On the second day after the Iron Islands fleet docked at Sunspear, the port welcomed another travel-worn fleet.
The leading ship wasn't large but radiated a toughness forged by years of storms and war. Hanging from its mast was not the flag of any known noble house or city-state, but a simple, deep blue banner symbolizing freedom.
Striding off the ship was none other than the former leader of the Stepstones Pirate Alliance—Edwin Ramirez. His bronzed skin was etched with the marks of sea breeze and time. The ornate accessories that once symbolized his authority as leader had been removed. Now, he wore only simple leather armor suited for action, with a weathered longsword hanging at his waist. His gaze was sharper than before, yet also steadier—a relaxed openness of one who had shed a heavy burden and regained true freedom.
Euron personally welcomed him on the dock. When the two old friends met, there were no excessive pleasantries, just a forceful hug and a pat on the back. Everything was understood without words.
"Welcome back, brother." Euron's voice held rare, unadulterated sincerity. He had never forgotten that in the early days when his power was not yet secure, it was Edwin and his pirates who provided crucial support amidst the chaos of the Stepstones, partners who had truly waded through blood together.
"Freedom is the most comfortable, Euron." Edwin grinned, revealing teeth slightly yellowed by smoke and saltpeter. "That leader's chair in the Stepstones was a pain in the ass to sit in."
The two walked side by side toward the council hall near the port. Euron spread out a chart directly, his finger pointing further south in the Narrow Sea, to the archipelago shaped like a winding basilisk composed of dozens of islands large and small.
"I know you were born in the Basilisk Isles," Euron looked at Edwin, his gaze burning. "No one is more familiar with every reef, rock, and undercurrent there than you."
Edwin's gaze fell on the familiar outlines of the islands on the chart. A complex light flashed in his eyes—the look of a wanderer gazing at home. He nodded, his voice low and certain. "Even with my eyes closed, my ship can find every safe channel and know every hidden cove suitable for landing."
"Good. The Basilisk Isles need a king, and you are the only candidate." Euron's fingertip pressed heavily on the center of the Basilisk Isles, his tone decisive. "I will lead the main fleet, and you, my brother, will serve as my guide and blade. Together, we will conquer the Basilisk Isles."
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Three days passed like sand slipping through fingers.
In this brief, almost luxurious stopover, Euron Greyjoy shed the armor of an expedition commander. His figure no longer appeared on the decks of warships or in secret planning rooms, but lingered more in the exotic corners of Sunspear, accompanied by his family.
Holding the month-old Alexander, Euron strolled side by side with Ashara under the corridors of the Water Gardens, letting the cool mist brush their faces, listening to the infant babble in his arms, and watching Ashara's dark hair flow in the morning light.
In the warm afternoon sun, Euron would hold the hands of Rhaenys and little Caesar, stepping onto the sun-scorched beach under Elia's gentle gaze. Waves washed over the golden sand again and again. At the children's request, he would crouch down and pick up strange shells and pebbles polished smooth by the waves. Little Caesar's excited screams and Rhaenys's bell-like laughter, mixed with the cries of seagulls and the rhythm of the tide, composed a rare tranquility.
They also wandered through Sunspear's markets filled with spices, fruits, and noisy crowds. Euron guarded Ashara and Elia, watching them pick out Dornish silk and painted pottery with interest, occasionally whispering about some exquisite trinket, relaxed smiles on their faces.
At sunset, they would have dinner on the terrace overlooking the sea, watching the huge sun sink into the Sea of Dorne, dyeing the sky and sea a burning, magnificent purple. The children played nearby, Ashara and Elia spoke softly, and Euron sat quietly, his gaze sweeping over this picture so warm it felt almost unreal, as if to engrave every moment deep into his memory.
In these short two days, there were no horns of war, no toil of sailing, only the most ordinary and precious time belonging to a husband, father, and family.
The afterglow of the setting sun dyed Sunspear's port a magnificent red-gold. The expeditionary fleet was fully prepared to set sail at tomorrow's dawn. In these final moments before departure, a travel-worn longship, carrying the unique salty and smoky scent of the Stepstones, sailed into the harbor.
Standing at the prow was none other than Floyd Greyjoy—Baelor's son, a young kraken who had been stationed on the front lines of conflict with his father for years. He leaped agilely off the ship, followed by over a hundred fierce subordinates whose eyes carried the tough aura honed in the Stepstones.
Seeing this unexpected figure, a trace of surprise flashed in Euron's eyes. He didn't remember issuing an order to transfer men from the Stepstones.
