Euron's prediction about the negotiations was astonishingly precise.
He didn't have to wait long. A re three days later, an elegant, slender black boat flying no flag silently approached the heavily guarded docks of Grey Gallows Island like a phantom.
Its appearance raised no alarms because everything about it—its unique shape, its silent deanor—clearly announced the identity and intent of the visitor.
It ca from the neutral ground in the Stepstones that no one dared touch lightly, the marketplace of desire and secrets: Silent Bay.
Stepping gracefully from the boat was a woman draped in black gauze. Her face was half-hidden behind a thin veil, revealing only eyes so deep they seed to swallow light, glancing around with the calm and mystery of soone who had seen the world.
Her steps were unhurried, as if she were not stepping onto a conquered land just washed in blood and still thick with the air of slaughter, but rather entering a long-appointed ball.
Her arrival itself was a silent language, declaring the choice of the Triarchy Alliance—or at least, so of those who truly held power within it.
The curtain of negotiation quietly rose with a speed that exceeded everyone's expectations.
The black skiff from Silent Bay brought a definitive ssage: Both sides agreed to et three days later at the recognized neutral ground, the haven of desire and secrets—Silent Bay.
At that ti, the Triarchy Alliance would bring all the "evidence" they could gather, hoping to prove their "innocence" to Euron Greyjoy and offer terms satisfactory enough to appease him.
When the ssage was relayed, Euron showed no surprise. He simply listened to the report calmly, the corner of his mouth sketching an arc of anticipation, like a chess player with everything under control.
"Tell them," his reply was simple and powerful. "I will be there on ti."
This understated reply weighed a thousand tons.
It was not just a promise, but a signal—indicating that the new master of the Stepstones was willing to give the other side a chance to solve the problem at the negotiation table. However, everyone knew clearly that the danger of this eting in Silent Bay might be no less than a naval battle fought with real swords and spears.
Only this ti, the weapons would be words, bargaining chips, and unfathomable sches.
Euron's gaze swept over his core team in the hall, his tone as casual as deciding what to have for dinner. "Who wants to go to the negotiation in Silent Bay?"
A brief silence fell over the room. Balon Greyjoy crossed his arms, let out a disdainful snort, and turned his head away—he had no interest in occasions of verbal sparring; in his view, a direct war was far more satisfying. Prince Oberyn yawned elegantly, toying with his snake-head ring, and lazily stated, "Haggling? That's a rchant's trick, dreadfully boring." Veteran Uncle Balfour shook his head directly; he was better at commanding on a longship than maneuvering around a negotiation table.
Finally, all eyes—including Euron's—landed on Lord Paxter Redwyne.
The heir to the Arbor might not be the bravest warrior, but he was the only one among them who truly knew how to speak "properly" with those velvet-wearing governors and princes who talked trade.
The three days passed in a flash.
A lean, elite squad departed from Black Rock Island.
Euron Greyjoy, dressed entirely in black, walked at the front, his expression calm as water. Beside him walked Lord Paxter Redwyne, dressed gorgeously but unable to hide his nervousness.
Behind them followed five Ironborn elites, silent as mountains with sharp eyes; Floyd Greyjoy was among them. Also present were five well-equipped warriors wearing the grape-cluster sigil surcoats of House Redwyne. This small group, representing two powerful forces, embarked on the journey to the neutral ground.
In stark contrast to Euron Greyjoy's light travel with only ten elites, the Triarchy Alliance delegation was massive.
Nearly a hundred officials, knights, scribes, and guards from Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr arrived at Silent Bay in gorgeously decorated ships. Dressed in finery, with silk, velvet, and gold ornants shining in the sun, they strove to maintain the dignity and majesty of the Free Cities, yet revealed their inner unease and bluster.
After landing, Euron did not imdiately make contact with these "VIPs" waiting anxiously. His figure disappeared straight into the depths of Silent Bay, into the secluded mansion belonging to the owner of this place.
---
For Silent Bay to stand as the only enduring neutral ground amidst the bloody chaos of the Stepstones, it naturally possessed unique laws and power that transcended the mundane.
Its founder was a legendary pirate queen in history—Bellegere Otherys. Because of her skin, deep as ink, the world called her the "Black Pearl" of Braavos.
This legendary woman was the captain of the feared Widow's Wind. Her bloodline was noble and complex: her father was the son of a Sealord of Braavos, and her mother was a princess from the distant Sumr Isles. Her life was an undefinable polyhedron: a cunning smuggler, a shrewd rchant, and occasionally returning to her old trade of piracy. Her romantic affairs were known across the seas; it was said she had a husband in every major port, and even Aegon IV Targaryen was once among her many lovers.
Now, ruling this neutral land was the descendant of this legendary queen, inheriting the sa na, Bellegere Otherys. She too had once been famous in the social circles of Braavos.
She wore a dark yellow, low-cut silk gown that complented her glowing brown skin perfectly, revealing her curves and infinite charm. Her thick black hair was elegantly tied up with a fine gold hairnet, and a necklace crafted from jet and gold hung over her full bosom, rising and falling slightly with her breath.
Many Braavosi believed the title "Brown Pearl" suited her better, accurately describing her warm, seductive skin tone like honey.
