Winter had fallen over all of Westeros, and the Westerlands were no exception. Thanks to their southern location, the mountain ranges that blocked the cold winds, and their shared border with the Riverlands, the climate here was milder than in the North, and the abundance of resources meant there was no need for the people to gather for warmth. As a result, customs and policies like Winter Town never formed in these parts.

Even so, many well-off landowners who lacked castles of their own would choose to temporarily relocate to Lannisport as winter approached, relying on the city’s rich and varied strategic reserves to comfortably survive the harsh season. This caused the population of the only major city in the Westerlands to surge every winter, only returning to normal slowly once spring began.

This seasonal gathering was even more pronounced this year.

The explosive political scandal caused by King Robert’s illegitimate children and the ensuing War of Six Kingdoms against the Lannisters had dealt a heavy blow to the Westerlands. Yet the Lannister family not only refrained from using their wealth to help vassals in crisis but also used the opportunity to enforce “gold control,” tightening their grip on the region. As a result, most of the remaining gold in the Westerlands had been moved into the Lannister treasury under these new controls, and nearly all the prominent great houses were forced to relocate their families into the affluent districts of Lannisport under the guise of protection, leaving only stewards to manage their ancestral lands.

Lannisport’s already dominant position as a political and economic center had risen even further, and even in the bleak depths of winter, messengers and soldiers could still be seen hurrying through the streets and alleys.

At that very moment, in the heart of the city that had yet to fall dormant, in a tall building adorned with a golden lion sigil hanging above the doorway—the Lannister Bank headquarters—Tyrion sat in a reception room, bouncing his leg as he reviewed account books, waiting for a particular guest to arrive.

—

After the enormous crisis of being besieged by six kingdoms abruptly ended with Robert’s death and Renly’s usurpation, House Lannister had managed to stay out of the ensuing chaos that swept across the Seven Kingdoms. Both the northern and southern factions were focused on dealing with each other, assuming the Lannisters had been so battered and drained that they were no longer worth exploiting or wooing. As such, neither side invaded the Westerlands again nor forced them to pick a side.

So for the past two years, while the conflict between the two great alliances raged on, the Lannisters remained in their ancestral seat, quietly making money, licking their wounds, gathering strength, and secretly preparing for their return to power.

This “lay low and recover” strategy was not without its problems. To the west, their Ironborn neighbors across the sea, led by Euron Greyjoy, had launched repeated raids under the pretense that the Westerlands had failed to send troops to support King Stannis in quelling rebellion. They pillaged and burned along Ironman’s Bay and the western coastline, inflicting further suffering on the already devastated Westermen.

It wasn’t until Tywin called on all Westerlanders to unite and resist these foreign invaders, and Tyrion, with his proposal and leadership, established a comprehensive and effective coastal defense system, that the tide began to turn. After several clashes with mixed results, the Ironborn pirates deemed the raids unprofitable and turned their attention to plundering other regions’ shores instead.

Peace had barely returned when two days ago, the patrolling militia near Dreadfort issued another warning. Traces of Ironborn warships had been sighted along the coast.

The Westermen, still reeling from past traumas, treated this as a major threat. But by the time the garrison and militias from Dreadfort and nearby villages had gathered and rushed to the reported location, they didn’t find the expected Ironborn raiding party. Instead, after a thorough search, they discovered a woman in a nearby grove.

A woman with a special identity.

—

A knock at the door interrupted the dwarf’s thoughts. A guard’s voice came from outside. “Lord Tyrion, she’s here.”

“Bring her in.”

The door opened, and two guards escorted the special female prisoner inside. They pushed her into a chair across the table from Tyrion and cuffed her wrists to the armrests before saluting and exiting.

The room fell silent again. Tyrion studied the woman opposite him with a puzzled expression, then spoke, his tone matching his look.

“Asha Greyjoy, have my men mistreated you or neglected you in any way?”

It wasn’t that he wanted to play the gentleman to put her at ease, but rather, the Kraken’s Daughter’s current appearance made him genuinely suspicious. The once proud and spirited Princess of the Iron Islands now looked pale and listless. Although she bore no signs of injury, hunger, or cold, she sat slumped in her chair, as if all the bones had been drawn from her body. She couldn’t even sit up straight.

He had given clear orders to ensure she was treated well.

It wouldn’t be a major issue if an enemy’s female kin were mistreated, but if his own orders—as director of the Lannister Bank and second-in-command of House Lannister—were disregarded, that would be unacceptable.

“No. Thank you for your concern.” Asha forced herself to lift her head. Even her voice sounded weak. “Why isn’t your father seeing me?”

“My old man is very busy.” Tyrion gave a small smile, reassured by her reply. “He had the Maester send a letter to Pyke demanding your ransom, and then he completely forgot about you. After interrogating the men who captured you and learning what happened, I must admit, he was right to do so. No matter how I look at it, you don’t seem like someone who could bring us any real benefit. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?”

