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Morning light pierced the mist of the Arbor's harbor, dyeing the fleet's gray sails a golden red.
Euron Greyjoy and Balon Greyjoy stood side by side on the dock, bidding farewell to the Redwyne father and son who had come to see them off.
"May the wind always be in your favor, Lord Duke," Earl Adrian said solemnly, though his gaze drifted involuntarily to behind Euron.
Euron smiled and replied, "Thank you for your blessings, Lord Earl!"
In the harbor, over three hundred warships were slowly raising their sails.
The oars of the warships sliced into the emerald water in unison, creating a low and powerful rhythm like the heartbeat of a giant beast. Gray sails filled one by one, immediately puffed into full arcs by the sea breeze, pushing the hulls firmly through the waves.
Balon's Wrath of the Grey King and Euron's Zhiyuan sailed neck and neck, like two monarchs inspecting their domain. The shadows cast by their massive hulls nearly covered the entire channel.
The ships were endless and orderly, forming a moving, boundless maritime forest. The glint of steel, the splashing of oars, and the shouts of warriors combined into an unstoppable torrent, marching grandly south toward the path of conquest.
The sea breeze brought a salty scent, and also the deep, resonant war songs of the warriors on deck. Scars crisscrossed their bronzed skin, and their eyes burned with the desire for the expedition—this was a fleet born for conquest.
Earl Adrian Redwyne stood on the dock for a long time, letting the sea breeze ruffle his graying temples. It wasn't until the sail of the last Greyjoy warship disappeared over the horizon that he slowly withdrew his gaze, letting out a long breath filled with indescribably complex emotions.
"Such a military presence..." The old Earl's voice was somewhat dry. He turned to his son Paxter, his eyes holding lingering shock and a trace of imperceptible desolation. "Our Arbor fleet, which we take such pride in, looks like children's toys compared to them."
Paxter's gaze still fixed on the direction where the fleet had vanished. He sighed, "They are indeed powerful, Father. Powerful enough to be... suffocating." He chose his words carefully. "But as I said, they are our allies right now. Euron Greyjoy's ambition points south, not at the Seven Kingdoms, and certainly not at our Reach. While this 'Son of the Drowned God' turns his gaze elsewhere, it is indeed fortunate that we stand beside him, not against him."
"Allies?" Adrian gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "Paxter, you must remember, today's ally may be tomorrow's enemy. What maintains our relationship is not friendship, but our tenuous cooperation, and..." He looked back toward the castle, where the Greyjoy family had been hosted. "...and the 'value' and 'obedience' we show at this moment."
The old Earl's gaze sharpened. He patted his son's shoulder, his tone heavy and firm. "While rejoicing, we must not forget vigilance. We cannot rely on 'fortune' to protect the Arbor forever. We must make our fleet stronger, our walls sturdier. Only by possessing strength ourselves can we truly master our own destiny in any storm."
He took one last look at the empty ocean, then turned toward the castle, his back looking exceptionally resolute in the morning light. "Let's go, son. We have our own voyage to continue."
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The fleet left the azure waves and golden shores of the Arbor, turning south and cutting through the waves along the coast of Dorne.
The fleet's next anchor point was the kingdom of red earth and scorching sun—Sunspear. That would be their final stop on the continent of Westeros. After completing final resupplies and a brief rest, the spearhead of the expedition would point straight at the Summer Isles.
Days of sailing passed amidst the sounds of sails and sea breeze.
As the fleet moved further south, the climate quietly changed.
The biting sea breeze gradually became mild, even carrying a faint hint of dry heat from the southern deserts and the fragrance of exotic spices. The seawater transitioned from the familiar deep gray to a soul-stirring emerald green and azure blue.
The closer they got to their destination, the more difficult it became to suppress the restlessness in the Ironborn blood.
An excitement of impending battle silently passed and spread between every ship.
They were no longer satisfied with silent sailing. Ancient war songs began to sound on one longship. At first, it was just one or two ships, but soon the melody spread like a tidal wave. Hundreds and thousands of voices joined in, quickly sweeping through the entire fleet like wildfire.
The voices were rough and uninhibited:
"Our longships are the steeds of the sea!"
"Our axes are the fangs of the storm!"
"The Drowned God grants us courage—"
"To seize the gold!"
"The people of the Drowned God~"
"Shall return to the Drowned God's watery halls!"
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They sang of the Drowned God's might, of the ancestors' glory in plundering amidst raging waves, and of the wealth and victory they were about to win on the rich southern lands. The singing wasn't always orderly, but it was filled with primal power, echoing over this increasingly warm sea to the beat of oars striking water.
Every day at dawn, when the first pale light swept across the mast of the Zhiyuan, the crisp ringing of clashing metal would sound punctually on the deck.
