GOT/ASOIAF: A Game Of Ice And Fire

I was back on a boat the next morning, since there really was no other way to experience the Iron Islands.

And one might have thought that once they were in this archipelago the choppy waters would subside a little.

But that didn't seem to be true.

Even a short trip between islands needed an experienced captain and a strong stomach.

Thankfully, Lord Harlaw had borrowed one of his best quartermasters to aid Gerion in sailing his ship around.

There were 31 islands in total in the archipelago, although only seven could truly be counted as officially inhabited.

There may be the odd Ironborn family on the smaller islands, fishing and tending sheep, but nothing significant.

Their ubiquitous rocky shorelines meant that there were actually very few safe harbors, so the towns and villages of these islands tended to cluster around them.

But make no mistake, these were inhospitable islands.

They had their rugged charm, but they were not beautiful like the Arbor or Bear Island were said to be.

The shallow rocky soil made them hard to farm, and now that most of them had been deforested the wind whipped across them like an angry god.

The result of all this hardship over millennia was

hardy folk, and although I could not condone it, it was understandable to me why the inhabitants here thought it was easier to get what they needed by raiding the mainland than by tilling the hard soil at home.

My second stop on this trip was Blacktyde, and I will not lie, it was not a particularly attractive destination.

Perhaps I was just not impressed by the lack of imagination in the rather dull nomenclature here.

The principal house of Blacktyde Island was

House Blacktyde, who resided in Blacktyde castle.

This lack of imagination was, I have to say, reflected in the island itself.

Like almost all of the Ironborn castles, it was on the coast, made from stone and dank.

Its only real distinguishing feature was that it was on the northernmost of these islands, and .

But this did provide the opportunity to reflect on

the fact that once, and indeed for most of the history of the Iron Islands, each of the islands were their own Kingdom.

However small or dull they might've been.

And each Kingdom had two kings back then.

A Rock King who was in charge of all matters on the island itself, settling disputes and dispensing justice.

And the Salt King, whose rule was absolute over the islands fleet and everything that happened at

sea.

After interacting with Lord Blacktyde in similar fashion as I did with Lord Harlaw, the 'Laughing Lion' led me on to Oakmont.

The most central of the islands had a couple

of noble families based on it, awkward and tawny, but it's most notable for being the home to two extinct but legendary houses in these parts.

When the Ironborn first had a High King, or a

Driftwood King as they were sometimes known on account of the crown of driftwood that they wore, the first was Urras Greyiron, and House Greyiron remained the preeminent house for centuries.

The driftwood crown was not for a long time passed down from father to son, but instead each new king was elected by Kingsmoot from the lords and captains of the Iron Islands.

It was said that 38 Greyirons were elected High King, more than twice as many as any other

house.

And so it was perhaps no surprise that when the kingship of the Iron Islands became hereditary it was House Greyiron of Oakmont who seized control.

It was Torgon Greyiron who did it, he was away raiding when his father died and a Kingsmoot was called, but no one told him hoping that his absence would boost their own chances of becoming king.

When he did return, Torgon the Late Comer as he became known, denounced the Kingsmoot as invalid and claimed the crown by force.

He passed it to his son without calling a Kingsmoot, and he passed it to his nephew.

It was this Greyiron, Urron Greyiron, who forged a new iron crown to pass to his descendants, crushed all opposition and cemented the ascendancy of the Greyirons for the next

thousand years.

They were finally overthrown by a combination of Andals, Greyjoys, Orkwood, Drumms and House

Hoare.

And House Hoare, also originally from Oakmont, then became the preeminent power in the islands.

In the centuries that followed, House Hoare went through much rebellions, accusations of being too Andal, being praised and hated for bringing the Faith of the Seven to the islands, being raided by the Lannisters, establishing more peaceful trading relations with the mainland, and finally expanding the Ironborn Empire well into the Riverlands.

So great was the extent of this kingdom that the last three of the Hoare Kings styled themselves Kings of the Isles and Rivers, and spent more time in the Riverlands than they did on the Iron Islands.

The last of the line, Harren the Black was the King who ordered the construction of mighty

Harrenhal.

Anyway, to return to Oakmont, despite its illustrious alumni, it was a largely unremarkable island.

Like so many others, it was almost bȧrė of trees, they were all chopped down long ago to build boats, as all of it was rocky and inhospitable.

I'm sure anyone could get the picture by now.

Now moving on to the largest of these islands, Great Wyk, with Sandor already seeming grateful to finally have feet on solid land for a few days as the 'Laughing Lion' docked at Pebbletown.

Sailing may be second nature to the Ironborn, but Gerion's crew was composed of mainlanders, who were not afraid to admit it.

I was tempted to gloss over the sights of this town (or large village) as I did at Blacktyde and

Oakmont, because it was not worth a trip to

see just this.

But I spend so long looking around the castles of four of these Seven Kingdoms, that it's worth pausing every now and then to see how the other 95% of the people lived.

Most houses here were little more than hovels, and I couldn't help but notice that the boats in the harbor were kept in better repair.

Like most settlements in the Iron Islands, it was on the coast and made the best of a rare natural harbor.

A high stone wall surrounded the town, and highest of all was Pebbleton tower, the seat of House Merlyn.

This was where the people would seek sanctuary if there was a raid of any kind, but in truth that didn't seem to happen for a while.

It's normally the Iron Islanders doing the raiding.

All around the town hung the stench of fish and salt, almost everyone seemed to be involved in

the fisheries industry in some way, with root vegetables and the like being sourced from the small patches of farmland outside the town walls or brought in from the mainland.

It was very much a hand-to-mouth existence.

But enough of the small folk.

Walking inland for a couple of days, I found the rarest of things, an Ironborn castle not on the shore.

As one might expect, it was a tough journey.

