The Iron Islands' Dilemma

Several pieces of raven-delivered parchment lay scattered across the tabletop, bearing news from King's Landing in a maester's neat hand. Some were from years ago, others more recent. Yulon slowly sorted through the intelligence brought by raven, arranging it in chronological order.

The Duskendale Rebellion: Aerys II was taken captive, and Barristan Selmy rescued his king single-handedly. The king was freed, but his mind suffered severe damage.

Aftermath: The Mad King (the maester's reports tactfully described him as "His Grace being in poor spirits") grew deeply suspicious of Lord Tywin Lannister's loyalty, believing he had deliberately delayed coming to his aid and harbored treasonous intentions. A rift opened between them.

Supplementary note: The letter also mentioned that, to counter "the ubiquitous plots and betrayals," His Grace Aerys II had recruited a eunuch named Varys from across the Narrow Sea, in Lys, and appointed him Master of Whisperers. The man was known for his secretive methods and called the "Eight-Eyed Spider." He had begun weaving a vast intelligence network spanning the royal court and even the Seven Kingdoms, earning the Mad King's deep trust.

Latest: The Mad King rejected Lord Tywin's proposal for a marriage between Prince Rhaegar and Lady Cersei Lannister, announcing instead that the prince would be betrothed to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. Meanwhile, the Mad King had publicly mocked Tywin in court several times, calling him the "Servant King" and humiliating him to the utmost.

History... hadn't changed. That was good news! Yulon silently spoke to himself, tracing a finger over the name "Aerys II" on the parchment. The shadow of Duskendale in 273 AC had already fallen over the Dragon King, and the humiliating rejection of 275 AC had come right on schedule. Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West, whose sigil was a golden lion and whose power was immense, must by now have been seething with cold venom.

270 AC: Yulon Greyjoy was born.

273 AC: The Duskendale Rebellion. The Mad King was taken captive and rescued by Barristan. The Mad King grew suspicious of Tywin, and a rift opened between them.

275 AC: The Mad King rejected Lord Tywin's proposal for a marriage between Prince Rhaegar and Lady Cersei Lannister, announcing instead that the prince would be betrothed to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. He humiliated Tywin by calling him the "Servant King." The rift deepened.

281 AC: The Mad King forcibly inducted Jaime into the Kingsguard, depriving Tywin of his heir. The rift became irreparable.

282 AC: Rhaegar "abducted" Lyanna Stark. The Mad King brutally murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark. The War of the Usurper began!

283 AC: The Battle of the Trident (Rhaegar died). The Mad King buried Wildfire, intending to burn the city. Jaime the Kingslayer killed the king. Robert became king.

Yulon wrote the information in Chinese on the parchment, tapping lightly on 283 AC. Lysa, standing behind him, watched the unfamiliar writing Yulon had made, her face full of curiosity.

"275 to 283 AC. Eight years... Just eight years..." Yulon murmured, his small chest swelling with the anxiety and excitement of a grown conqueror. The War of the Usurper! The continent of Westeros would plunge into unprecedented chaos and bloodshed! This would be a heaven-sent opportunity for the Iron Islands to break free of the chains of poverty and make the Drowned God's name ring across the Seven Kingdoms! But first, the Iron Islands had to be strong enough to seize this opportunity, rather than be capsized in the storm.

His problem now was this: how could he make the most of these eight golden years, from 275 to 282 AC, to strengthen the Iron Islands?

Charles Kettering had once said, "A problem well stated is a problem half solved." Yulon sighed as he analyzed the Iron Islands' current situation, listing each problem on the parchment.

What the Iron Islands had: a powerful naval tradition and culture—the worship of the Drowned God and the spirit of the Old Way. Raiding was deeply ingrained in the people; warriors (the Ironborn) were known for their courage, cruelty, and fearlessness. The faith of the Drowned God sanctified plunder. The Ironborn were superb sailors: they had lived by the sea for generations, and had the finest sailors and navigators (familiar with the Narrow Sea and the Sunset Sea), skilled at sailing in rough waters. Their longship fleet was extensive, with plenty of vessels suited to raiding: fast, shallow-drafted, and maneuverable, they could venture into shallows and rivers.

The Iron Islands were geographically isolated, lying in the sea off the western coast of Westeros and surrounded by treacherous waters, making them easy to defend and difficult to attack. Invasion was extremely costly, and there was nothing to gain from it except stone and salt. No outside power had ever invaded the Iron Islands. The waters around the islands were also full of reefs, forming a natural barrier. Those unfamiliar with the sea lanes were likely to run aground and sink.

The Iron Islands had only three natural resources: iron ore, salt, and fish. Iron ore: Great Wyk in particular had rich deposits, which provided the foundation for weapons, tools, and some trade. Salt: Salt production was an important industry and commodity, though not as valuable as gold. Fishing: It provided the basic food supply (fish and seaweed).

The Ironborn were martial. Most men received combat training, and their people were fierce, making them formidable in boarding actions and hand-to-hand combat. Their warriors also had a fearlessness that the other six kingdoms lacked: their faith in the Drowned God made them less afraid of death than mainland soldiers.

But the Iron Islands lacked far more than they had, and it gave Yulon a splitting headache.

Little arable land: The soil was poor and rocky, and the climate harsh, making large-scale agriculture impossible. Ninety percent of their food was imported or taken in raids. So—without grain, what could they eat?

Insufficient timber: A lack of quality wood hindered shipbuilding. Shipbuilding timber had to be imported or taken in raids. So—without wood, how could they build ships?

They had iron ore, but no blacksmiths to turn it into equipment and weapons.

Limited population: The total population of the islands was far smaller than that of any major mainland kingdom. Their manpower was limited, and they couldn't sustain a large land war or a lengthy occupation. With such a small population, they couldn't fight a war of attrition, either.