“What happened?” Asha gave a bleak smile and shook her head. “Where do you want me to start? Ask something more specific.”

Tyrion realized his posture was a bit improper. He put his leg down, leaned forward, and with some effort lifted the wine jug to pour her a drink… only to remember she was cuffed and couldn’t raise her hands. He slapped his forehead and gave up, then got to the point.

“As far as I know, you were captured by the Night’s Watch at Deepwood Motte and imprisoned in The Gift. How did you end up near Dreadfort and arrive by sea?”

“I escaped from the Night’s Watch harbor when they let their guard down.”

“Ha!” Tyrion didn’t hide his disbelief, but he didn’t press the point either. It wasn’t the most important detail. “As Balon’s daughter, you must have intended to return to the Iron Islands to seize power. So I’m curious. If you succeeded, you should be Queen of the Iron Islands by now. If you failed, how are you still alive and free?”

If not revealing that Aegor had let her go was out of loyalty and a desire not to betray someone she once considered a comrade, then on matters that didn’t implicate others, Asha, who had just suffered the greatest blow of her life, lacked the strength to lie.

“I tried to assassinate Euron, but he saw through it and imprisoned me. My uncle, Rodrik the Reader, came and rescued me.”

“Oh? If I’m not mistaken, Euron is your uncle. And you still tried to commit kinslaying?”

“He is my uncle. And also my father’s murderer. A usurper of the Seastone Chair. He’s leading the Ironborn down a doomed path. I won’t rest until he’s dead.”

What should have been a furious declaration of vengeance came out in a dull, lifeless monotone, as if she were reciting a line by rote. Even Tyrion had no sarcastic retort for that.

“Alright, so the militia’s report of ‘two ships exchanging fire, one sinking the other’ was really a sea battle between Euron Greyjoy and Rodrik Harlaw, an internal Ironborn conflict, wasn’t it?” The dwarf paused, then couldn’t help but ask, “Forgive me. I’m just a little man unfamiliar with Ironborn ships. All sailboats look the same to me. So, who ended up sinking whom?”

Who sank whom? Asha’s lips trembled. Her mouth opened slightly, as if to answer, but tears had already begun to roll down her cheeks.

…

A few mornings ago, Asha had just escaped Pyke aboard the Sea Song when she was awakened by the sound of running footsteps above deck. As a seasoned sailor and captain, she immediately recognized the sound of people frantically dashing across the deck. Alert, she sat up, dressed quickly, and went up to the upper deck. She soon found her uncle at the stern, observing the sea behind them through a Myrish lens.

Rodrik handed her the lens without a word. Asha raised it and looked toward the distant horizon, where she quickly spotted the ship that made her heart sink. Against the pale sky, the Serenity’s dark red hull was long and low. Its pitch-black sails, billowing in the wind, looked like a hole torn in the sky. Even from afar, she could feel the cruelty and menace it exuded.

For some unknown reason, Euron’s monstrous warship had correctly guessed the Sea Song’s escape route and was now chasing at an astonishing speed.

Seeing her niece’s tense expression, Rodrik chuckled and told her to look forward through the lens.

In the narrow, circular view of the Myrish lens, the outline of the shoreline could already be seen faintly.

“I don’t know how that madman tracked the Sea Song, and I admire how he can sail like a demon, but he’s one step too late,” the Lord of Harlaw declared with confidence. And he was right. By the time the small boat had rowed Asha ashore and returned to the Sea Song, the Serenity had only just come into view. When it finally reached Rodrik’s ship, Asha was already gone, hiding in a grove near the beach, torn between crossing the Westerlands or surrendering to the Lannisters.

But then she witnessed a scene that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The Serenity, upon catching up, didn’t slow down. It rammed the Sea Song from the side. Its thick, reinforced ram tore into the hull, smashing oars, ripping apart decks and beams, and even bringing down the main mast. It nearly split the ship in two. After a brief but clearly bloody boarding skirmish, Rodrik’s ship—one of the few people in the world she still trusted—was reduced to a flaming wreck, broken in half. The Serenity turned and sailed away, leaving the Sea Song to sink slowly beneath the waves.

The Sea Song and Serenity were roughly equal in size and crew. In theory, their combat power should have been similar. But Rodrik had no will to fight. He had planned to confess his mistakes and resign. How could he have been prepared for this madness?

The outcome had never been in doubt.

Rodrik the Reader, wise all his life, had underestimated Euron’s insanity and paid for it with his life.

Among the Ironborn, ships were prized more than gold, and a main warship like the Sea Song was even more valuable. That Euron sank such a vessel meant there would be no survivors. It would vanish completely from Ironborn memory, leaving only questions and silence. Only Asha knew the truth.

Whether Euron sank the ship in a fit of rage or to silence those who had seen his demonic eye, she would never know. She only knew her naive assassination attempt had not only failed to stop the Ironborn from descending into darkness, it had cost her the last person on the islands who truly cared for her.

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep