Oath of the Grey King

The family banquet hall was filled with the distinctive mingled scent of sea salt, grilled fish, and whale-oil lamps.

The enormous black-stone table lay like whale bones washed ashore, cold and heavy. Flames danced in the hearth, casting warped, flickering shadows across the rough stone walls, yet they could not dispel the bone-deep chill steeped into the hall by the salty sea wind.

At one end of the table sat Kolen Greyjoy, King of the Sea Stones, firm as a reef in the seat of honor as he carved into the juicy roasted cod on his plate. His wife, Sansa Greyjoy, a woman of House Blacktyde from Blacktyde Isle whose features always carried an inescapable melancholy, quietly picked apart the fish and fed it to Victarion, their one-year-old son babbling in her arms. Also seated at the table was Kolen's younger brother, Balf Greyjoy, the hot-tempered master-at-arms, who was heartily devouring his food with ale. And in the second seat at the long table sat Yulon's elder brother—Baron Greyjoy.

The occasional crisp clink of cutlery against silver plates, little Victarion's muffled babbling, Balf's hearty laughter, and Baron's deliberately ridiculous pirate songs filled the room.

Kolen swallowed a mouthful of fish, lifted his rough earthenware cup with callused fingers, and fixed his gaze on Yulon, who was quietly eating at the other end of the table. His eyes fell like a cast anchor, heavy and deep. His voice was not loud, yet it was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, instantly shattering the surface calm.

"Today, two more lords made a proposal to me." Kolen paused, his gaze passing over every face present before settling on Yulon's little face, so calm it was almost indifferent. "They hope to name you—Yulon Greyjoy—as my heir."

Crack.

The silver spoon in Lady Sansa's hand lightly struck the edge of her porcelain plate, producing a faint but piercing sound. She abruptly looked up, panic flashing through her eyes as she instinctively pulled Victarion tighter against her chest. Uncle Balf froze halfway through drinking. Cloudy ale dripped down his thick beard as his eyes widened. He looked at Kolen, then at Yulon, and finally cast a complicated glance at his silent nephew Baron.

It was as though all the air had been sucked out of the hall in an instant. Only the crackling of firewood in the hearth and the mournful howling of the sea wind against the high windows remained.

In the second seat at the table, Baron Greyjoy's thick arms steadily held his knife and fork. With lowered eyelids, he focused on the food before him. Of course he had heard his father's words, and he understood their weight.

Before the banquet, his father had asked him the very same question in the armory. Baron's answer then had been blunt, even carrying a hint of approval for his younger brother. "Yulon? That kid's a little uncanny, and his mind turns faster than a storm. If he can lead the Iron Islands to seize more gold and fatter sheep than I can, then what's wrong with letting him have it? Greyjoy blood will still be flowing on the throne of the Iron Islands!"

Baron loved his family, loved all his younger brothers, including Yulon, who always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up a little. Blood was an iron chain, stronger than any damned law. Heir? So long as his father decided it, Baron Greyjoy would not so much as furrow his brow, or he would not deserve to call himself ironborn! He only instinctively felt that bringing up such a major matter at the dinner table was a little... too casual. Besides, he was waiting to see how that little brat who always acted so profound would react.

Kolen casually asked as he ate his fish, "Yulon, what do you think?"

What do I think? What can I think!? I'm looking at it lying down~~~

Yulon felt no ripples in his heart. If anything, he wanted to laugh. A joke about Yuan Fang from some distant time and space flashed through his mind at the most inappropriate moment. His knife and fork did not pause in the slightest as he continued precisely cutting the snowy white fish on his plate. His movements were elegant in a way utterly mismatched with his age. He did not even lift his eyelids, as though his father were discussing tomorrow's weather rather than a matter of succession that could shake the family's foundations.

Amid the suffocating silence, Yulon finally placed a small, boneless piece of tender fish into his mouth, chewed it carefully, and swallowed. He picked up a linen napkin and leisurely wiped the corner of his mouth before raising those mismatched eyes. His left eye was a chaotic abyss that swallowed all light, while his right resembled an arctic core of ice that had frozen a storm. Calmly, he met his father's scrutinizing gaze.

"Succession by the eldest son," his child's voice was clear and cool, without the slightest emotional fluctuation, as though he were stating the eternal laws of the tides, "has always been the traditional foundation of the Iron Islands, and indeed of Westeros." His gaze seemed to casually sweep over Baron, seated across from him.

Baron snorted through his nose and continued chewing his fish. He knew this little brat would bring up tradition, acting all proper! The slight resentment he had felt over his brother being favored eased somewhat.

Kolen took in Baron's expression and Yulon's calmness. He leaned forward slightly, like an experienced captain probing uncharted waters. "But you are the Son of the Drowned God. The Iron Islands are unlike the six kingdoms of the mainland. The Drowned God's will stands above mortal laws. Succession outside the eldest line... is not without precedent in our history." His words were bait, testing the true ambition in his youngest son's heart.

The corner of Yulon's mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible curve. He set down his knife and fork, leaning his small body against the chair back, while his gaze seemed to pass through the thick stone walls and land upon the roaring, boundless black sea beyond the windows.

"Father," his voice remained calm, but it now carried a vastness and ethereality beyond his years, almost like an oracle, "wherever the scent of seawater can be smelled, or the sound of waves can be heard..." He paused slightly. Every word fell into the silent stone hall like an ice crystal condensed from sea salt. "That is all my territory."

Those words swept through the entire hall like an invisible storm! Lady Sansa drew a sharp breath, her face turning pale. Uncle Balf's mouth fell open, and he did not even notice the ale dripping from it. Even Baron, who had kept his head lowered all this time, tensed almost imperceptibly.

