King Robert Baratheon sat heavily on his chair in the small counsel hall, his face dark with anger and frustration.
The reports of the Ironborn rebellion had reached him, and he clenched his fists, veins bulging with fury.
“Damn these Ironborn,” he growled, voice echoing through the room.
“Raping, pillaging, and now they dare to rise against me?
They think they can defy the might of the Seven Kingdoms and get away with it?” He shook his head, eyes blazing with determination.
“No, this cannot stand.
The Ironborn are nothing but barbarians—savages who live by the sword and take what they want.
They think they’re untouchable, but I will crush them.
I will make an example of them.
The Iron Islands will burn, and their people will learn what it means to defy the Crown.” His hand gripped the armrest of his chair tightly.
“Ill be coming to you Grayjoy”.
“Rally the soldiers, Ready the ships, and get my hammer.
The days of the Ironborn terrorizing the realm are over.
We will show them the true strength of the Seven Kingdoms.
And if they refuse to submit, they will be eradicated—every last one of them.” He leaned forward, voice booming with deadly resolve.
“The Ironborn will learn what it means to cross Robert Baratheon.” —- Tywin Lannister read the report with a neutral expression, his face impassive.
The Ironborn are targeting the Westerlands—his domain.
He set the parchment down slowly, weighing the information carefully.
“This is an escalation.
They are unlikely to succeed, but the threat must be neutralized before it grows,” he said quietly, voice steady and composed.
“We will mobilize the forces along the coast.
A swift response will prevent them from gaining any foothold.” He looked at Kevan, who stood nearby, waiting patiently.
“What is your assessment?” Kevan nodded.
“They lack the resources for a prolonged campaign.
If we strike decisively, we can contain the rebellion and minimize damage to our holdings.” Tywin considered this.
“Agreed.
Delay only gives them time to rally support or seek aid.
We will act quickly, with precision.
No unnecessary destruction—just enough to send a clear message.” Kevan spoke softly, “And the other houses?
Will they support us?” Tywin’s gaze was cold and calculating.
“Most will.
The realm understands the consequences of rebellion.
We must demonstrate strength, but also restraint.
A show of force, not chaos.” He paused, then added, “Ensure the troops are ready.
We handle this with ruthless and cunning a second song of reigns of castamer will be sang.
The Ironborn will learn that the Westerlands is not to be tested.” —- Sunspear (Dorne): Prince Doran Martell listened to the report with a calm, calculating expression.
When the mention of the Ironborn’s attacks on the Westerlands, his lips curled into a subtle, cold smile.
His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge of resolve.
“Let the Westerlands bleed.
Let Tywin Lannister watch his lands burn, as my sister’s blood once spilled.
This is only the beginning.
The Ironborn are a nuisance— but an opportunity for us to watch as Tywin’s realm suffers.” He paused, eyes narrowing.
“My vengeance against the Lannisters is a long game.
I have waited patiently, biding my time.
The day will come when Tywin’s house will pay for what he did to my family.
Until then, I will support the realm’s struggle, but only as a means to an end—to see Tywin’s pride shattered and his lands laid waste.
Dorne’s patience is as deep as the sands, but make no mistake—my wrath is slow, but it is sure.” —- The Tyrells: Mace Tyrell listened to the report, his face pale but his expression hardening with resolve.
He was a man quick to act on his feelings, often guided by his instincts rather than careful deliberation.
“Rebels and pirates,” he said sharply, his voice tinged with anger.
“They threaten the peace of the realm!
We cannot stand by and watch our lands be torn apart.
If they threaten the Crown, then we must support the realm—by any means necessary!” He turned to his son, Loras, with a fierce look.
“Send your men to the Westerlands!
Show strength—no more talk of caution.
We fight now, and we show everyone that the Reach fights for the realm, for honor, and for our pride!” Loras opened his mouth to object, about to argue that they should consult his grandmother, Olena Tyrell, first.
But Mace cut him off with a stern glance.
“Enough,” Mace snapped.
“We do what’s needed.
The realm needs us, and I say we answer with fire.
Let’s crush these rebels and pirates—before they think they can threaten us again.
We do what’s necessary, and we do it now.” Loras hesitated, glancing toward the door, his going to find his grandmother Lady Olenna, seeking her counsel before proceeding further.
——- A few days after, The war has officially begun.
The Ironborn have captured ships from Westerland; several skirmishes have been reported along the shores of Blaze Water Bay, The Crag, and Faircastle.
The Ironborn have taken these strategic strongholds, fortifying their control over key sea routes.
Town after town, they have pillaged, raped, and murdered, spreading terror across the coastlines and disrupting the fragile balance of power.
The realm are still gathering their forces.
The North has mobilized and marched southward, rallying their armies and supplies.
The Crownlands and Riverlands are doing the same, sending troops and ships to bolster their defenses.
The Vale has begun preparations, sending messengers and reinforcement troops to key strategic locations.
The Reach has declared its support openly, mobilizing their armies and assembling ships to transport soldiers across the waters.
Dorne, however, remains silent.
While letters have been dispatched to King’s Landing, announcing their support, no movements or military actions have yet been observed from their borders.
—- Jon was staring out at the sea.
Together with 50 wood clones, this force could annihilate the Iron Islands.
Jon clapped his hands and declared:”Wood Release: Mokuzai Kōjin no Jutsu (Wood Creation and Shipcraft Technique).” (This is an A-Rank technique that allows the user to instantly create large, fully functional wooden ships out of raw chakra-infused wood.
The ships can be summoned from the ground or water and can be manipulated at will for movement, combat, or stealth operations.) Then they got on board the ship.
Some manipulated the water to move forward, some activated mist to hide the ship, and others used chakra on the water to help navigate the seas.
They did this with rotations, their destination being Pike and Harlow—places where the largest number of thralls are held.
After a week of traveling across the seas, they finally saw the stronghold of House Greyjoy, Pike.
It is positioned on a high, rocky promontory, making it a natural fortress with strategic defensive advantages.
The castle of Pike is a formidable and ancient stronghold, primarily constructed from gray stone.
Its walls are thick and weathered by the salty sea air, blending seamlessly into the surrounding rocky cliffs.
The keep is perched atop the highest point of the island, offering commanding views of the waters—crucial for the Ironborn’s seafaring and raiding lifestyle.
Jon gripped the kunai in his hand and, with full strength, threw it toward the island.
Before it hit anything, 41 silhouettes appeared in the air, then gently landed on the island.
(He left 10 wood clones at the ship to navigate the sea and travel to Harlow) Jon and the other clones Once ashore, they split into smaller squads, each assigned to different strategic points.
Employing their invisibility techniques, they moved through the terrain like ghosts—silent, unseen, and undetectable.
Their goal was to gather intelligence without raising any suspicion.
They used water manipulation to create distractions, while genjutsu kept guards confused and disoriented.
When encountering sentries, they employed silent takedowns with kunai, before the bodies drop on the floor, hands appears on shadows catching the bodies and sealing them, ensuring complete stealth.
When night fell over Pike Island, a hush settled across the rocky expanse.
As the thralls lay in restless sleep within their darkened caves and open pits, they were silently marked with the faint glow of the Flying Thunder God.
A whisper of chakra, invisible to all, streaked across their bodies—an untraceable mark that would allow the ninjas to locate and teleport to them instantly.
Every night, Jon and his clones worked tirelessly beneath the cloak of darkness.
They moved with precision, their bodies flickering in and out of existence as they mapped every inch of the island.
Silent as ghosts, they planted mark on every thrall and saltwives—each a tiny mark of the Flying Thunder God, ensuring that no one on this island will be left behind.
When dawn approached, the clones and Jon withdrew to the hidden caves nestled high on the cliffs—impossible for the Ironborn to discover.
There, they gathered their intelligence, pouring over the maps they had painstakingly created.
Every cave, every saltwater settlement, every patrol route was marked with meticulous precision.
Weeks passed in this silent war of shadows.
Each night, the ninjas worked with unwavering dedication, and by the time the sun rose, they had completed their task: a detailed map of Pike Island, every thrall, every saltwife marked, every hidden corner where soldiers lurked.
Strategically placed within the shadows were papers bombs—concealed in the corners of caves, beneath loose stones, and hidden among the rocky outcroppings.
These devices were set to explode when everything is in place.
Now, they waited.