On the docks, the garrison and officials of the Arbor, having already received word, waited in formation. They carried an air of wariness but maintained the necessary etiquette.
Baskets of fresh bread, barrels of clean water, and various local cured meats and dried fruits began to be loaded onto the ships—these were the agreed-upon supplies.
In the rippling harbor of the Arbor, the massive fleet of the Iron Islands was now moored. The scene was harmonious, as if the bloody past had never happened.
Five years ago, Greyjoy longships had docked here not for supplies, but to launch a war.
The memory of that great battle was still etched into the bones of the veterans who had survived it. The Iron Islands had won an undisputed victory. The banners of House Redwyne were torn down, father and son became prisoners, the gold dragons in the vaults were looted clean, and even the grapevines symbolizing the family's glory and livelihood were uprooted, leaving behind only scorched earth.
Euron Greyjoy understood that pure plunder was far inferior to sustainable exploitation. He never minded giving a slice of the pie to these former enemies when it was profitable.
The turning point in their relationship occurred in the Stepstones.
When shared interests were placed before them, former enemies fought side by side. After the smoke cleared, that deep-seated grudge seemed to fade, at least on the surface. But Euron knew well that this did not stem from time's healing or the other side's forgiveness, but from his invincible fleet capable of crushing any thought of revenge, and the dominion his sea king beasts held over the ocean.
Later, the decision to co-found the bank broke the ice between the two sides. Gold Dragons and contracts bound them tightly together, turning them from enemies into partners with intertwined interests.
"If you can't beat them, join them!"
Lord Adrian Redwyne gradually understood the decision his sister, Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, had made. The supplies on the dock, purchased at base price from Highgarden, were the most direct proof of this brand-new relationship.
With the arrival of the Iron Islands fleet, the Arbor presented a lively scene quite different from usual.
Lord Adrian Redwyne and his eldest son, Paxter Redwyne, stood personally before the steps covered in red carpet. With impeccable, merchant-like warm smiles on their faces, they welcomed their "allies" from afar.
Led by Euron, the members of House Greyjoy and the lords of the subordinate islands, guided by members of House Redwyne, passed through the lined-up guards, walked up the red carpet, and headed toward the magnificent castle hall overlooking the harbor.
A maid dressed in House Redwyne colors respectfully presented a silver platter holding bread and salt, representing "guest right."
Euron took the lead, picking up a small piece of bread, dipping it in a little salt, and calmly putting it into his mouth. The rest of the Greyjoys and island lords followed suit, performing this ancient and sacred ritual, completing the etiquette symbolizing peace and protection.
"Please," Lord Adrian turned sideways, making an inviting gesture with a sincere smile. "A banquet has been prepared in the hall. May you all spend a pleasant evening on the Arbor."
Guided by the castle's master, the group of lords and nobles from the Iron Islands stepped through the castle gates. The heavy oak doors slowly closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the shore and the smoke of the campfires, as they entered the brightly lit great hall.
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Naturally, it was impossible for the nearly twenty thousand Ironborn warriors to all enter the castle.
The vast majority of the warriors set up camp in designated areas along the shore, their bonfires lighting up like stars.
Servants of the Arbor shuttled through the camp. Cartloads of malt-scented ale, barrels of wine famous throughout the Seven Kingdoms, as well as golden-roasted suckling pigs and whole roasted sheep were delivered to the camp, soothing these fierce sailors from afar with good food and fine drink. The air was filled with the aroma of food and the rough laughter of the Ironborn.
Inside and outside the walls—on one side, soldiers drinking heavily and feasting in the open air; on the other, nobles engaging in polite social maneuvering within a splendid hall—together, they formed a subtle yet real picture of allies in a peaceful Westeros.
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The great hall of the Arbor's castle was ablaze with light. Crystal chandeliers cast warm golden light onto long tables covered in crimson velvet.
Euron Greyjoy held a gilded goblet, the deep red wine swirling gently within. He nodded slightly toward Lord Redwyne at the head of the table and smiled. "Thank you, Lord Earl, for such generous hospitality." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across the hall. "Fine wine, delicious food, and this rare peace—it is the best resupply for my warriors."
Lord Adrian Redwyne at the head table laughed heartily upon hearing this, the lines at the corners of his eyes relaxing.
"Lord Duke, you are too kind," Adrian said warmly, his gaze steady as he swept over every Greyjoy present. "The Iron Islands and the Arbor are now both under King Robert's peace; we ought to look out for one another." He paused slightly, a look of appropriate shame appearing on his face at just the right moment. "Speaking of which, I feel ashamed. You all shoulder heavy responsibilities on this long expedition. All the Arbor can do is provide this mere night of lodging and some meager supplies. It is truly insignificant."
In the hall, the clink of crystal glasses echoed crisply. The leaders of both sides smiled. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting flickering light on the intertwined Kraken and Grapevine sigils on the wall.
Balon Greyjoy sat stiffly at the banquet, his rough fingers rubbing the stem of his gilded goblet. He stared silently at the guests filling the hall with brilliance, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. This soft banquet of southerners, the insincere toasts—it was all terribly boring to him. Had he known it would be like this, he would have preferred gnawing on salt beef on deck in the salty wind rather than being trapped in this cloying noise.
In the center of the hall, Ashara Dayne was the most dazzling presence. She didn't seek attention, simply sitting quietly beside Euron, yet her simple, elegant gown seemed to absorb all the light in the room. In her arms, she held the month-old Alexander. The occasional glimpse of violet eyes from the swaddling clothes drew frequent glances from everyone. One-year-old Daeron snuggled obediently against her knee, looking curiously at this strange, noisy scene. The mother and two sons became the most eye-catching focal point.
The shrewd Lord Adrian Redwyne naturally wouldn't miss this opportunity. He left his seat with a smile and personally brought over two silver platters lined with velvet. On one lay a miniature silver dagger inlaid with Arbor amethyst; on the other was a bracelet woven from rare deep-sea pearls.
"May the sea breeze forever protect the bloodline of Greyjoy," he said gently, handing the dagger to Daeron and placing the pearl bracelet softly beside Alexander's swaddling clothes. "A small token of my regard. May our friendship last forever." This gift was both a courtesy to an ally and a reaffirmation of the solid alliance between House Redwyne and House Greyjoy before all the guests.
By the time the banquet dispersed, the sky was full of stars.
Hosts and guests bade farewell in an atmosphere of seeming joy.
At dawn tomorrow, the fleet would set sail. Everyone was led by servants to the guest rooms prepared in the castle to rest.
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