The letter contained not a single overtly threatening word from start to finish. Its tone was humble, almost earnest. Yet, much like Lady Olenna herself, it was an iron fist in a velvet glove.
It admitted partial fault to ease tensions, drew a firm line on core demands that could not be crossed, and served up a substantial financial temptation.
It was an olive branch praying for peace, but behind it stood the clear, looming shadow of the entire military might of the Reach. If the Iron Islands rejected this "generosity," the next arrival would not be a diplomat, but the rolling thunder of the Tyrell armies.
King Quellon finished reading and passed the letter to Euron. "Take a look."
Euron read it carefully, word by word, then offered genuine praise. "The Queen of Thorns, Olenna Redwyne. The uncrowned ruler of Highgarden. Heh, she could write a textbook on diplomacy."
He then slowly analyzed the text: "She admits the 'hijacking' but frames it as 'rashness' and 'misjudgment' rather than deliberate aggression. She shifts partial blame to a 'misunderstanding of the King's will.' This gives the Iron Islands a graceful way to step down while leaving room for future dealings with King's Landing."
"She explicitly admits defeat to cut losses quickly and prevent the situation from deteriorating. She sets the protection of civilians and the lives of her kin as the highest priority and absolute prerequisite. Her wording is earnest but implies a hard line: cross this line, and there will be no more talk."
"She proposes compensation directly, showing sincerity and flexibility. This is the real 'carrot' in the letter—trading wealth for the safety of people and land."
Euron pointed to the broken wax seal. "Beside the Tyrell rose, the edge is stamped with a small cluster of grapes. A silent reminder of the writer's inseparable blood tie to House Redwyne."
King Quellon nodded. "Yes. She wants peace, not war. But she is also prepared to fight us to the death if peace fails or if the Redwyne father and son are killed. A smart woman, covered in thorns indeed."
Starfish Harbor, The Great Hall.
The lords of the seven Iron Islands gathered. In the center stood the envoy of House Tyrell, looking like a prisoner awaiting judgment. Lady Olenna's letter was passed around to the other lords, though most of them had little interest in such subtleties.
After listening to the trembling envoy read out the purpose of his visit, Euron's trademark, inscrutable smile reappeared.
King Quellon didn't respond immediately. He drummed his fingers lightly on the armrest of his chair, as if enjoying an interesting piece of music.
After a moment, he waved his hand, dismissing the envoy to wait for a reply.
When only the core leadership of the Iron Islands remained, King Quellon chuckled, breaking the brief silence. "It seems the 'Queen of Thorns' is much smarter and more pragmatic than her foolish brother." He commented, "Since she is willing to sit down and talk, and even offered compensation first... then let's talk."
He turned to the captain in charge of the prisoners. "Go. Let the Redwyne father and son wash their faces and change into cleaner clothes. Tomorrow morning, make sure the Tyrell envoy 'coincidentally' sees them alive and in decent condition. Then, tell them that the Iron Islands loves peace and has no desire to be enemies with the rich Reach. Tell them our actions were forced upon us, purely to reclaim justice and dignity."
He spoke smoothly, as if every word were true. The surrounding lords let out a low, knowing chuckle.
"However," King Quellon's tone shifted, his eyes sharpening, "while we are 'loving peace,' the 'relocation' work must not stop! Everything in the warehouses, cellars, and the castle that can be moved must be cleared out as soon as possible! Every ship in the harbor that still floats—warship or merchant—tow them away! Leave nothing! We need the Tyrells to see that while we want peace, we are ready to leave at any moment, and—we have already taken the vast majority of what we wanted."
His strategy was clear and cold: Demonstrate sincerity in negotiation (living captives), while simultaneously showing uncompromising strength and the ability to withdraw (emptying everything). This based the negotiation on the undeniable fact of their absolute victory and tangible gains.
The Next Day.
The negotiations began in a delicate atmosphere. The Tyrell envoy saw the living Redwyne father and son—haggard, but not abused—and breathed a sigh of relief. But he also saw the nearly empty port and castle, which filled him with mixed emotions.
Euron represented the Iron Islands. He wasn't aggressive; in fact, he seemed quite "reasonable."
"We feel Lady Olenna's sincerity," Euron said with a smile. "We do not wish to be enemies with Highgarden. Tell you what—to show our goodwill and to put a period on this unfortunate conflict... we will allow Young Master Paxter Redwyne to return with you first. This represents our sincere willingness to talk peace. A young man shouldn't be kept here as a guest forever."