When Euron ntioned Raphael Ortega, the Water Dancer under his command known for his elegant swordsmanship, even the worldly "Brown Pearl" Bellegere Otherys couldn't help but cover her mouth and chuckle, a glimr of nostalgia in her eyes. She clearly rembered the dashing swordsman who had been infatuated with her.
Raphael had once fought a duel for her favor, using his signature bravo's blade to knock the favorite of a powerful magister to the ground.
This past event undoubtedly added a touch of romance and sword-shadowed legend to the neutral background of Silent Bay.
---
Euron leaned lazily on a chaise longue covered with soft cushions. His gaze swept from the tranquil harbor outside the window to the luxurious yet tasteful decorations inside, finally landing back on the captivating hostess before him. A playful smile on his lips, he spoke slowly:
"Truly unexpected. In this chaotic place soaked in blood and greed, there hides such a tranquil haven." His voice was low, carrying a hint of appreciation. Then he shifted his tone, staring burningly at Bellegere. "What surprised even more is that amidst so many piles of stinking n, there hides such a... fragrant, eye-brightening beauty."
He leaned forward slightly, as if posing a question that haunted him.
"Tell , why leave the beautiful, wealthy, and civilized Braavos to take root in this lawless land?"
Hearing this, "Brown Pearl" Bellegere Otherys laughed softly. She elegantly tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear, a simple movent filled with charming allure. A complex emotion flashed in her eyes—nostalgia, but more so the relief of breaking free from constraints.
"Braavos?" She humd lightly, her tone carrying the languor of soone who had seen through the world. "People there indeed dress well and speak elegantly, but everyone loves playing sches and tricks. All transactions and emotions are hidden undercurrents; they live wearing countless masks." Her red lips curled into a wilder smile. "But the Stepstones, though savage, are simple and direct. Plunder happens in broad daylight; killing is done clearly. After staying here long enough, I truly realized that, in the end, pirate blood flows in my veins."
Her voice held a trace of self-mockery, yet was incredibly firm. "In Braavos, even smiles are calculated. I nearly forgot what true happiness tasted like. Until I ca here," she opened her arms, as if embracing the entire Silent Bay, "I understood that this lawless, free sea is the place that suits best. Everything here is, at least, real."
Euron's gaze lingered on her face for a mont, as if seeing the uninhibited soul through her beautiful appearance. He nodded slowly, his tone carrying a hint of agreent. "It seems you truly belong here."
Euron tapped his fingers lightly on the table, looking sharply at Bellegere. "As the mistress of Silent Bay, and a descendant of the pirate queen, in your view... where will this negotiation of ours ultimately lead?"
Bellegere let out a light laugh like spring water hitting jade. She shook her head, her eyes shining with cunning and sober light. "The negotiation is between you and the Triarchy Alliance, my Lord. As for ? I am rely a middleman providing the venue, ensuring the wine in both cups doesn't suddenly turn into poison." She paused, her tone becoming aningful. "As for the final result? That has always depended only on you... on what kind of result you desire. Instead of asking , you should ask yourself."
Euron stared at her for a mont, then suddenly laughed too, a laugh containing appreciation. "Hmm. You are right."
He stopped circling. His aura suddenly beca direct and tough, like an unsheathed blade. "Fine, then let's discuss our trade. All material flows in the Stepstones, all secret intelligence—whatever Silent Bay knows, I want a copy. Na your price."
Unexpectedly, Bellegere hesitated hardly at all. Her red lips parted lightly to utter a single word:
"Free."
This abnormal answer made even Euron pause slightly, a rare flash of surprise in his eyes. "..."
Bellegere enjoyed his montary change of expression, then added unhurriedly, her smile still beautiful but now carrying a cold edge. "However, I need you to... do a favor in the future."
"Speak," Euron said concisely.
"A man's life." Bellegere's voice was soft, but every word was clear.
"Who?"
"Tregar Ormollen."
Euron's brow twitched, followed by a playful smile. "The Trade Prince of Lys? Interesting. A man intricately connected to the Faceless n, yet you ask , an ordinary man, to take the life of a Prince for you? That doesn't sound like it fits the rules of the Many-Faced God." — He couldn't be sure if Bellegere was definitely a Faceless Man, but she was absolutely not a weak woman with no strength.
Bellegere's smile deepened, as if she had expected this question. "All n must serve, all n must die. But Tregar Ormollen's ti of death is not yet written; his na is not currently on the Many-Faced God's list." Her gaze deepened, as if piercing through Euron's essence. "And you... a man clearly existing outside the Many-Faced God's list, an entity called the 'Son of the Drowned God' by countless people... how could you possibly be an 'ordinary man'?"
Euron was silent for a mont, seeming to weigh it, then said, "Now? I might not have ti to go to Lys personally to handle this, nor the ti..."
"Not now," Bellegere interrupted him, her tone composed. "When the threads of future fate intertwine, and the opportunity is right... just rember today's agreent."
Euron looked straight into her bottomless eyes. Finally, he nodded decisively. "Done." His tone was concise, as if a Trade Prince of Lys were rely at on a chopping board, ready to be sliced and diced whenever he wished.
User Comments
0 comments from readers