The hard stone hills in the center of Great Wyk were nearly mountains, and I'm sure there would not be a castle at all if it were not for the iron ore.

Incidentally, there was a school of thought that this was why the iron men were called that after the copious amounts of iron ore on the Iron Islands.

Of course, the Ironmen themselves claimed it was because of their strong character and fighting abilities, but… well… anyone could decide for themselves.

Hammerhorn Castle stood atop a cliff, rising out of the landscape as if it was a natural part of it, the grey stone of its walls merged with the hills around it.

In order to get to the main gate, my retinue and I must walk past the entrance to the mines, picking our way through the small folk who work here, seemingly all hours of the day.

Though thinking about it now, perhaps these weren't small folk, but thralls.

Indentured servants.

The practice of keeping thralls has long since been abandoned on mainland Westeros, but here in the Iron Islands it was still allowed.

Technically, these people weren't slaves, as they couldn't be bought or sold, but that was a distinction that was too fine for my modern mentality.

There was no way out for these poor people.

They could only be obtained by paying the Iron Price, which was a rather sanitized way of saying that they were ripped from their homes against their will and forced to work here in the mines for the rest of their lives.

Their children were condemned to the same

fate as well, unless they convert to the religion of the Drowned God.

Most didn't care what name the Ironborn gave it, this was still considered inhumane for the people of the other kingdoms.

But contrary to the dragon Queen, I wasn't planning to trade a greater evil for a lesser one.

Instead, I decided to play smart and gain the favor of both groups.

Neither would look at me as their savior or best ally, but they wouldn't oppose me as vehemently as the slave master did to Daenerys.

At least not until I was sure they wouldn't pose even the slightest inconvenience.

Nevertheless…

Hammerhorn, at Hardstone Hills on Great Wyk, was the seat of the main line of House Goodbrother in the Iron Islands, with their blazon displaying a gold-banded black warhorn on red.

House Goodbrother had at least three cadet branches on Great Wyk, the Goodbrothers of Corpse Lake, the Goodbrothers of Crow Spike Keep, and the Goodbrothers of Downdelving.

Other branches included the Goodbrothers of Shatterstone on Old Wyk and the Goodbrothers of Orkmont.

Looking up at their castle now, with its thick dark stone walls and spiky battlements, my men and I approached it seeking a place to spend the night.

Hammerhorn's hall was dank and drafty, although it had a different vibe from the other Ironborn castles.

Lord Gorold Goodbrother of Hammerhorn was a strong man despite his age, having sired twelve daughters and three triplet sons a year older than me.

Although still nothing compared to Walder Frey, who supposedly sired 34 trueborn sons and daughters from eight marriages, Lady Goodbrother must have broken a record.

It seems Gorold and his wife weren't satisfied until they got a male heir, lo and behold they got three at once.

Must be hard finding suitable matches for all the daughters though.

The Ironborn women weren't exactly ugly, but neither were they considered pretty, otherwise so many Ironmen wouldn't risk all the trouble of claiming multiple Salt Wives and having to live with them just because they looked attractive.

Thoros once claimed that what they lacked in comeliness they more than compensated with stronger and curvaceous bodies, only for Jalabhar Xho to remark that Summer Islander were better.

Memories of the exciting nights I had with Chataya led me to agree with him, but if the occasion ever came, I wouldn't refuse the embrace of an Iron Islander woman.

But enough about them…

Strangely enough, I was interested in Lord Goodbrother's sons.

…

Not like that.

Greydon Goodbrother was technically the eldest son and heir of Gorold Goodbrother, Lord of Hammerhorn.

Out of the three, he was the one who seemed to most favored the path of the warrior, having already stood out in the combat lessons he was having alongside his brothers.

Greydon reminded me of Daven, if he was a decade younger, with how blunt and outspoken he was.

Thankfully he had yet to develop a similar kind of arrogance and vanity I had come to expect from a Ironborn noble, like Theon Greyjoy was infamous for.

Though signs of it were more noticeable in the middle brother.

Gran Goodbrother was the second son of Lord Gorold Goodbrother and the one that most favored the path of the noblemen, with a little bit of natural entrepreneurial spirit.

Fortunately he was more Tyrion Lannister than Theon Greyjoy, since he was intelligent, well educated, and a ferocious reader.

Caring more about etiquette and bargaining knowledge than combat prowess or devotion to the faith of the Drowned God, he also reminded me of Lord Harlaw and Lord Blacktyde.

Which wasn't that controversial in the eyes of his father, since they were all disdained by most of the other Ironborn Lords.

The third brother was a peculiar case.

Gormond Goodbrother possessed neither Greydon's talent for combat or Gran's mental acuity, favoring instead both the art of blacksmithing and mining.

Out of the three, he was the most creative and inquisitive one.

Reminding me a little of Tobho Mott, with a small hint of perfectionism, willingness to dedicate hours of sleep to test an idea he just came up with and an analytical eye for breaking things apart to better understand how they worked.

Although very different in tastes and ambitions, the brothers were still physically identical triplets, being very hard for regular people to tell them apart from each other.

Thankfully their preference for clothes also mirrored their personalities.

But that was beyond the point.

The reason I've come seeking this house was slightly different from the one that led me to secure both House Harlaw and House Blacktyde's support.

Unlike most great houses of the Iron Islands who claimed direct descent from the Grey King, the Goodbrothers claimed descent from the Grey King's loyal eldest brother.

And that wasn't the only thing they had that was considered uncommon…

Since their wealth did not come from the Sunset Sea but from their mines beneath the earth, it led them to gain a certain level of disdain from their fellow Ironmen.

A perfect combo to get a reliable ally if I worded well my offer.

Once I finally explained my unwarned appearance and left Gerion to make a deal with the Maester of this castle, I had requested that I could speak in private with Lord Goodbrother.

Since I was on a tight schedule, I didn't around the bush with what I knew.

"So, the Greyjoy's scheme has been discovered for quite a while by the Lord of the Rock?" Gorold Goodbrother replied, hinting that he didn't completely believe in what I had told him, or at least that he had anything fear about it.

"I understand you've received a letter from both Lord Harlaw and Blackwynd." I remarked while subtly repeating the method I used up until now to manipulate my way around these Ironborn lords. "You wouldn't be the first Ironmen to understand the folly of such a plan. In the best case scenario, your first attack might've been successful. But news would've inevitably traveled very quickly after that, and you all underestimate the animosity people of the continent have against the raids of your people. Rebels and Loyalists would band together to squash your pitiful rebellion. My father at least had the support of other major houses like the Starks, Arryns and Tullys when he rebelled."

The Ironborn lord reflected over my words for a moment before sighing and replying. "You are no liar, my prince. But you can't expect my people to be intimidated by the odds." He tapped his finger over his desk while finally going for the relevant question. "So what are you offering?"

"It's already too late to stop your leige lord from leading your people into a rebellion they can't hope to succeed." I reasoned. "And I won't lie, the fallout of such defiance won't be pretty. My grandfather has been waiting for another opportunity to repeat the example he made of the Reynes of Castamere. And if your people raid and pillage a city or two, he will have all the justification to do so. So what I'm offering is all the support you will need to take the lordship over the Iron Islands after the Rebellion is over."

"You expect me to betray my King?" Gorold asked, not as much offended as he was conflicted.

"Balon Greyjoy would only become King after he paid the iron price for it. However, how long would it take for my father and his supporters to take it back from him, putting an end to the uncontrolled raids his rule would've brought to all of Westeros?" I told him. "And where is it written that your king must be a kraken? What right does Pyke have to rule you all? Great Wyk is the largest isle, Harlaw the richest, Old Wyk the most holy. When the black line was consumed by dragonfire, the ironborn gave the primacy to Vickon Greyjoy, indeed... but as lord, not king."

Lord Goodbrother remained silent, but I could see signs of him agreeing to the point I was making.

"I'm also aware that your people crave battle and glory, soon I will be expanding my Royal Region to possess its own fleet and I believe the Ironborn will prove to be great candidates for bolstering my military sea force ranks." I added to the sweeten deal, giving him a good idea of what might help him win the Kingsmoot. "I won't lie to you, the Iron Throne has plans to expand its territory of influence, and I believe your people would be just as enthusiastic about conquering new seas as the people of the continent are in regards to conquering new lands. Think about it… the Narrow Sea, Summer Sea, Shivering Sea, Jade Sea and many more."

"How long do I have to make my choice?" Lord Goodbrother asked, finally betraying some willingness to accept my proposal.

Anyone one else would've tread very carefully to not offend him and risk losing everything, but persuasion wasn't solely relied upon befriending others.

"Up until tomorrow morning. I will be sailing away with my proposition discarded, unless you've your three sons leaving with me to become wards at Casterly Rock. This should be enough of an excuse to not sail with the other Ironborn houses and something to clear your house's name once the people of the continent began seeking retribution against your people." I said while standing up and preparing to leave his solar. "I've offered you valuable support and the certainty that you wouldn't be the only Ironborn house to take the side of reason. Now it's all up to you. If you still believe that Lord Greyjoy's rebellion might have the slightest chance to succeed, go and warn him immediately that he already lost the element of surprise."

Gerold remained silent this time.

Intimidation was not only a valid alternative, but also one that these Iron Islanders seemed to have a strange form of respect for.

That and the extent I was capable of rewarding them.

"And if House Goodbrother becomes a valuable vassal house to the Crown, Gerion Lannister also has some great trade deals with Casterly Rock for the amount of iron you produce here." I concluded and walked out of his solar.

Lord Goodbrother could be stupid enough to refuse my offer and send his guards to secure me in order to have something to blackmail my father with.

But that would've merely been an amusing challenge at best.

—————————————————————

By the next morning, the 'Laughing Lion' had three extra passengers.

In all honesty, I was growing impressed by how far my ability to persuade and manipulate others was growing.

The triplets were mostly oblivious to the actual reason why their father had sent them with me other than political matters, perhaps because they didn't know about the looming rebellion.

Then again, why would these eight years old need to be aware of such matters?

Regardless, my plan to gain their loyalty also took into consideration how Theon ended up with the Starks.

Greydon, Gran and Gormond had been raised by a house that didn't favor the overdependence on the sea nor seemed fanatic with the Faith of the Drowned God.

Honesty, they might even feel more at home then they would have anywhere else on the Iron Islands given how Casterly Rock was basically a castle built inside a giant mine of Gold.

If by the time the rebellion was over I still hadn't gained their fealty, I would reconsider my plan of adding them to my party of companions.

With Tyrion and Daven I had influence over the Westerlands, and they would help directly boost the influence both Cleos Frey and Samwell Tarly had over the Riverlands and Reach.

The triplets would help bring the Iron Islands into the fold.

But that's a matter for the future and I digress…

Even for the Iron Islands, Old Wyk seemed desolate, cold and miserable.

It was nestled in the middle of the archipelago, with Great wyk curved almost three-quarters of the way around it and Oakmont to the east.

Though relatively small, it was almost completely

covered by hills and black craggy mountains.

Despite the size and inhospitable nature of the island, three noble houses made their home here.

House Drumm, a branch of House Goodbrother and House Stonehouse.

The first being the primary target of Tywin Lannister once the Rebellion was in motion, and Lord Dunstan Drumm was known as the Lord of Old Wyk.

All fortresses here, as was typical here, were stone built and facing the sea.

