Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

The salt flats on the west coast of Pike Island stretch out under a leaden sky, like festering wounds on the earth. Muddy seawater is drawn into makeshift drying ponds, where it is scorched by the blazing sun and battered by the sea winds, eventually settling into a layer of coarse, sandy salt grains, grayish-white mixed with brownish-yellow. The air is thick with a salty, bitter stench—the lingering smell of rust and seaweed characteristic of inferior coarse salt. The salt workers, their backs hunched, tread barefoot in the scalding salt mud, their skin corroded by the salt like cracked reefs. Each bend to shovel salt is accompanied by suppressed groans and the grating sound of chains dragging. This coarse salt, mixed with sea mud and bitter impurities, is cheaply packed into rough sacks and piled in damp warehouses, awaiting exchange for meager amounts of iron ore or moldy grains—this is the humble and bitter cycle that has continued for centuries in the Iron Islands salt flats.

Deep within the towering black stone towers of Pike, the air was cold and clean, thick with the scents of parchment, whale oil, and power. Euron Greyjoy stood before his father, King Coron's, massive chart table, his small frame appearing remarkably serene in the flickering glow of the whale oil lamp. He didn't look out the window at the salt fields, a symbol of poverty and hard labor; his gaze was fixed on two rough earthenware bowls placed side by side on the table.

One bowl is filled with samples of coarse salt fresh from the saltworks: grayish-yellow, clumpy, and unevenly sized, emitting a fishy and bitter smell. The other bowl contains a small pinch of snow-white, crystalline, dry powder, shimmering with an almost sacred glow under the light.

King Coron picked up a pinch of coarse salt with his rough fingers, licked it on his tongue, and immediately frowned. It was that familiar, unpleasant bitterness and roughness. He then picked up a pinch of the snow-white powder, his movements tinged with a barely perceptible hesitation. When that pure, exquisite saltiness melted on his tongue, without any impurities, only the pure, concentrated essence of the ocean, his eagle eyes, weathered by countless storms, suddenly flashed with an unbelievable sharpness! He tasted and compared it repeatedly, as if appraising a rare treasure.

"What...what kind of salt is this?" Corin's voice was low and trembling with suppressed emotion. He had never tasted such pure salt before; its quality even surpassed that of Dorne's "Sun Salt," renowned for its purity.

"Salt." Euron's answer was simple to the point of being bland, but deep within his heterochromatic pupils burned a flame of all-powerful control. "Sea salt from the Iron Islands, a product purified through the 'Platinum Sands Project'."

"Project Platinum Sands?" Coron's gaze was like a hook, fixed firmly on his young son.

“Yes, Father.” Euron’s voice was clear and calm. “The coarse salt from the saltworks is cheap, like roadside pebbles. But after a specific process of refining, dissolving, and crystallizing—a process mastered by Lisa, the secret of which is kept only here,” he tapped his temple with his slender finger, then pointed to Lisa, who stood in the shadows like a ghost from the deep sea, “and into Lisa’s mind—removing all bitterness, impurities, and moisture, one can obtain this snow-white, pure 'Platinum Sand'.”

He picked up the earthenware bowl containing refined salt, held it up to the light, letting the crystalline grains flow in the shadows. "Dorn's 'Sun Salt' is renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms for its purity, worth a fortune. But our 'White Gold Sand' surpasses it in purity!" He paused, each word like a cold gold coin striking the table. "Its value is at least ten times that of coarse salt, perhaps even more. Nobles, wealthy merchants, scholars, and even the Red Keep chefs who crave the ultimate in deliciousness will all pay exorbitant prices for it."

Corren's breathing became heavy. He stared intently at the bowl of refined salt, which seemed to shimmer with silver light under the lamp, then abruptly looked up at the gray, bitter salt flats outside the window. The stark contrast shattered his preconceived notions like a tidal wave! Ten times! Ten times the value of coarse salt! What did this mean? It meant that the barren salt flats of Pike Island would instantly transform into a vein flowing with gold! It meant that the Iron Islands' most insignificant resource would become leverage to control the wealth of the Seven Kingdoms!

"This technology..." Corren's voice carried an unprecedented solemnity and greed, "It must be like a sacred object of the Drowned God, belonging only to Greyjoy! Only to Pyke City!"

"Of course, Father." Euron's lips curled into a cold smile. "The secret of 'Platinum Sand' is locked in an iron box in the deepest cellar of Pike City. Only you and I possess the key. Lisa is responsible for the core allocation, and every step is supervised, separated, and isolated by the most loyal Iron Citizen Guards. Anyone, even a slave responsible for the specific operations, can only access one link in the entire process, like the blind men and the elephant, never able to see the whole picture."

He walked to the window, pointing towards Salt Hill Island in the distance, the territory of Earl Gilmond Portley. Salt Hill Island also possessed vast salt fields and was one of the main producers of coarse salt in the Iron Islands. "Earl Portley's salt remains a bitter, grayish-yellow coarse salt. As for Park City, it will only produce 'Platinum Sand'." His voice was like a poisoned dagger. "We will, in the name of 'Blessing,' supply 'Platinum Sand' to the lords of other islands in limited quantities, based on their loyalty. Let them use this snow-white salt to exchange for gold, grain, silk from the mainland… Let them taste the sweetness, let them become dependent!"

Koren instantly understood his youngest son's vicious scheme. The refined salt would become an invisible chain!

"The loyal ones, the allies as steadfast as rocks," Euron's fingers traced through the air as if allocating wealth, "will receive a plentiful and stable supply of 'Platinum Sands,' their granaries will overflow with pure white riches. And those with ulterior motives, those who feign compliance…" His voice suddenly turned cold, like the biting winds of the North, "their quotas will be reduced, even cut off. They will be left only with mountains of bitter salt, watching their wealth slip through their fingers, watching their people wail in poverty! They will either submit completely to Pyke City, or… sink into the bitterness of salt."

He turned around, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with an eerie and cold light under the whale oil lamp, staring directly at Koren: "Father, salt is the foundation of the Ironborn's survival, and the lifeline of our control over the archipelago! Whoever controls the purity of the salt controls the throat of all the islands! Let 'White Gold Sands' become our scepter of both kindness and power, so that the lords of the other islands understand—their wealth, their strength, even the peace of their territories, all hang on to the whim of Pike City! Salt power is hegemony!"

King Coron clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. He looked at the five-year-old boy before him, who already understood the essence of power, and at the bowl of "white gold sand" that gleamed under the light, symbolizing endless wealth and absolute power. A torrent of scalding ambition, enough to melt iron chains, swept away the last trace of doubt in his heart.

"Salt power is hegemony!" Corren murmured, his eyes closed. "Now, we should think carefully about how to best utilize it..." Outside the window, the faint cries of the saltworks slaves drifted in, carrying with them the unchanging sorrow of centuries. Inside the Black Stone Tower, a silent storm, stirred by the pure white salt, was brewing—a storm powerful enough to overturn the power structure of the Iron Islands. The bitter era of salt was coming to an end; a new era, paved with "White Gold Sands" and absolutely ruled by the Greyjoy family, was quietly spreading with the sea breeze. Salt power is hegemony!