Yulon's gaze swept over their stunned faces before returning to Kolen. Deep within those mismatched eyes, ghostly flames from the deep sea seemed to burn. "I prefer the Grey King's oath: 'I shall rule the sea, and I shall rule the rocky land as well, clad in robes woven from seaweed, with Nagga's teeth as my lofty pale crown.'" He recited the oldest and most exalted legend of the Iron Islands. His voice was not loud, yet it carried an unquestionable, weighty echo from ancient times.

A pin drop could have been heard in the hall. Only the flames in the hearth flickered uneasily, illuminating faces filled with shock.

At last, Yulon turned his gaze toward his mountain-like, silent elder brother Baron across the table. His tone became extraordinarily "gentle," carrying even a trace of childlike innocence and mischievous teasing, as though he were playing with a hot-tempered but close companion.

"So, Father," he spread his small palms in a gesture that said, "Here, go play with it." His mismatched eyes gleamed with the delight of a successful prank. "Leave these tiny Iron Islands to Brother Baron." He even deliberately stretched out his words in the tone of an adult coaxing a child. "His ability... should be enough to~~~ watch~ the~ house~ oh!" His tone and expression practically said: Big Brother, you can play with this toy for now. Just do not lose it. I'm going to play with something bigger!

Bang—screech!!!

A teeth-grating sound of twisting metal suddenly exploded through the room!

Baron Greyjoy's face instantly turned liver-red! He understood! He completely understood the light, dismissive tone hidden in every word from this little bastard, treating him like some guard dog! What did "watch the house" mean? Baron Greyjoy was the wolf of Pyke, an iron captain capable of tearing enemy ships apart! How old was this brat? And he dared speak to him in the tone used to coax Victarion?! And "bestow" the Iron Islands upon him?! The fury of being toyed with and looked down upon by his younger brother surged straight into his head! Son of the Drowned God or not, he would beat him first and let him know who the elder brother was!

Savage strength instantly poured into the knife and fork in his hands! The thick, heavy dining knife forged from fine steel was crushed and twisted in his grip like soft clay! The tines of the fork sank deeply into the flesh of his palm, and crimson beads of blood seeped out!

He suddenly raised his head. His eyes, round with rage, stared fixedly at Yulon like an enraged sea lion teased by a seal. His roar shook dust from the ceiling.

"You little bastard!! I... want... to... beat... you... to... death!!!" The towering anger in that roar was genuine, but beneath it lay the elder brother's fury born from embarrassment, indignation, and the urge to teach a disrespectful younger brother a proper lesson. Blood and familial affection were still there, but at that moment, all he wanted was to drag this brat over and give him a vicious spanking!

A scene of brotherly affection unfolded in the banquet hall. Yulon ran around the table, dodging his enraged elder brother, until his mother laughingly swept him into her arms. Only then did Baron stop resentfully and return to his seat.

After things quieted down a little, King Kolen looked at Balf and held out his hand. "You lost. One hundred Gold Dragons!"

Balf rolled his eyes. He had thought it was merely a joke between brothers. Who would have expected his brother Kolen to truly overturn the table? A bet was a bet, and Balf tossed over a clinking pouch of Gold Dragons, shaking his head with a sigh. "By all reason, shouldn't the younger brother be plotting to overthrow the elder one, while the elder brother sharpens his knives to get rid of the monster, and then the two fight it out? How did the throne of the Iron Islands become so worthless?"

A bet? A bet on whether the two brothers would fall out over this?

Baron was stunned, then roared, "Bastards! You can gamble on something like this? You can joke about something like this!!!???"

King Kolen and Balf burst into laughter, entirely unconcerned. Yet Yulon keenly caught a hint of something unusual. Frowning, he said, "Perhaps there really are many people who want to see the scene Uncle Balf just described!"

Kolen sighed and smiled faintly. "Baron, I have to say, your younger brother really is much smarter than you!"

Baron froze for a moment, then understood. "Father, do you mean someone deliberately spread these rumors because they want to see discord between us brothers and unrest in the family?"

"And then?"

"What do you mean, 'and then'? Whoever is behind this clearly means us no good. Find them and kill them!"

"But there are quite a few lords who think this way now. Some have schemes, some are simply following the crowd, and some are sincere. Are you going to seize and kill every last one of them?"

"Then seize them first. There are plenty of ways to make them understand..."

"They are ironborn of the Iron Islands—nobles and lords—not salt slaves you can beat or kill at will, nor your prisoners. Seize or kill them, is that how you want to throw the Iron Islands into chaos?"

"Uh, then..."

Kolen ignored his single-minded eldest son and instead looked at Yulon. "Yulon, what do you think?"

What do I think again? What can I think!?

"A very effective, and very vicious, plot. What I mean is..." Yulon smiled. "We should wait without showing any reaction. And since they want to see discord between us brothers, we should give them what they want to see. By then, some people will certainly approach both Baron and me, using all sorts of excuses about acting for our benefit while offering us advice and plans. Those who seem the most enthusiastic and most willing to provide help will be the rats hiding in the dark."

Baron scratched his head. "Acting? I'm good at that. No wonder everyone calls you a monster. You came up with a plan in no time at all. It's strange—we eat the same salted fish, so how exactly did your brain grow like that?" As he spoke, he ruffled Yulon's hair and vigorously pinched his cheeks.

"Brother, just make sure you do not turn an act into the real thing and truly get led around by those people. What if you really decide to chop me up then..."

"Bastard, are you laughing at me for being dumber than you, or looking down on me?"

"Not really. Actually, there's a little of both."

A scene of brotherly affection appeared in the banquet hall once more...