This was Euron Greyjoy's classroom. There were only two students: his niece Asha, and his brother Victarion.
Euron moved with agility, the dual blades in his hands seemingly alive, turning into two arcs of silver light wrapping around his body. He wore no armor, only dark leathers for ease of movement. The sea breeze blew his unbound black hair wildly.
Opposite him, Asha Greyjoy was fully focused, her gray eyes closely following her uncle's every move. She also held dual blades, her stance identical to Euron's.
Among all of Balon's children, Asha's combat talent was the most dazzling. The person she had admired since childhood was this uncle famous for his dual blades. Since she could hold a weapon, she had insisted on imitating Euron's fighting style. Especially after Euron won the single combat event at the Tourney at Harrenhal, she practically worshipped the art of dual blades. Years of bitter practice made her left and right hands equally dexterous, her blades flowing lethally from any angle.
Victarion on the other side was completely different. He was as steady as a mountain, his huge hands gripping a heavy greatsword nearly as tall as a man. He was the most powerful and resilient of Euron's brothers, accustomed to crushing enemies with overwhelming offense.
Blades and shadows wove together in the morning light. The clash of metal, heavy panting, and the sound of waves merged into one.
Euron's movement was ghost-like. The dual blades in his hands seemed to possess life, carving out tricky and lethal trajectories. Sometimes he attacked like a storm, forcing both to defend with all their might; sometimes he stopped abruptly, using the tip of his blade to precisely point out minute flaws in their stances.
"Wrists must be lively, Asha. Like water, not like a reef!" His voice was calm without a hint of breathlessness, even after completing a flurry of wind-like slashes. Asha pressed her lips tight, a fire of refusal to admit defeat burning in her eyes. The dual blades in her hands were slightly shorter than Euron's, appearing more nimble. Her talent lay in innate agility and near-bestial intuition, often blocking or countering from unexpected angles, her blades flashing like two silver mackerel waiting for an opening.
Facing Victarion, Euron's strategy was entirely different. His brother wielded a massive two-handed greatsword that tore through the air with a dull roar. Victarion's talent lay in terrifying strength and rock-like stability. Every block was heavy and powerful; an ordinary weapon would have been knocked flying long ago.
"Strength is not brute force, Victarion!" Euron's blades rarely met the greatsword head-on. Instead, he would guide it cleverly along its momentum, deflecting that immense power slightly until it dissipated into nothing. "Be like the tide. Have the momentum to swallow everything, but also the subtlety to take everything away when retreating!"
Around the deck, many sailors would silently gather to watch. They watched Asha's dance-like dual blades, Victarion's reef-splitting strikes, and most of all, how Lord Euron handled these two completely different styles simultaneously, as if riding the waves.
At dusk, when combat training ended and the scent of sweat and steel on the deck had not yet dissipated, another lesson would begin.
Euron would take Asha and Victarion to the navigation room in the sterncastle, where huge charts hung.
Here, there was no clashing of blades, only Euron's low voice echoing in the swaying light of whale-oil lamps, teaching skills far more complex than swordplay.
Euron pressed his finger on the winding coastlines and scattered islands on the chart, saying deeply, "The outcome of a fight depends on the strength and angle of your blade, but the outcome of a war is swayed by many factors."
Euron taught them how to interpret the secret language of wind and currents, how to predict storms from cloud layers and the paths of birds. He deconstructed every classic raid and naval battle in history, focusing not just on the glory of victory, but more on how choices were made in desperate situations, and how to weigh gains against losses.
"To control a ship, you need sailors to fear your strength; but to control a fleet, or even a kingdom, you need them to fear your wisdom, and believe that following you will bring glory and wealth."
Asha displayed amazing tactical acumen. She could always quickly understand the setups Euron laid out and propose bold, tricky flanking maneuvers. The agility of her mind was in no way inferior to the dance of her dual blades. Victarion showed solid talent for fleet formation, logistical deployment, and the application of absolute force. He might not be tricky enough, but his steadiness and powerful execution were enough to make him the most reliable cornerstone on any front line.
Euron watched them, a hint of expectation flitting through his eyes.
Euron knew the trajectory of history. Even without his deliberate cultivation, the niece and brother before him would eventually grow into captains and rulers that the Seven Kingdoms would look upon with respect. But precisely because of this, Euron spared no effort in training them. He wanted to implant those lessons they would have needed over a decade of blood and fire to learn—the essence of strategy, ambition, and rule—into their minds ahead of time.
Under his personal carving, these two rough gems would surely shine with a brilliance far exceeding what "fate" had originally set for them.
In the future, they would become the sharpest double blades of House Greyjoy, assisting him, and even after him, supporting an unprecedented empire that truly ruled the oceans.
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