But of course, I haven't come to Old wyk for castles or beautiful scenery.

It was for Nagga's Hill.

As we beached the 'Laughing Lion' on the shore beneath Shatterstone, the seat of another branch of House Goodbrother, I immediately noticed we weren't the only boat here.

On islands like this, the Ironborn used every safe landing spot available, and the shallow draught of their boats allowed it to be dragged ashore and beached with surprising ease.

Nagga's Hill rose up in the distance, jutting out into the sea.

As I made my way there, along the beach then the rocky pathway heading slowly upwards, it was worth retelling the fable of Nagga, after whom this place was named.

Nagga was a legendary Sea Dragon, the first Great Sea Dragon who ruled over the ocean during the Dawn Age.

And Nagga was ferocious, Krakens and leviathans were but dinner to her, and with a smash of her tail entire islands were said to be broken apart and drowned in the waters.

She lived for many years spreading fear through sailors and island dwellers alike, until she was defeated by the Grey King, who was so named because his hair, eyes, clothes and even his skin were gray.

It was perhaps not the most heroic color, as the iron Islanders seem to be able to make even their legendary heroes drab and depressing.

But he was a legendary hero, like how Bran the Builder was to House Stark.

With the help of the Drowned God, he slew Nagga here, on what was now known as Nagga's Hill.

From Nagga's teeth, the Drowned God supposedly fashioned a crown, and from her jawbone a throne.

The Grey King ruled from here henceforth.

Building his Hall here with Nagga's ribs forming the pillars, arching high into the sky.

Nagga's living fire kept the hall warm and he ruled for a thousand and seven years, watching over feasts and dispensing justice, before finally descending into the sea to sit at the right hand of the Drowned God himself.

And with his end, came the end of his hall.

The Storm God was believed to have snuffed out the fire, the ocean claimed the throne, and time destroyed the hall itself.

All that remained was what I saw here.

The grassy slopes of Nagga's Hill now before me, rose up from atop them like a giant crown, were Nagga's ribs still here.

Time and the ocean could destroy a mortal hall, but not the remains of the mighty Nagga.

They stood tall, separate and imposing.

Each one was wider than a mast, so wide no one could stretch their arms around it.

And cold as stone.

As I wandered among them, now gazing up at them in wonder pondering if I will one day be able to ȧssume such form with my Wild Shape, there was no doubt that they did seem to form the shape of a dragon's ribcage.

Although I have to say that any dragonbone I have ever seen has been black, or at least darker, not mottled white like this.

This color was more like, dare I say it, petrified weirwood.

The likes of which I've seen at Raventree Hall.

Not that there were any weirwood trees on the Iron Islands, there weren't many trees at all, which was a shame given my expectations to level up my title before the Rebellion.

And such a strange edifice as this had to be

something.

Perhaps the legend was true after all.

Sea Dragon's bones surely were different from Fire Dragon's bones.

Placing my hand over the alleged bones of a mythical Sea Dragon, I was disappointed with getting the same result as I had by entering the Starry Sept back at Oldtown.

[TITLE'S LEVEL INSUFFICIENT!]

Disappointing outcome but surprising potential.

Could I eventually Wild Shape into a Giant Sea Dragon Serpent?

It would make exploring the seas so much easier.

Perhaps I will have to wait even after reaching the point of taking the form of a Dragon.

Nonetheless, it was really promising.

In any case, the ceremonial and religious importance of this place did not end with the Grey King.

This was where, for centuries, Kingsmoot was held.

All the lords and captains gathered in one place to choose their new King.

The priests of the Drowned God would call the Kingsmoot and they would come.

Some put forward their claim, not based on birthright but on deeds done, treasure plundered and promises of future glory.

The man who won the acclaim of the gathered crowd was crowned King.

I've been quite disappointed with the denizens of these islands with their raiding, thralls and dank castles, but I will admit that this system had its merits.

Not that I find it better than the monarchical system of the continent, which suited my plans for the future much better.

But still…

A ruler chosen by popular acclaim, albeit with a rather limited suffrage, rather simply than by birthright.

It's a radical idea though.

Not that they have stuck with this idea for the whole of their history of course, as my next visit would show.

However, this time I will have to travel alone, since being anywhere near Pyke after my memorable encounter with Asha Greyjoy would be the same as asking for problems.

At least more than I already did.

Thankfully, I finally had someone I could trust on Clegane with matters like covering my absence with some excuse like I was busy writing a message for my Grandfather or something like that.

And I also had four of my best Legionnaires to take care of the Triplets until then, I'm sure they could give some great first impressions of what my Royal Legion was.

—————————————————————

Once again I was back in a boat, with salt on my tongue and the wind buffeting the ship (I sneaked inside) constantly.

But you know what, I was actually beginning to enjoy life at the sea.

It wasn't much different from traveling around the mainland, especially since I could entertain myself by taking a dip and practice with my swimming forms or roam around the sky as a flying animal.

Perhaps it also helped that I was always capable of telling where the north was, which mitigated the sensation of sailing in circles.

Some sailors enjoyed listening to my tales, but what really got them was the song I remembered from my previous life.

"My mother told me…" I began singing while disguised with my First level spell. "…someday I will buy…galleys with good oars… sail to distant shores."

While I made a pause, not a single voice broke the silence.

"My mother told me, someday I will buy…" I was finally joined by other voices shouting 'BUY!'. "…galleys with good oars…sail to distant shores. Stand up on the prow, noble baroque I steer…"

"STEADY!" Others shouted.

"…steady course to the haven. Hew many foe-men. Hew many foe-men." I concluded and let the others sang in my place.

And so the crowd of Ironmen began singing. "My mother told me… someday I will buy…galleys with good oars… sail to distant shores…"

As expected, the Ironborn sailing this ship were apparently oblivious to the conditions or perhaps even enjoying them.

