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CaveLeather
The Stepstones
Edwin Ramirez stood on a jagged, wind-eroded reef at the edge of the island, the salty gale billowing his faded old cloak. He gazed out at the familiar yet strange sea before him, the frost and storms of over three years settling in his gray-green eyes.
Three years ago, when he received that sharply worded secret letter from Euron, he was just a rising young captain in the Basilisk Isles. The letter contained only a brief invitation and a heart-pounding promise—about the Stepstones, about opportunities in chaos. He didn't hesitate. Taking his most loyal crew and a few fast ships, he crossed the storms to keep the appointment.
These three years had been woven from blood and fire.
Edwin had struggled to survive in these waters filled with betrayal, greed, and fleeting alliances. Euron Greyjoy, the "Kraken" far away in the Iron Islands, had not broken his word.
Although the Iron Islands' fleet had not intervened on a massive scale, they always appeared at critical moments in just the right way—sometimes a precise flank distraction, sometimes a timely delivery of weapons and supplies, and sometimes merely the deterrence brought by the Greyjoy banner appearing on the distant horizon.
With Euron's invisible support, Edwin, relying on his own courage and increasingly refined political maneuvering, stepped over the corpses of rivals and broken alliances one by one, finally securing the seat of the leader of the Stepstones Pirate Alliance. That rough chair forged from driftwood and black iron.
Not long ago, a familiar Greyjoy raven with a wide wingspan had crossed the Narrow Sea once more, landing on the windowsill of his alliance hall.
Bound to the bird's leg was a new letter from Euron Greyjoy.
Edwin removed the thin parchment. His fingertips seemed to feel the power contained in his old friend's writing from afar, power that was about to stir the great sea once again. He knew the calm was about to end; a new voyage was calling.
The hall of the Pirate Alliance in the Stepstones.
Calling it a hall was generous; it was more like a crudely modified natural sea cave.
The damp rock walls were slick with seepage, torches crackled on their sconces, casting swaying human shadows on the floor strewn with shell debris. The air was thick with the mixed stench of cheap rum, sweat, and rotting seafood.
Dozens of pirate captains, varying in appearance but all radiating wildness and the scent of blood, sat or stood, filling the space. Among them were elegant executioners from Tyrosh, one-eyed butchers from Myr, and greedy speculators from Lys.
They were noisy, arguing, sharing plundered treasures and women, until a figure stepped onto the slightly raised rock platform at the front.
Edwin Ramirez, the leader who had ruled the Stepstones Pirate Alliance for over three years, stood before everyone. He wore no magnificent ornaments symbolizing power, merely twisting casually at his goatee, which was groomed meticulously yet now streaked with silver. On his face hung an inscrutable, grinning smile.
"Brothers," Edwin's voice wasn't loud, yet it strangely suppressed the clamor in the cave, drawing everyone's gaze involuntarily. "I've gathered you all here today because there's one thing I need to announce to you."
Edwin Ramirez slowly scanned the pirate captains below—some sprawled out, some drunk, some looking fierce. His gaze lingered deliberately on the faces of the few most powerful leaders, confirming everyone heard his words.
He paused intentionally, enjoying the rising atmosphere of doubt below, then clearly and calmly spat out a decision: "From this day forth, I, Edwin Ramirez, will no longer serve as the leader of the Pirate Alliance."
The moment his words fell, the entire noisy cave seemed choked by an invisible giant hand.
The shouting, clinking of cups, and cursing stopped abruptly.
The crackling of the torches became unusually clear. A wine skin slipped from a drunkard's hand, hitting the ground with a dull thud that no one heeded. Every face—whether ferocious, cunning, or numb—was written with incredulous shock.
Edwin Ramirez slowly stood up from the leader's chair roughly pieced together from wood, whalebone, and black iron. A near-mischievous grin hung on his face as his gaze swept over every suspicious face below.
"Now," he stood aside, opening his hands, his tone flippant as if discussing a trivial matter, "whoever wants to sit in this seat can come up yourself."
A joke? Or a test?
"Look at me, do I look like I'm lying!?"
The dead silence was broken, replaced by a hum of whispers and commotion.
A captain with a crooked pirate hat and a scarred face jumped up, his voice full of confusion and a trace of panic. "Why leave!? Boss, aren't we doing fine here? We have wine and meat every day, don't have to run around the four seas like stray dogs, don't have to endure the glares of those noble lords, and rarely need to risk our necks fighting everywhere. Just guarding the channel and collecting some 'trade tax' is enough to feed all our brothers!"
"Yeah!" a bloated captain next to him immediately chimed in, waving his thick arms and roaring, "Ever since the Iron Islands gained the upper hand in these waters, the joint fleet of those bastards from Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh hasn't dared to trouble us! This life is much more comfortable than before! Why leave?"
Edwin maintained that cynical smile, as if it had nothing to do with him. "Isn't that perfect? My leaving doesn't stop you from continuing this comfortable life. I didn't ask you to come with me."
