Mad King burned him. In the end, the armor was cherry-red, and the flesh had fused with the steel.
"And his son, Brandon Stark, strangled himself trying to save him while watching the tragedy unfold."
"You mean, Lord Eddard might repeat the same mistake?" Wynafryd asked thoughtfully. "A crisis might befall the North in the future?"
"The North has the natural barrier of Moat Cailin and could have remained isolated. But getting involved in southern affairs, whether as allies or enemies, means being dragged in." Wyman shook his head continuously.
"If they win, fine. But if they fail... although the possibility is slim, who can say for sure in the game of thrones?"
"There were rumors before that Lady Barbrey Dustin intended to foster Arthur Snow. Now that I think about it, Brandon Stark's blood runs in his veins." Wyman put down his knife and fork.
"Wynafryd, my dear granddaughter. I agreed to send troops not because of the qualities you say Arthur Snow possesses, but for the future of House Manderly."
"Helping Arthur Snow now costs us little, but it acts as insurance for an uncertain future. I will never allow House Manderly to be exiled again, to walk the path of refugees."
"Never!"
Wynafryd: "Grandfather, I..."
Wyman waved his hand to stop her, his expression incredibly solemn.
"Your father and uncle are simple-minded."
"As the future Lady of House Manderly, I hope your judgments are based not on emotion, but on the interests of the House."
"You are a woman. In ruling, you have an inherent disadvantage compared to men. Sometimes, you must learn to compromise, to make trade-offs."
"In this regard, you should learn from Lady Dustin."
"Yes... Grandfather..." Wynafryd responded palely, then asked in confusion, "Lady Dustin?"
"Since Lord Dustin died, Lady Dustin has ruled Barrowton for years as his widow. do you really think she doesn't want to remarry?" Wyman lowered his head and resumed his happy assault on the lamprey pie.
"But if she remarried and had children, losing her status as Dustin's widow, how would the other Dustins—those cousins with ambitions for the lordship—view her? Would they still obey her so readily?"