Internal disunity: The major islands (Pike Island, Great Wyk, Old Wick Island, Harlaw, and others) were ruled by different families (the Greyjoys, the Drumms, the Stonehouses, the Harlaws, and others). Though they nominally submitted to the "King of the Sea Stones" (the Greyjoys), they competed and feuded among themselves. The Old Way emphasized personal valor and plunder, leaving them with little cohesion—they weren't united!

No administrative system: The seven islands were scattered, so there was no efficient bureaucracy for taxation, logistics, or intelligence. They were disorganized.

Their remote location left them with little ability to obtain vital intelligence from the mainland, such as court politics and large-scale troop movements. They could easily be overlooked by mainland powers or receive news too late. They were behind on information and couldn't seize the initiative.

The fire crackled in the hearth, lighting Yulon Greyjoy's mismatched eyes as he contemplated. Last, and most important of all, every plan going forward required the King of the Iron Islands—his father—to take the lead. How to persuade him was the greatest challenge.

His father, Kolen Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands, had a vision that wasn't without merit. The Iron Islands needed to change, to escape the poverty and isolation that clung to them like a bone-deep sickness. His goals—to join the Seven Kingdoms, end the bloody Old Way, and embrace peace and prosperity—seemed so bright and right.

The problem, however, was that his father wanted to get there in a single leap.

"Free every slave on the islands?" Yulon sighed silently, his fingers tapping unconsciously against the cold stone table. The idea itself shone with benevolent light, but reality was a field of treacherous reefs. The iron mines on Pike Island, the volcanic mines on Great Wyk, the salt pans on Saltcliffe... Most of the labor sustaining the Iron Islands' fragile lifeline was performed by slaves. If they were freed, who would swing the heavy picks? Who would toil under the scorching sun in the salt pans? Did his father expect the Ironborn lords, accustomed to paying the iron price and commanding longships, to immediately roll up their sleeves and start mining ore and salt? The economy would collapse in an instant, more completely than any storm could destroy it.

"Abandon the Old Way entirely?" That would mean cutting into the very foundations. Yulon admitted that the Old Way was barbaric and unsustainable, and one of the roots of the Iron Islands' poverty. But his father seemed to have forgotten—or underestimated—what paying the iron price meant to most Ironborn families. It wasn't just a way to survive; it was an "honor" woven into their blood and part of their faith. To suddenly cut the economic lifeline that had sustained them for thousands of years would be like draining four-fifths of the Iron Islands' blood at once. Where would the anger and confusion of captains and sailors who had lost their targets for raiding and their "legitimate" sources of income be directed? Surely not at the Lannisters' gold mines, but at Pyke itself.

"Invite priests of the Faith of the Seven to the islands? Spread the faith of the Seven?" Yulon had no faith—or perhaps he believed in every god. Whichever god brought him benefits was a good god. The faith of the Drowned God had taken root in this salt-soaked land for thousands of years! It had shaped the Ironborn's souls, their Ark Maxim, their way of life, even their unique understanding of death. Did his father really think that a few priests in silk robes, clutching copies of the Seven-Pointed Star and reciting prayers on the reefs, could make the Drowned Priests who had just baptized newborns in cold seawater bow their heads? Could they make Ironborn who were used to battling the waves and seeking glory through plunder turn to the Father and the Mother in pious prayer? It was absurd! Besides, even if the Ironborn truly changed their faith, what then? The deep-rooted prejudices of Westeros would see it as a hollow performance, a clumsy disguise worn by a savage nest of pirates. Would the nobles of King's Landing, the knights of the Reach, and the lords of the North suddenly open their arms and embrace the Ironborn as pious brothers just because they had adopted the faith of the Seven? No. They would only laugh, or grow even more wary—wondering what new trick these "iron sea monsters in sheep's clothing" were up to.

Opening the ports was one of the few truly wise ideas in his father's plan. The Iron Islands needed ties with the outside world and the lifeblood of trade. Yet prejudice was a mountain even higher and colder than Blacktyde Isle! On every merchant's mental map of the Seven Kingdoms, the words "Iron Islands" had always been labeled "pirate lair," "dangerous waters," and "one-way trip." His father could open the ports and erect lighthouses, but what merchant ship laden with goods would dare stake its fortune and its crew's lives on the Ironborn's "goodwill"? Who could guarantee that their ship wouldn't be charged the iron price in the night? Who could trust that the Ironborn on the docks, with their sharp eyes and scarred faces, wouldn't draw their axes the very next moment? Without a foundation of trust, even the finest harbor was just an empty berth, with waves beating against it in vain.

His father was too impatient. He saw the alluring light at the finish line, but ignored the thorny, turbulent road beneath his feet. He tried to smash a thousand years of shackles with a mighty hammer, never considering that the blow might shatter the reef he stood on first. Reform called for the patience to unravel a tangled skein, the precision of a surgeon's blade, and the wisdom of boiling a frog slowly.

Yulon's gaze turned to the gloomy sea outside the window. Real change should be like the tide wearing away at reefs: slow but steady. It shouldn't overturn the whole ship in one blow. Instead, it should quietly adjust the angle of the sails, carefully replace rotting timbers in the keel, and patiently chart new channels along the route. It would take time and strategy, and step-by-step proof that this new path could bring richer "salt and iron" than the Old Way. Visible benefits and greater strength would be needed to persuade, divide, and ultimately replace those stubborn reefs.

His father wanted to reach the destination in a single leap, while Yulon saw a long journey that had to be carefully laid out, step by step. This old, battered ship—the Iron Islands—didn't need an upheaving storm. It needed a skilled navigator who knew how to use the tides and the wind, and could guide it carefully away from the shoals known as the Old Way.