Before I set off from my retinue at the 'Laughing Lion', I was met with the option of extending my sea voyage even further into the unforgiving ocean.

One tended to think of the Iron Islands as being this archipelago in Ironman's bay, but eight days sail northwest of here, deep in the sunset sea, there were thirteen more islands central to them.

And the only one worthy of note really, was the Lonely Light, seat of House Farwynd of the Lonely Light.

It was the most westerly place in the known world, after this the sunset sea supposedly just kept going.

Many had attempted to sail that way to discover

what lied beyond, but none have ever returned.

There was, as the name suggested, a lighthouse there, fighting against the darkness.

But even the Ironborn admitted that it was as cut off a place as one could find in these lands, more suited to the seals and sea lions that live there than humans.

Interestingly enough, I've actually heard rumors of what appeared to be wargs living there.

But I eventually decided that it was not worth the fortnight or more of sailing just to see it, instead I sneaked inside a ship that was heading off around the south of Great Wyk and passed by Saltcliff.

This Island was the home to houses Saltcliffe and Sunderly, and was everything I have come to expect from the Iron Islands.

Bleak, craggy, almost treeless, with stone castles gazing out over the sea.

And as I passed by Saltcliffe, Pyke reared into view ahead of me.

Pyke was not the largest of these islands, that was Great Wyk, nor the richest or most populous, that was Harlaw.

It was not even the holiest or most historically significant, that was obviously Old Wyk.

But it was now the seat of political power, and that happened because of Aegon's invasion.

For that, House Greyjoy would be just one of many noble houses on these islands who claim to trace their ancestry back to the Grey King himself.

The King of the Iron Islands, or technically the King of the Isles and Rivers at the time, was

Harren Hoare, known as Harren the Black.

He spent little of his time actually here on these islands, instead in his latter days overseeing the construction of Harrenhal, the mightiest castle Westeros had ever seen.

It was completed at the very moment that Aegon and his sisterwives arrived on the mainland, intent on conquest.

Harren the Black defied them, and he, his heirs and his castle suffered the consequences.

That of course left a power vacuum in the Iron Islands, and the various Lords of the Iron Islands turned on each other, quarreling about who should take over.

But Aegon was not content with just ruling the mainland, he flew over to the Iron Islands and imposed his law there as well.

The squabbling Lords wisely bent the knee, and in return for their oaths of loyalty Aegon allowed them to choose their own ruling family.

They chose Vickon Greyjoy of Pyke, and the Greyjoys have ruled ever since.

The Greyjoys weren't the only noble family on Pyke of course.

As anyone could have no doubt noticed during a brief journey here, there really were quite a lot of noble families here for such a small land area.

There was house Wynch of Iron Holt on the northern shore of the island and in the shadow of Pyke Castle itself, House Botley of Lordsport.

And it was the harbor of Lordsport that the ship I sneak inside was pulling into now.

Although to talk of Lordsport as just the seat of House Botley was really not to do it justice.

This was actually the largest settlement in all the Iron Islands, and the deepwater harbor that provided safe anchorage for those wishing to travel on to Castle Pyke and the Lord Reaper of

the Iron Islands.

And perhaps it was the size of this town that has allowed it to diversify a little away from the

hand-to-mouth fishing and seabased industries that predominated almost everywhere else.

Here instead, they took great pride in their blacksmithing, a walk through the streets here was accompanied by a cacophony of clangs and

bangs from smiths beating swords into shape, forging brėȧstplates (or if there wasn't a rebellion on the horizon, even something not warlike).

Although the out of ordinary busy atmosphere of this place betrayed their current state of preparing for war.

Even the look on everyone's eyes and casual discussion amongst them showed a certain level of eagerness for battle and glory.

Although the most notable thing about this town was how old it all was, which would certainly soon change.

The settlement itself had been here a long time, but during the soon-to-be short-lived Greyjoy rebellion against the rule of Robert Baratheon, my father's forces would land here and burn it all to the ground.

Curiously, House Botley's castle, which sat on top of the hill keeping a watchful eye over the town, was one of the (if not the only) castles on these islands not made from stone, but instead timber and wattle.

So it will probably burn just as easily as the houses of the small folk below.

But once the rebellion was quashed and the Iron Islanders left alone once more to rebuild their town, I'm actually expecting them to not just

replicate what was currently here.

Instead of this old timber and wattle castle, in the near future I expected to be raised to a square squat stone castle.

The inn and judging from the noises emanating from it, a brothel on the harbor's edge, might also grow at least twice the size after being rebuilt.

Though I fear the Sept might not be rebuilt, since most wouldn't care that much in maintaining the Faith of the Seven here.

Perhaps I might save it somehow.

Or at least order it to be rebuilt after everything was set and done.

Regardless, all in all, it was an intriguing insight

into the priorities of the Iron Islanders these days, not just what they have inherited as in so many other towns.

The soon to be new sight of buildings and the slightly more cosmopolitan population due to its harbor and relative proximity to the mainland, will mark this town out as different.

But make no mistake, the Ironborn culture were a

strong one, and it was as all permeating here as anywhere.

—————————————————————

The walk up from Lordsport to Pyke Castle was not a long one, but it was all uphill and it would be enough to have anyone crested the brow of the hill slightly out of breath before seeing the castle.

I personally was indifferent to be on solid ground for once after all this island hopping.

Suppose that in many ways, Castle Pyke reflected the obdurate nature of its inhabitants.

It was like most Ironborn castles, originally built on the cliff edge, looking out to sea.

But it was an old castle.

No one seemed to know exactly how old, but it was surely millennia.

Although a well built and well maintained castle like this one would stand against the elements almost ad infinitum, exposed shorelines in stormy weathers did not, and the coastline here had eroded quite significantly since the castle was built.

One might expect a pragmatic or flexible

family to move.

House Harlow moved when their castle got a bit damp for example, but House Greyjoy stayed and castle Pyke adapted to the new and changing coastline.

It was not easy to work out exactly what the original castle would have looked like, but what remained was a series of keeps and towers perched precariously atop a row of sea stacks joined by bridges.

Make no mistake, this was a fully functioning castle, not a ruin.

Whenever new ground collapsed underneath

the castle, the Greyjoy's just rebuild and adapt.

At some point surely one or more of these remaining sea stacks would collapse like the rest have, I just hope it wasn't while I visit.

But whenever it did happen, I suspect that the Greyjoys would still just shrug, build another bridge and carry on.

The result however was, it had to be said, really quite magnificent.

The towers were built from the same rock as the island and seen to grow up out of the sea stacks in a perfect union of raw natural beauty and human engineering.

The grey black rock of the sea stacks merging into the grey black rock of the castle, where one becomes the other hidden by the massive green lichen that spreaded over both.

Even after seeing a dozen or more of these very similar Ironborn castles, I could say with confidence that this stood alone in terms of its visual impact.

But before I managed to sneak inside these sea stacks, there was a curtain wall to contend with.

In truth, the majority of the castle still lay on the mainland.

50 acres lay on the exposed headland, encircled by a thick tall wall that extended in a crescent from cliff to cliff, before circling out into the sea itself, rearing up out of the water to protect the first of the island stacks.

But as much as I say that these 50 acres of mainland were part of the castle, they felt more like a farm.

There were sheep here, goats and all the other livestock one would expect to provide for a large castle.

The stables were here as well, as were the kennels.

In short, the smell was very farm like, even more

pungent than the ever-present sea salt.

And talking of the smell, it was noticeable that the wall protected this part of the castle from the mainland, but not from the sea.

So the sea winds rushed in relentlessly.

It was almost impossible to escape them completely on these islands, but the heart of the castle lay beyond the imposing gatehouse, which was flanked by six towers, three on each side.

All this was like the rest of the castle further out constructed from the same weathered dark drab stone.

Although I expected some of these towers to change soon enough, becoming the clearest reminder here of the failed Greyjoy rebellion, for it will be here that Castle Pike will be breached.

However, if anyone spoke about it here after it all ended, they should lower their voices, for it will also be a very humiliating defeat for the iron Islanders.

And for House Greyjoy in particular.

Balon Greyjoy, thinking that the new Baratheon rule might not be as strong as the old Targaryen, will declare independence and have himself crowned king of the Iron Islands rather than

just the Lord paramount.

However, victory followed by immediate loss at Lannisport and Seaguard were canonically followed swiftly by a series of crushing defeats.

My father's army would sweep across the Iron Islands before closing in here.

After razing Lordsport to the ground, this castle would be the Iron Islanders last line of defense.

But as strong as it was, it was no match for superiorly advanced siege weapons that brought down the southern tower and huge sections of the wall, not to mention Balon's second son.

Stormed through the breach and eventually Lord Greyjoy had to bend the knee once more.

This might seem like a humbling experience, but it actually showed the enduring independence of these islands, in spirit if not always politically.

The iron Islanders saw themselves as different and special, set apart from the mainlanders.

Tracing the path and making my way over the great stone bridge onto the first island, rising up on top of this was the Great Keep.

Once the center of the castle, now on the first of three sea stacks that could reasonably be called islands.

All of the island was covered by the massive stone keep, right up to its vertiginous edges.

And the centerpiece of the keep was the long Great Hall.

Stepping inside here (while avoiding being noticed), where the Lord of the Iron

Islands held counsel was deliberately meant to be an intimidating experience.

The dais from which judgments and justice were

dispensed was a long way away, and the

walking here with one's own footsteps echoing off the stone walls and smoke from the fireplaces filling one's lungs was supposed to be a nerve-wracking one.

But at the far end was the sea stone chair, my second view of the unnamed oily black stone

that was dotted across the known world.

Emerging into our times fully formed and shaped, but without any rational explanation.

It made me wonder what type of magical properties this material had.

Sadly my Observe skill wasn't much of a help this time.

But Detect Magic ȧssured me it was actually magical, possibly a product of transmutation.

This throne in particular, carved into the shape of a Kraken, was said to have been found fully formed on the shore of Old Wyk by the very first Ironmen.

Perhaps some relic of a long forgotten parallel to the kingdom of Atlantis.

In any case, It was used since the earliest of days as the throne of the king over the Iron Islands, hence it now being here in Pyke held by the Greyjoys.

And it is always a king of the Iron Islands, by the way, never a queen or an ungodly man, for the seastone chair (with anthropomorphic certainty) would not allow that apparently.

It's symbolism now was undoubted, but as to who originally carved it, from what material and why…well anyone was welcome to take their pick from any number of theories.

Perhaps it was the mythical Deep Ones, the Drowned God himself or some long dead race from beyond the sunset sea.

Some claim it was just the First Iron Men themselves carving a mysterious rock that fell from the sky.

No one really knew for sure though.

But moving on…

After briefly sighting a young Theon Greyjoy joy being bullied by his older, Maron Greyjoy, the next island was the home to Guest Keep, another sizable structure and where guests would be spending the night.

Thanks to my Detect Magic spell and Mental Map perk pinpointing it as the current entrance to this castle's Magical Dungeon, I had prepared myself to return here by the end of my tour.

Access from the Great Keep was via a covered stone walkway, which I will admit allowed the impression of this being an integrated castle rather than just a series of buildings on disparate

islands.

I was two islands in and I had yet to venture outside.

And this, I have to say, was one of the more inviting buildings.

It was still bloomie, and if they didn't close the shutters the wind still raced through the chambers here, but it was at least well furnished.

The only thing that really raised alarm bells here was it's more colloquial name, the Bloody Keep.

This was a memory from when guests from the mainland, the sons of the River King no less, were slaughtered here in their beds, breaking every kind of rule about guests right.

The crime was so horrific that its memory still lingered a millennium later.

Sounds about the same thing as the Red Wedding itself.

I will return here to unlock another Great House's castle, but to the next island and its tower were probably more my kind of people.

For the next tower was the kitchen keep, as the aroma of fish stew and fresh mead hung heavy in the air here.

It was a heaving throng of common people bustling this way and that, serving their overlords and taking solace here among their own.

I haven't mentioned the iron Islanders diet much during my travels, because it was as uninspiring as most of their castles.

The bread was dry and hard, made for withstanding long sea voyages.

The stews were nourishing, but lacking in spices or much flavoring, and the drinks…well… let's just say that the iron Islanders weren't famed for the subtlety of their palate.

There was enough here to quench the thirst and appetite of a weary traveler, but nothing to single out for particular praise.

Though I was pleased with some ingredients I managed to get a hold of during my brief visit, while also managing to glimpse at the sight of Lady Greyjoy ordering the servants around.

Probably at her best before the death of her older sons.

This kind of reminded me of Lyssa Tully's case.

Not saying I helped a lot by having Littlefinger die that much earlier and leading her father to disown her, but I take solace in the fact that she won't be manipulated by the one she loved the most, especially now as a Silent Sister.

But I wonder if I could do better for Lady Alannys Greyjoy.

Food for thought.

At this point though, I should probably note the bridges that I have not taken.

These first three islands lied close together and were connected by covered stone bridges, but the sea stacks and the towers atop them further out were connected to these three islands

by wood and rope bridges that swung precariously to and from in the wind.

I'm sure they were still safe for daily use, but there wasn't anything worth the risk on the other side, only a few storehouses or other ȧssorted outbuildings.

The only rope bridge I will venture across though, was this one before me, and even this was not a pleasant experience.

The spray of the sea swirled around me and the bridge swung with every step I took.

I know that one false step or unexpected gust of wind would lead to a precipitous drop into the

rock-strewn sea below, unless I Wild Shape into a flying animal.

But I was content with stepping carefully for now.

On the far side was the Sea Tower, the furthest out of all of these stacks the waves crashed remorselessly against it.

It was a dreary tower, though colorful in its own way.

Its base was white from salt residues, further up it turned green with the ever-present lichen and at its summit it was charged black from the fireplaces that stood lit throughout the night.

The entrance to the tower at the end of the bridge was a moldy wooden door, its hinges had rusted with age.

This felt like an unloved annex, but it was far from it.

Climbing the tight spiral staircase and one reached Lord Greyjoy solar, and this glimpse into his personal private rooms was revelatory to me.

Throughout this journey around the Iron Islands, part of me has wondered whether the Iron Islanders simply didn't care much about their

living conditions.

They were universally cold, they were wet, they were dank.

But now standing here on the threshold of the

rooms of the most powerful man in the Iron Islands, I was starting to finally understand.

He could have furnished this in any way he wanted, all of the noble Lords here could have furnished their castles how they wished, but he and they chose this.

The wind rushing through the open windows, the smell and taste of sea spraying on their tongue, views out over the open ocean and a single smoking brassiere providing warmth.

The iron Islanders were not like the mainlanders, they wanted different things.

Even when on land, they wanted to feel the kiss of the sea.

But enough sightseeing for now, I had a dungeon that was most likely bound to make me fight underwater.

—————————————————————

I had plenty of alternatives now that my Wild Shapes natural weapons worked better than regular steel.

My best opinion for this occasion being the Reef Shark, since the Lizard-Lion wasn't optimal for saltywater.

The main benefits of playing the Shark role were the higher mobility in the water and high damage with a single bite.

Not forgetting its broken ability of keen bloodsense and electroreception.

Which were basically a massive boost to my Mental Map that marked any trail of blood and signaled any sort of movement in a massive area.

Though the main drawbacks being the lack of swim bladder and gill flaps, that hindered my buoyancy control and passive regeneration of stamina while standing still, it wasn't that much of a detriment specifically to combat encounters.

But of course…

Most plans never survive contact with the enemy.

Instead of the expected undead hordes of sea zombies, I was faced with queer mishaped race of half men half seacreature.

Observing them I got some useful information.

{MERROW, LARGE MONSTROCITY}

{LV - 25}

DEF: 25

HP: 200

SPEED: 10 ft., SWIM 40 ft.

POW: 23

MOB: 28

END: 22

INT: 20

SENSES: DARKVISION 60 ft. (Passive perception 10 ft)

LANGUAGES: It understands Abyssal and Aquan but can't speak it.

Merrow are undersea merfolk-like monsters from the Abyss who terrorized the waters. Living in undersea caves, they filled their abodes with treasures and used the rotted corpses of dead creatures tied to kelp to mark their territory. A merrow was often armed with a harpoon they stole from sailors, but they also fought with their sharp claws and fanged bite.

Merrow were created when a tribe of merfolk was exposed to dark magic that drove them all insane. The king of this tribe demanded a blood sacrifice to their Abyssal deity. The corrupted merfolk slowly transformed into the monsters now known as merrow over multiple generations there.

Oh, fuċk yeah.

Things just got real.

My Mental Map immediately informed me of the creatures that were nearby, pinpointing the hostile creatures' location, so before they got the chance to notice me I rushed at one overly aggressive sea creature's gills with my magically enhanced rows of teeth.

Thankfully, unlike Undeads and Plants they were vulnerable to critical wounds like this, bleeding heavily after a few bites.

