Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

The dark green fishing net was fished out, and the bloody fish flopped feebly. The seawater dipped in its tail was thrown into the crew's mouth. The smell of fish was mixed with the salty sea, and an inexplicable feeling of nausea surged into the throat, but the crew had no time to care about it. He was strong. His arms pulled at the net, dragging it back desperately.

"There's a big fish! Hurry!" he shouted loudly.

A tall and broad black shadow fell behind him, and a dull voice sounded, "I'll come."

The person who made the noise grabbed the fishing net with one hand, and the crew looked at him. He was wearing unsociable heavy armor, and his gray hair was covered with a helmet that looked like a sea monster. There was only one person who dared to wear heavy armor before sailing...

He quickly took a half step back and lowered his head.

"Captain Iron."

The muscles in Victarion Greyjoy's right arm bulged, and the fishing net splashed onto the deck along with the seawater.

He clapped his hands and said, "Have a night of fun and order a dozen boat prostitutes. We will be busy later."

The crew member lowered his head slightly, "Yes."

When the crew walked away, Victarion looked at the distant ocean with cold eyes. The noise of the fishing village in Pike City port was covered by the overwhelming waves.

He held the giant ax tightly in his left hand, and the white edge was like the white foam thrown out by the huge waves, but it had a bit more chilling reflection in the sunlight.

Victarion frowned tightly, and all the mixed emotions of unwillingness and obedience to the order came up, choking in his throat.

The Ironborn actually chose Euron instead of themselves. This perverted brother actually sat on the Sea Stone, and even received the blessing of the Drowned God... An irreverent bastard actually sat on the Sea Stone?

Damn it!

Victarion seemed not to be looking at the boundless sea, but at the execution platform where Euron died.

I am King Balon's most capable assistant and the most skilled captain!

Victarion's body tensed up, but when it reached its peak, it suddenly slowly deflated.

He clenched his fists, but he was a soldier of the Iron Islands and the vanguard of the Ironborn. He must obey orders and obey the orders conveyed by the Seastone, even if... that was the damn Euron who once occupied his wife!

Euron didn't seem to care about Balon's achievements yet. Euron issued the order without even discussing the request for help in Bay Cailin at the meeting, and had no intention of continuing to hold on to the north.

The order is equally strange, but it also excites most iron types.

"The Iron Islands? The Narrow Sea? The icy North? What I will give you will be the Seven Kingdoms, and the entire Westeros. From sunrise to sunset, the land illuminated by the sun will be the place where the ancient paths of the Ironborn are practiced! "

"I will be the Lord of Westeros, and you will be the noble iron race, no longer bowing to anyone. Their wealth is our iron money, the castle is our residence, and our wives and daughters are our salt concubines! "

"You will be free to walk the ancient paths without compromise or humiliating surrender. All the riches are sacrifices to us!"

"Moving towards the Shield Islands, this is our first step to conquer the mainland!"

Yes, Victarion admitted that these crazy words were indeed deceptive, but he did not believe that even someone as calm as himself could not help but be intoxicated by them, which was really strange.

"Sorry, Rav," Victarion apologized in a low voice to Rav Kenin, who was guarding the Bay of Cailin. "The terrain of the Bay of Cailin is difficult and dangerous. No one can break through it from the land. As long as the supply ship is in place, the North People will be helpless."

He said with conviction, his eyes looking towards the ocean became more determined, and he stood upright on the deck. The ship's hull shook but he did not move at all.

…

"The people in the north can only stare at us on land, haha!"

The iron types around him were more competitive than the others. The long boat piled with supplies slowly moved towards the depths of the Relang River. The end was the hills to the west of Kalin Bay.

"We are a pack of wolves at sea, and Stark is a hippie who deserves to be drowned!"

The ironmen's laughter even surpassed the white mist rising from the Relang River, and countless birds fluttered away in fright.

"Okay, don't say it..." The captain of the supply ship warned the crew below him impatiently, but his words died in his throat in just a moment.

The white mist dissipated before my eyes, and the longship sailed in.

Mermaid flags were scattered in front of them, makeshift boats were spread out in rows, and the sound of bowstrings being stretched echoed everywhere.

The murmur of the ironborn ceased, and silence reigned.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Poof!"

The long boat suddenly turned into a hedgehog, as if its limbs were submerged and floating on the sea.

The ironmen, who call themselves "wolves of the sea," fell into the sea one by one. Their blood muddied the water and turned into mist.

Eddard Stark stood on the shore, and Marlon Mandalay stood beside him on horseback. Among the Mandalay men, he was considered the thinnest one, but compared to ordinary people, his strong chest and figure were exposed. He is very skilled in martial arts.

"Only now do I really see the efficiency of the White Harbor shipwrights." Ed said in surprise as he looked at the boats floating in front of him.

Malone nodded lightly, "There are still a number of unlaunched warships in White Harbor. Compared with them, these are just small fish and shrimps. What's more, the fishermen on the shore also have many good shipbuilders."

After hearing this, Ed nodded in agreement. Bolton drove a large number of villagers north of Cailin Bay further north. Fortunately, they ignored the fishing villages near the coast. He guessed that there was a high probability that Bolton believed that this area had actually become an area controlled by the Ironborn.

And when Eddard came here carrying the Stark banner, countless northerners came out to greet him with tears in their eyes, and heard countless tragic stories that he had never heard during his management of Winterfell.

He looked eastward, and saw the Gulf of Cailin in the distance.

"Once we take Carlin Bay and hold on to the coast and the Neck, we can at least completely isolate the southerners," Ed said.

Marlon nodded. That was true, he thought.

Perhaps, Ed thought hesitantly, this would also increase his bargaining chips with Artis Arryn...

"Duke Ed, a raven sent a message to White Harbor."

Ed turned his head, "Where is it from?"

"From the Wall, the Night's Watch, Maester Aemon."

He took the envelope, and an inexplicable feeling of suffocation came over him.

"We have too few people, Duke," Harold Hatton frowned and looked at the cavalry behind him, "There are only two hundred cavalry following. If Stark attacks..."

"No need." Artis answered briefly.

"Through the Neck, we..."

"No," Artis said, "We stop in front of the Neck and wait for Stark to come."

Harold frowned again, "Edard Stark was attacked once in the Red Castle. If he learns from his lesson and brings all of Stark's troops here..."

Artis shook his head, "Graveson's army is in the Twins, we are safe."

"But, this number of people can't defeat Stark at all..."

Artis turned his head to look at Harold, with a little disappointment in his eyes, "Stark has been defeated, we don't need to defeat him again."

"But..."

"War or peace," Artis interrupted Harold's question, "It doesn't depend on us."

Artis raised his whip and quickened his pace. Unlike Harold's concern, Artis was more concerned about Ed's own transformation. Whether his brain, which was frozen by the northern winter, had melted after experiencing the mutiny in the Red Castle and long-term imprisonment and disappearance.

If Ed wanted to reconcile, the northerners would cross the Neck and bow to Arryn.

He thought of the situation in King's Landing and the south, and the sense of urgency surged in his heart again.

Time waits for no one, and Attis will not be content to stay where he is.