"It's not the same!" another voice rang out, more urgent. "You're the one with the most contact with the Iron Islands! You're the leader personally appointed by the 'Master of Sea Beasts,' Lord Euron of the 'Crown of Skulls'! Without Lord Euron's word, who... who among us dares to sit in that seat?" This spoke the fear in many hearts; they feared not just Edwin, but the silent leviathan behind him.
"Isn't that easy?" Edwin scoffed, mocking their cowardice. "Go to Pyke yourselves, find Lord Euron the 'Master of Sea Beasts,' or go talk to Lord Balon the 'Terror of the Seas' who manages affairs here now."
The pirate captain who proposed this was instantly speechless, his face paling. "This..." Go find those two big shots known for their iron and blood? They didn't have the guts.
The height of the "Crown of Skulls" was now enough to terrify anyone.
Seeing everyone's shrinking expressions, Edwin suddenly changed the subject, his voice deepening as he sighed. "Actually, brothers, what do we rely on to live peacefully in this corner of the Stepstones? Is it our sharp blades, or our many ships?"
He paused, his gaze scraping over everyone like a knife. The answer was self-evident.
"We rely on the support of the Iron Islands Alliance!" Edwin answered his own question, raising his voice. "To be honest, in the past two years, although we still hang the sign of 'Pirate Alliance' and claim independence, which major operation hasn't followed the arrangements of Lord Balon, the 'Terror of the Seas'? We've long been his de facto vassals! Since that's the case..."
He paused again, throwing out the earth-shattering suggestion: "Why not consider being decisive, directly becoming part of the Iron Islands Alliance, and legitimately receiving his protection permanently? Take off this hat of 'pirate' completely!"
"Can... can we do that?" someone asked tremblingly, with disbelief and a hint of longing in their tone.
"Of course we can!" Edwin's answer was decisive, full of seduction, grinning. "If we actively seek refuge, bringing the waters we know, our ships, and ourselves, why would they disagree? Do they have a reason to refuse?"
The cave fell into a deeper silence, but this time it wasn't shock, but intense internal weighing.
Some hesitated, eyes flickering; some were silent, heads bowed in thought; but most, after brief whispers, began to nod slowly in agreement. Comfort and survival were ultimately more attractive than hollow "independence."
Edwin Ramirez watched this scene, knowing the time was ripe.
"In that case," Edwin said loudly, making his final decision as leader, "before I leave, I will personally discuss this with Lord Balon, the 'Terror of the Seas.' From this day forth, the Stepstones Pirate Alliance is officially disbanded! And all of us will become part of the Iron Islands Alliance!"
---
On the coastline of Grey Gallows, jagged black reefs looked like the bones of giant beasts, and the broken waves whimpered endlessly in the rock crevices. In this land favored by death and storms, a ceremony destined to change the landscape of the Narrow Sea was taking place today.
"Terror of the Seas" Balon Greyjoy stood on a massive rock shaped like a guillotine by the shore, draped in a heavy walrus-hide cloak. The sea breeze ruffled his dark beard and hair, but could not shake his rock-like stature.
Balon Greyjoy's Sea King partner, the terrifying sea spider known as "Thousand-Eyes," stood quietly beside him. Its mountain-like body was densely covered with nearly a thousand sickly green compound eyes, flickering like ghost fire, silently scanning everything around.
His cold gaze looked down at the group of uneasy former Pirate Alliance members on the beach below.
Edwin Ramirez stepped forward alone, kneeling on one knee on the rough sand and gravel, his posture extremely low. He looked up, his voice clear even in the howling sea breeze, full of deliberately expressed, unreserved earnestness:
"Honorable Lord Balon, 'Terror of the Seas'! I, Edwin Ramirez, on behalf of all the brothers of the Stepstones willing to submit, with the sincerest heart, implore you to accept us! We voluntarily renounce our pirate identity and alliance, dedicating our ships, our swords, and all our loyalty to these waters entirely to the Iron Islands Alliance, to House Greyjoy!"
He repeated the request over and over, his words earnest, as if this were their only way out.
Balon listened silently, that silence more oppressive than the roar of the waves. His sharp gaze swept over Edwin, over the apprehensive pirate captains behind him, as if weighing their value and loyalty.
After a suffocating wait, Balon finally took a step forward. "Since you request so sincerely..." Balon's voice was like grinding stones, low and full of power, echoing along the coast, "The Iron Islands accept your allegiance."
He took a ceremonial battle-axe handed to him by an Ironborn warrior, lightly tapped the back of the axe on Edwin's left and right shoulders, and solemnly said, "From this moment on, the Stepstones Pirate Alliance ceases to exist! You shall be protected by Iron Islands law, and must bleed for the Greyjoy banner!"
There were no cheers, only the eternal howl of the sea wind.
But the moment Balon announced their acceptance, the delicate balance that had lasted for years in the Stepstones was thoroughly broken.
The former three-legged stance—Iron Islands, Pirate Alliance, Kingdom of the Three Daughters—had collapsed.
Now on this sea of strife, only two giant beasts remained facing each other across the water: on one side, the Iron Islands Alliance, now even more powerful having integrated the pirate forces; on the other, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, which was bound to be shaken by this and unite in response.
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