"Floyd?" Euron stepped forward, scanning his cousin's young face, which combat had etched with some weathering, and asked, "Why are you here?"
Floyd grinned, a smile full of wildness and intimacy, bearing quite a resemblance to his father Baelor.
"Of course I came, Brother Euron." Floyd's tone was matter-of-fact. "After all, it's where my sister Tessaya is going, and where she'll live for a long time. Besides, even if the Summer Isles are conquered, that strange land will need trusted kin to help stabilize the situation and clean up the remnants, won't it?"
His mention of Tessaya Greyjoy cleverly blended family affection with military necessity.
Euron immediately picked up on the underlying meaning and understood this was likely an arrangement by his cautious uncle Baelor—both support for the expedition and a deeper layout to plant Greyjoy roots early in the land about to be conquered. He nodded slightly, smiling faintly. "Hmm, your father thinks thoroughly. In a foreign land, your sister does indeed need trusted aides by her side."
He patted Floyd's shoulder and asked no more.
"Alright," Euron turned, looking at the massive fleet that would soon be his, his voice steady and powerful. "Since you're here, you're here. Get ready. We leave together tomorrow morning."
The smile on Floyd's face grew brighter. He waved to his men behind him, and the group quickly and orderly merged into the busy Ironborn ranks at the port, like a stream flowing into the sea.
Looking at Floyd, Euron suddenly seemed to remember something and asked, "Just you? Did 'Thousand-Eyes' follow you?"
Floyd shook his head. "No. It must stay with Father. The Stepstones are a mixed bag; 'Thousand-Eyes' is needed there to deter the rabble."
Hearing this, Euron nodded approvingly.
"Yes, as it should be." Euron walked slowly to the edge of the dock, gazing into the bottomless water below, and smiled. "I said that every true Greyjoy will eventually possess a Sea King to guard him. You, naturally, are no exception."
With that, he bent down. Without using force, he simply slapped his palm gently on the rippling surface.
In the next moment, the sea surface outside the port rose silently. A slender black shadow, massive enough to make hearts palpitate, broke the water. Its length was astonishing, its lines fluid and full of explosive power. Most striking was its snout—not ordinary flesh and blood, but an exaggeratedly long pale bone blade shimmering with cold light at the edges, like a deadly lance tailored for the ocean.
[Shadow Sailfish]
It floated quietly in the shallows, its massive body seemingly feeling no resistance from the current. Sunlight reflected a metallic luster on its slick dark blue skin. Even stranger, its body outline would blur for a moment from time to time, as if it could briefly merge into the water flow and penetrate physical barriers.
Seeing Floyd's instantly widened eyes and unconcealed shock, Euron smiled. "I keep my word. From this day on, it's yours." His tone then carried a warning. "Be careful riding it, Floyd. Its speed is beyond your imagination, and that 'intangibility' ability is even harder to grasp. You'll need to spend quite some effort to truly ride alongside it."
The young Greyjoy took a deep breath, flames of mixed ecstasy and challenge burning in his eyes. He stared tightly at the ocean predator that seemed born for speed and nodded vigorously.
Floyd's eyes shone with uncontrollable excitement. He took a deep breath of the salty sea air and leaped, landing steadily on the smooth, broad back of the Shadow Sailfish.
Almost the instant his feet landed—before he could even blink—the surrounding scenery twisted and stretched violently! A scream of air being torn apart filled his ears. The port, the fleet, Sunspear... everything receded madly in his vision, shrinking into blurred patches of color.
In just the flicker of a thought, he was already in open water hundreds of meters away. The immense inertia brought by that terrifying acceleration flung him ruthlessly off the Shadow Sailfish's back like a stone thrown from a trebuchet.
SPLASH—
After a good while, Floyd burst out from the churning waves, coughing violently and spitting out the seawater he had choked on. Instead of anger, he erupted into a burst of hearty laughter that echoed over the open sea.
The Shadow Sailfish's massive body swam silently to his side like a ghost, lowering its iconic, cold-glimmering bone blade snout. In those eyes belonging to an ancient Sea King, there was actually a clearly visible curiosity and... a hint of mockery, as if puzzled why this new partner was so "fragile."
Floyd wiped the water from his face and reached out to pat the Shadow Sailfish's tough skin, his face overflowing with the desire to conquer and pure joy.
"So fast! This speed is incredible!" he praised loudly, then decided on a name. "From today on, you're called 'Shadow'! A name that fits reality!"
He stared burningly at this embodiment of speed, his fighting spirit soaring even higher.
"Come on, Shadow! Let's try again!"
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