This proposal delighted the envoy. It meant one of the most important heirs could return safely.
"However," Euron continued, as expected, "Lord Adrian, I'm afraid, will need to stay with us as a 'guest' a little longer. After all, he is the primary party involved, and many details require his confirmation. Besides, having him here ensures that our subsequent conversations... will proceed in a friendly atmosphere, don't you think?"
This was undoubtedly a demand to keep the father as a high-value hostage while releasing only the son.
Then, Euron laid out the core demand:
"As for compensation..." He acted as if he were thinking it over carefully. "To cover the losses of our hijacked merchant ships, the pensions for our warriors, and the cost of our long journey here... House Tyrell needs to pay a ransom of one hundred thousand Gold Dragons."
He stated the number as casually as if he were asking for ten coppers. One hundred thousand Gold Dragons. A sum that could bankrupt any noble house, nearly equivalent to a year's revenue for the Crown.
"This money," Euron added, "is in exchange for Lord Adrian's future freedom, and acts as a security deposit for long-lasting peace between the Iron Islands and the Reach. Once the money arrives, we release the man, withdraw the fleet, and live in harmony."
He tied the massive ransom to "peace," framing it as an investment in future security rather than just payment for past damages.
The proposal was extremely harsh: Release a secondary heir, demand a sky-high ransom, and keep the primary Lord. But this was exactly Euron's strategy: Start high to leave room for negotiation, while firmly holding the most critical leverage.
After stating the astronomical figure, Euron didn't appear pushy. Instead, he leaned back lazily, as if he had just made the most reasonable suggestion in the world. He even offered the Tyrell envoy a "helpless" smile.
"You can see for yourself," he spread his hands, his tone light and conversational. "We Ironborn aren't really used to the overly sweet breeze and climate of the Arbor. We miss the salty, cold winds of home. So..."
Euron's tone remained gentle. "Please convey my 'sincerity'—and our small request—to Lady Olenna exactly as I have stated."
"Please ensure we receive the compensation the Iron Islands deserves as soon as possible." He emphasized the word "deserves," implying the hundred thousand dragons were a matter of natural justice.
Then, the smile on Euron's face receded slightly. His voice dropped, taking on an unsettling, confiding tone of "honesty," as if sharing a dangerous secret. "You must understand, the patience of the Ironborn... is limited."
He spoke slowly, his gaze sweeping over the shadowy, scarred, and fierce-looking warriors standing outside the hall.
"Not all Ironborn desire peace as much as I do. In fact, many are already very unhappy with me." Euron pointed a finger casually toward the outside. "Because I strictly limited their looting of civilian property; because I stopped them from taking blood for blood and killing all prisoners to avenge our fallen brothers; because I chose to sit here and negotiate instead of burning the Arbor to ash."
Euron's expression became extremely "sincere," even carrying a hint of "grievance" at being misunderstood. "I can only do my best to suppress those war hawks for three days." He held up three fingers, his tone grave. "Only three days."
"Within three days, if I do not see Highgarden's sincerity and speed in solving this problem... if it drags on too long, I fear I won't be able to control the situation." He paused perfectly, allowing the infinite, bloody possibilities contained in "unable to control the situation" to consume the envoy's imagination.
"At that point," Euron concluded with a tone bordering on pity, "what happens next won't be something you, I, or even Lady Olenna would want to see. So, for the wellbeing of everyone... please, be quick."
This speech was a masterpiece of diplomatic blackmail and psychological threat. He painted himself as the "moderate," "rational" dove, while offloading all potential destructive violence onto those fictional or real "war hawks."
He gave a clear, urgent deadline—three days—and directly linked the speedy payment of the ransom to "maintaining peace" and "preventing a massacre."
It was tantamount to saying: Agree to my terms not because you won, but because I, the "good guy," am helping you hold back the "bad guys." If things go wrong, it's not my fault—it's because you were too slow and angered the "bad guys."
From this moment on, the negotiation truly entered its cruelest, most psychologically demanding phase. Through perfect performance and precise pressure, Euron had successfully transferred the dilemma, anxiety, and time pressure onto his opponent. He sat firmly in the center of the web like a spider, waiting for the prey to struggle. The Tyrell envoy had almost no choice but to rush this threatening "ultimatum" back to Highgarden.
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