At sea, the Ironborn were the masters.
Early the next morning, Balon rose and took a sip of ale brewed in the Iron Islands.
But the Iron Islands offered little in the way of good brewing conditions, so the ale was rather bitter. It burned as it slid down his throat.
Just then, someone knocked on the door to Balon's room.
"Come in," Balon said.
The door opened, and Asha walked in. She had changed out of her leather armor and wore only a brown tunic. Her hair was still damp, as though she had just washed.
"Father, Uncle Victarion took his men out to count the warships first thing this morning. Theon is at the docks overseeing the conversion of the merchant ships, too. I've assigned people to help him, so he shouldn't be taken for a fool." She went straight into her report on the preparations underway in the Iron Islands.
When she finished, she sat down across from Balon and poured herself a cup of ale. She had started work earlier than either Theon or Victarion, making all the necessary arrangements, and only now was she ready to rest.
Balon simply nodded at her report without saying anything.
"Father." Asha set down her cup and looked at Balon, her tone solemn. "Have you really made up your mind? Must we oppose the Iron Throne?"
"Do you think we shouldn't fight, then? Even though Theon's plan is reasonably sound?" Balon asked in return.
Asha was silent for a while before finally speaking. "I don't know. It's true that we can't defeat dragons, but Ironborn pride is just as real. I also know that if we bend the knee this time, House Greyjoy will be finished in the Iron Islands."
She paused, then continued, "And with a king like