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CaveLeather
Most of the lords had little interest in why Jalabhar Xho was exiled or why he wanted to fight back. Stories of justice, reform, and the suffering of the common folk were far less tangible to them than a tankard of strong ale.
What they craved was a conquest that boiled the blood—the dull thud of blades hacking into bone, the magnificent sight of enemy ships capsizing before their eyes, and holds stuffed full of gems, spices, and hardwoods. As for whether the original master of these rich waters followed an "uprising" or an ancient "ritual war," that was just background noise.
Now, since Jalabhar Xho had married into House Greyjoy, taking an Ironborn girl to wife, in the rough logic of the lords, he was counted as half one of their own. This connection made supporting his reclamation of the throne a matter of course—helping kin rather than helping a cause.
As for those ideals of freedom and change—to hell with them! The longships of the Iron Islands sailed only for plunder and conquest.
Thunderous cheers echoed in the hall, carrying the unique roughness and passion of the Ironborn. Whether they truly understood or cared about Jalabhar's ideals, at this moment, they gave this affine sufficient face and respect.
When the wave of noise subsided slightly, Jalabhar Xho stepped forward. He raised a hand in a calming gesture, his gaze sweeping over the rugged face of every lord present. His voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly suppressed the final lingering sounds.
"Lords," Jalabhar spoke slowly, his tone firm. "I reiterate, launching this uprising is not for my personal power, nor even to wear a crown."
Jalabhar paused for a moment, then spoke with utmost solemnity: "I promise here and now, if we successfully unify the Summer Isles with your help," his gaze finally landed on Euron, as if making a vow to him and the entire House Greyjoy, "then from this day forth, above every island in the Summer Isles, alongside the islands' own banners, the Golden Kraken banner of House Greyjoy shall fly forever!"
This meant complete submission and allegiance, tying the future of the entire Summer Isles firmly to the Iron Islands.
Jalabhar gently took the hand of his wife, Tessaya Greyjoy, and raised their clasped hands high. He threw out a guarantee that was even more impactful and demonstrated greater sincerity, his voice crystal clear: "Furthermore, the children born of myself and Tessaya Greyjoy, whether male or female, shall be the legal and sole heirs to the future Summer Isles! He or she shall rule that land in the name of Greyjoy, and walk the world with the surname of Greyjoy!"
Upon hearing this, the entire hall fell silent for a moment, then erupted into cheers and shouts more fanatical and sincere than any before.
This was no longer just polite agreement; it was heartfelt identification and frenzy.
Jalabhar Xho had told all the Ironborn in the most direct way: This was not a war to win a throne for a foreign prince; this was a great conquest for House Greyjoy to expand its borders, branding its bloodline and banner forever onto the rich southern archipelago!
Jalabhar Xho's earth-shattering promise caused a flash of unconcealed surprise to flit across Euron's eyes. This was completely outside the plan; Jalabhar had not revealed a whisper of this to him or anyone beforehand.
Amidst the scorching gazes, King Balon turned his head and asked in a low voice, "Euron, what do you think?"
Before leaving for King's Landing, King Quellon had bluntly warned him: "Your muscles are solid enough, but your brain is far from sufficient. In the future, for major decisions you can't make, you must let Euron decide. He is much smarter than you." These words still stung Balon, but self-awareness prevented him from refuting them.
Euron snapped back from his momentary contemplation. He stood up, walking steadily to stand before Jalabhar, his deep gaze meeting the dark-skinned prince's determined eyes.
He did not directly comment on the promise itself but accepted this heavy trust with equal solemnity: "Thank you, Prince, for your unreserved trust in House Greyjoy."
Euron's voice was clear and powerful, echoing in the silent hall. "I, Euron Greyjoy, guarantee here—the power and oath symbolized by the Golden Kraken banner will forever protect the unified Summer Isles and all the people living under that sunlight."
This was not a simple acceptance, but a reciprocal promise made in the name of the master of the Greyjoys.
"House Xho is ancient and excellent; it should not be buried here."
Euron chuckled lightly, taking a step forward. Under everyone's gaze, he forcefully gripped Jalabhar Xho's wrist and raised the prince's arm high, like displaying a flag of victory.
Euron's voice boomed, clearly reaching every corner of the hall. "I declare—from this day forth, the offspring of Jalabhar Xho and Tessaya Greyjoy shall inherit the blood and glory of both parents! They shall bear the name Xho-Greyjoy, becoming the bridge connecting the Summer Isles and the Iron Islands, ruling that sun-drenched land!"
Hearing this, a genuine and grateful smile appeared on Jalabhar Xho's face. He nodded slightly, acknowledging Euron.
Euron had not only accepted his allegiance but also reserved a place for his ancient house in the name of the future rulers. This subtle respect was significant. At the same time, he understood that Euron fully comprehended the deeper meaning of his move—he offered not just loyalty, but the future of the entire Summer Isles, in exchange for the strongest guarantee.
Jalabhar had achieved his goal.
Because Jalabhar knew better than anyone that on this vast ocean, order was now written by the Kraken Lord who commanded giant beasts.
As long as Euron Greyjoy nodded in agreement to place the Summer Isles under his wing, then neither greedy Lys, cunning Tyrosh, nor any other power would dare interfere lightly in the internal affairs of the Isles, nor dare stretch their black hands toward the free people of the Summer Isles to enslave them.
"Xho-Greyjoy!"
"Xho-Greyjoy!"
Fanatical shouts thundered through the ancient stone hall, threatening to lift the roof.
Amidst this boiling wave of sound, Euron subtly nudged Balon with his elbow, whispering teasingly, "My dear King brother, now would be the time to announce the expedition to the Summer Isles."
Balon rolled his eyes at him grumpily, his expression a mix of annoyance at being reminded by his younger brother and excitement for the coming conquest. But he did not hesitate. He sprang up from his seat, his burly figure like a suddenly rising reef. He grabbed a battle-axe from a nearby guard, raised it high, and smashed the heavy spine of the axe onto the oak long table before him—THUD!
A heavy, immense sound instantly suppressed all the noise. Wood chips flew, and the entire hall fell silent in an instant, all eyes focused on him.
"In the name of the King of the Iron Islands!" King Balon's voice rolled like thunder, carrying unquestionable authority and heroism. "I declare—in two months, when the east wind is strongest, our longships, laden with Ironborn courage and axe blades, shall sail south! We will cross the Summer Sea, step onto the Summer Isles, and with the blood and wails of our enemies, complete a great unification never seen before!"
After a brief silence came a complete, deafening eruption.
Countless battle-axes and longswords were raised, frantically beating against shields, the floor, and tables, merging into a roar of thirst for war and plunder.
"For the Iron Islands!"
"For the Golden Kraken!"
"Conquest!"
In this symphony declaring war and savagery, the prepared servants poured in like a tide, carrying in barrels of frothing mead and great platters of sizzling, fragrant roasted meats.
The grand feast officially began in this feverish atmosphere where the will to fight and the intoxication of wine intertwined.
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