And with their numbers not being anywhere near what I used to deal with, more than make up for their toughness in battle.

In these deep waters I reigned supreme, even without my Valyrian steel weapons and magical spells, so I tore the screeching Marrows to shreds.

The Reef Shark might be a bit on the small side compared to others of its kind, but my skinny body and flexible cartilaginous skeleton allowed me to instantly twist and turn, so it was just as deadly as any shark in the ocean would be against regular fish.

If not much deadlier thanks to my magical nature.

I also had special senses that allowed me to better read water currents to find my prey.

Whenever I attacked, between quick uses of my Octopus shape to block view with clouds of my natural ink or simply camouflage myself for a brief moment, my jaw worked like a machine and ripped massive pieces of flesh from the Merrows' guts.

Which by the way was way tastier than the rotten flesh of the undead.

The fast harpoon swings of the most astute Marrows were either easily dodged or used as a great opportunity to test the enhanced magical defenses of my Wild Shapes.

Suffice to say I had another great experience dungeon delving, mostly because of its higher level of difficulty compared to the usual minor Lord's castle.

After making a dozen of bloody messes and deactivating some stupid traps meant to break the concentration of any spell caster that was providing waterbreathing buff to their party…

Which by the way served to reinforce that this wouldn't be a great experience to put Sandor, Daven and Tyrion through.

… I finally reached the underwater treasure room.

Activating the small opening in the wall before me, led me to what appeared to be a ship graveyard covered in reef and sunken ships.

The chamber itself was just as large as the one under Highgarden, though clearly with an entirely different theme.

I noticed the upper silver ring lighting up a small signal to inform me I had unlocked Pyke, ignoring it and the mosaic tiles on the ceiling for now, I focused on something else.

Just as before, no ċhėst could be found in the center of the Treasure Room, but a massive black stoned monolith (similar to the seastone chair) could be seen from where I stood.

It had a cryptic message carved on it that said: Aberrant Secrets.

The knowledge it gave seemed to help me make a minor breakthrough with my study in search of arcane knowledge.

Especially with my Mind Sliver cantrip and the prospect of dealing Psychic damage.

I must confess that, after looting the Magical dungeon under Harrenhal, I was expecting another book about necromancy.

The chamber wasn't completely submerged in water, so the air pocket near the ceiling had the segment that I deducted would serve as a portal.

And the walls around it were completely covered with massive iron veins, reminiscent of how the Rock was filled with golden veins.

All things considered, another Great House's magical dungeon unlocked.

King's Landing, Riverrun, Casterly Rock, Highgarden… and now Pyke.

Less than half left.

As I leave the dungeon, I'm immediately greeted with the view of the sea from the Guest Tower merging with the sky on the horizon.

From the look of things it was still dawn, so Sandor must already be awake and expecting for me to return.

Breathing in the cold air while standing at the highest viewpoint in all of Pyke, I grinned before doing my best impression of the Leap of Faith.

Feeling the wind strongly blowing against my face as I watched the waves crashing against rocks growing closer and closer, I shifted into the shape of a majestic Griffin and soared upwards at the last second away from the island.

Any Ironborn lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the first time I ȧssume this form would certainly be unable to be taken seriously by his fellowman.

By the way, my senses were driven into such overdrive in this particular form, that my sight allowed me to actually differentiate one far away sailor from another while flying at superspeeds.

I really enjoyed the feeling of being a few steps away from reaching the might of the dragons that allowed the Targaryens to conquer an entire continent.

Half bird of prey and half lion, I had the best of both worlds since I knew I could fly much faster than any bird and kill a warhorse with a single fell swoop.

Regular Griffin's beak and talons… I mean, claws were supposedly capable of easily piercing gambeson, riveted mail and even brigandine.

Though castle-forged steel plate armor would require a little bit of commitment on their part.

But my enhanced Wild Shape made even that an effortless endeavor to me.

In a fraction of the time it would take for a longship to take me, I finally reached Gerion's ship.

In order to not start any troublesome rumors before the time was favorable, especially with the Spider still being an influential player of the game, I decided to ȧssume the shape of a regular crow and landed on the 'Laughing Lion' without anyone noticing.

Sandor was doing as he was told and made Gerion believe that I was busy inside his ship all along.

Landing before Clegane, I noticed him squinting his eyes in suspicion.

After making sure no one else would notice, I turned back to my human form right before my Sworn Shield.

"You should always have an open mind, Clegane." I told him while faking disappointment. "Things no longer are what they appear to be."

"You better never turn into a chicken without warning me." Sandor snickered. "So, what are your orders, my prince?"

"Inform Gerion to lead us back to Casterly Rock before winter finally comes." I said while blinking to better adjust my eyesight. "Again."

—————————————————————

(05/01/2022)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask or suggest, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

** About the MC's Wild Shape perk, here are some examples of each level he has already unlocked.

1)Ant, Bee, Butterfly, Spider, Seahorse.

2)Fish, Frog, Dove, Rat, Swallow, Squirrel, Raven, Crow, Cat, Goose, Duck, Rooster, Crane, Owl, Bat.

3)Salamander, Octopus, Otter, Little Valyrian, Scorpion, Serpent, Falcon, Turtle, Fox, Beaver, Vulture, Swan, Hawk, Eagle, Ape and Crocodile.

4)Hound, Sheep, Goat, Wolf, Dolphin, Boar, Pony, Mule, Zorses, Unicorn, Steed, Stag, Porcupine, Panther, Leopard, Shadowcat, Tiger.

5)Reef Shark, Camels, Brown bear, Auroch, Direwolf, Hrakkar, Frost spider, Elephant, Walking Lizard, Lizard-Lion, Basilisk, Griffin.

I'm open to adding new species to this list if they don't strand too far away from the examples already there.