Salt Power Is Hegemony

The salt pans on the west coast of Pike Island stretched out under the lead-grey sky, like festering wounds on the land. Murky seawater was channeled into crude evaporation ponds, baked by the fierce sun and whipped by the sea wind, eventually yielding a layer of coarse, sand-like salt grains, a mix of grayish-white and brownish-yellow. The air was filled with a salty, fishy, and bitter aroma, the unique, lingering scent of inferior coarse salt mixed with rust and seaweed. The salt workers, hunched over, their bare feet treading in the scorching salt mud, their skin eroded by the brine like cracked reefs. Every movement of bending down to scoop up salt was accompanied by suppressed groans and the grating sound of dragging chains. This coarse salt, mixed with mud and bitter impurities, was cheaply packed into rough sacks and piled up in damp warehouses, awaiting exchange for meager iron ore or moldy grain—a humble and bitter cycle that had persisted on the Iron Islands for thousands of years.

Deep within the towering black stone towers of Pike, however, the air was cold and clean, filled with the scent of parchment, whale oil, and power. Yulon Greyjoy stood before King Kolen's massive sea chart table, his small frame appearing exceptionally calm in the flickering glow of the whale oil lamp. He did not look out at the salt pans, a symbol of poverty and toil, but rather at the two rough pottery bowls placed side-by-side on the table.

One bowl was filled with a sample of coarse salt just brought from the salt pans: grayish-yellow, clumpy, uneven in grain, emitting a fishy and bitter smell. In the other bowl lay a small pinch of snow-white, crystalline powder, dry as fine sand, shimmering with an almost sacred faint light under the lamp.

King Kolen's rough fingers picked up a pinch of coarse salt and touched it to his tongue. His brow immediately furrowed; it was the familiar, unpleasant bitterness and coarseness. He then picked up a pinch of the snow-white powder, his movement betraying a barely perceptible hesitation. As the ultimate pure saltiness dissolved on his tongue, unmarred by any impurities, only the pure essence of concentrated ocean, his hawk-like eyes, which had seen countless storms, suddenly erupted with an unbelievable sharpness! He tasted it repeatedly, comparing, as if appraising a rare treasure.

"What... is this salt?" Kolen's voice was low, with a suppressed vibration. He had never tasted such pure salt; its quality even surpassed the "Sun Salt" of Dorne, renowned for its purity.

"Salt," Yulon's reply was almost flat, but deep within his heterochromatic pupils, a fire of absolute control burned. "Iron Islands sea salt, refined through the 'Platinum Sand Project'."

"'Platinum Sand Project'?" Kolen's gaze hooked Yulon, locking onto his youngest son.

"Yes, Father," Yulon's voice was clear and calm. "The coarse salt from the pans is cheap, like pebbles by the roadside. But after specific methods of washing, dissolving, and crystallizing—a method mastered by Lysa, its secret formula preserved only here," he tapped his temple with a slender finger, then pointed to Lysa, who stood like a deep-sea phantom in the shadows, "and in Lysa's mind—all bitterness, impurities, and moisture are removed, yielding this snow-white, sand-like, ice-pure 'Platinum Sand'."

He picked up the bowl of refined salt and held it up to the light, letting the crystalline grains flow in the interplay of light and shadow. "Dorne's 'Sun Salt' is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms for its purity and is worth a fortune. Our 'Platinum Sand,' however, is even superior in purity!" He paused, each word falling like a cold gold coin onto the table. "Its value is at least ten times that of coarse salt, perhaps more. The nobles, wealthy merchants, scholars of the Seven Kingdoms, and even the Royal Chef in the Red Keep, who pursues ultimate flavor, will pay dearly for it."

Kolen's breathing grew heavy. He stared intently at the bowl of refined salt, which seemed to flow with silver light under the lamp, then abruptly looked up at the gray, bitter salt pans outside the window. The stark contrast crashed against his ingrained perceptions like a tidal wave! Ten times! Ten times the value of coarse salt! What did this mean? It meant that Pike Island's barren salt pans would instantly become veins flowing with gold! It meant that the most unremarkable resource of the Iron Islands would transform into a lever to pry open the wealth of the Seven Kingdoms!

"This technique..." Kolen's voice held an unprecedented gravity and greed. "It must be like a holy relic of the Drowned God, belonging only to Greyjoy! Only to Pike!"

"Of course, Father," Yulon's lips curved into a cold smile. "The secret method for 'Platinum Sand' is locked in an iron chest in Pike's deepest cellar; only you and I hold the key. Lysa is responsible for the core formulation, and every step is supervised by the most loyal Ironborn guards, divided and isolated. No one, not even the slaves responsible for the actual operations, will ever see more than one part of the entire process, like blind men touching an elephant, never grasping the whole picture."

He walked to the window and pointed towards Saltcliffe in the distance, the domain of Lord Geymond Pottery, which also possessed large salt pans and was one of the main producers of coarse salt on the Iron Islands. "Lord Pottery's salt remains bitter, grayish-yellow coarse salt. Pike, however, will only produce 'Platinum Sand'." His voice was like a poisoned dagger. "Under the guise of 'benevolence,' we will supply 'Platinum Sand' to the lords of other islands in limited quantities and selectively, based on their loyalty. We will let them use this snow-white salt to exchange for gold, grain, and silk from the mainland... let them taste the sweetness, let them become dependent!"

Kolen instantly understood his youngest son's venomous scheme. The refined salt would become an invisible chain!

"Loyalists, allies as steadfast as rock," Yulon's fingers traced through the air as if distributing wealth, "will receive ample, stable supplies of 'Platinum Sand,' their warehouses piled high with snow-white riches. As for those with ill intentions, those who pay lip service but harbor dissent..." His voice turned sharp and cold, like the winds of the North, "their quotas will be reduced, or even cut off entirely. They will be left guarding mountains of bitter coarse salt, watching wealth slip through their fingers, watching their people grumble in poverty! They will either submit completely to Pike, or... drown in the bitterness of coarse salt."

He turned around, his heterochromatic eyes flashing with an eerie, cold light in the whale oil lamp's glow, staring directly at Kolen. "Father, salt is the foundation of the Ironborn's survival, and it is also the lifeline by which we control the islands! Whoever controls the purity of salt controls the throat of all the islands! Let 'Platinum Sand' become our scepter of both reward and punishment, letting the lords of other islands understand—their wealth, their prosperity, even the peace of their lands, hinges on a single thought from Pike! Salt Power is Hegemony!"

King Kolen clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. He looked at his five-year-old son, who already deeply understood the essence of power, at the bowl of "Platinum Sand" glittering under the light, symbolizing endless wealth and absolute authority. A torrent of burning ambition, enough to melt iron chains, washed away his last shred of doubt.

"Salt Power is Hegemony!" Kolen closed his eyes and murmured, "Now, we must think carefully about how best to utilize it..." Outside, the calls of the salt field slaves could be faintly heard, carrying the unchanging sorrow of centuries. And within the black stone tower, a silent storm, capable of overturning the power structure of the Iron Islands, had already begun, stirred by the snow-white refined salt. The bitter era of salt was about to end, and a new era, paved with "Platinum Sand" and ruled absolutely by House Greyjoy, was quietly spreading with the sea breeze. Salt Power is Hegemony!