[center][img]http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/1/1d/Ten_Towers.jpg[/img][/center]

[center][h3]Ten Towers, Harlaw Island[/h3][/center]

Cidran Harlaw sat at his desk, reclined back in the big heavy leather chair behind it. The heavy sea desk made from the remains of a huge ancient longboat. It might have been an Iron Ship built sometime back in Balon Greyjoy’s time as far as he knew. But this desk provided a great deal of interesting things. A place for him to work, and store vital documents, but it also had a huge space under it where he should be resting his legs, but at the moment his legs are spread and he’s reclining back as his lovely wife bobs her head in his lap. The work he has to do to run his little island hold is spread across the desk, but it’s all outside his mind at his wifes very skillful tongue work. As the two sit enjoying themselves a knock comes at the door, Cidran calling for who ever it is to come in. His very son Peytr entering. Young Petyr Harlaw looks at what’s happening and sighs, “Well, I’d be shocked if I didn’t know how much you two enjoy your merry making. Walking in on my own parents lovemaking, anyone else would be aghast.” Cidran didn’t answer just grunted, and pulled his wife gently off his shaft, “Later my dear.” Tillia licked her lips and got up smoothing her leathers, as before she came in, she had been out in the courtyard training with some of her ladies. She’d come in smelling of sweat and salt air. Which might have got Cidran going a little as well. She went over to a basin to wash up while Cidran stuffed himself away and waved to his son, “Well come on then my boy, what brings you?” Petyr stepped up and proffered a leter, “I was in the rookery waiting for a letter from my cousin Allesia in Glimmering, when this came in. It’s got the Crakehall seal.” He held it out to his father. And Cidran grabbed it, looking at the seal on it, then cracked it open, standing up and heading over to the window, getting light to read it by.

Both Tillia and Petyr watched as Cidran’s face went from flushed with afterglow pleasure, to pale with shock, then red with rage. He balled up the letter and hurled it across the room, then roared. His infamously loud voice echoing through the halls. Somewhere way down below an older maid looked to a younger one and said, “Best not to head up there until he’s worked it out of his system.” Up in his office Cidran beat a fist against the strong wood table beside the window, “He’s scum! That Greenlander piss pot! If only I could wrap my hands around his neck and twist! Drowned God take him and throttle him! He thinks he can win me that way? More the fool scum he is!” He grabs the big heavy table he was smashing his fist against and upends it, sending paper, ink wells, quills and a fine gold cup clattering and fluttering to the floor. Across the room Tillia picked the note up, and unballed it to read it. Petyr in the meantime watched his father rage, taking note, wondering if this rage would be hereditary. Because it’s mighty impressive indeed. After abit Tillia says, “He’s leaving, setting sail for the mainland, and he’s trying to give you Pyke?” Petyr turned to look at his mother, “But isn’t this a good thing? We’ll take Pyke Castle, and take the Seastone chair. We’ll be Great House of the Iron Islands. Powerful and lordly.” Cidran by this time had calmed down grabbing a bottle of grog from under his desk, and going to pour it in a goblet but stopped and instead drank right from the bottle. He took a few breathes afterward, “Not like this. If we take to the waters after Crakehall has taken to sea, it will look like we’re bending the knee. Taking the scrapes and leavings of those landbound lords like we’re taking the piss and shite. What do you think the other Houses will say? I’ll tell you, they’ll say we took the Greenlanders Price, their gold price, that all of them are ruled by. And they’ll institute the Iron Price on us like dogs. Dispute our rule, fight against our decrees. We’ll be ousted out of Pyke within three months, and back here on Harlaw with a blockade off our waters in four.” He growled and plopped down in the chair behind his desk nursing the bottle in his hand. 

The lord of Harlaw looked over his desk at his son and wife. Tillia was the next to speak, “Then what do we do? If you say it, we could send word by Raven to Blacktyde, I’m pretty certain my brothers and uncle would set sail immediately, they’d be a little behind us as we also set sail. We could take to the water, and take out Crakehall there. Where he’s most vulnerable. The Iron Fleet was not at Pyke, not all of them anyway. We have our twenty ships at anchor over in Glimmering don’t we? We could send them forth, with as many longboats as we can muster. Blacktyde would follow. I know my brother Gio would love to send a firebomb or ten onto the deck of a greendlander Dromond.” Cidran shakes his head, “No, but I like the idea of sending out our Iron Ships.” He looks at his son, “Find my crew, and take the Black Vision, and the Ironborn’s Pride, tail Crakehall, all the way to that spur of land south of the islands. Tell the captains this isn’t a battle. You only have two ships, not the full one hundred of the Iron Fleet, let them see you, but do not engage them my son. And come back safe. Take water, food and all the ammunition you might need. If they turn and try to engage, run, you’ll be faster then them any day of the year and then some. I bet you Crakehall will be more worried about returning safely when he’s so vulnerable out there then he will be trying to strike back at us.” He rubbed his face, “In the meantime, I have a letter to write.”

[hider=Tyget Crakehall][i]Tyget Fucking Crakehall,

You’ve got a fair pair of brass shiny balls there greendlander. Pyke lies burnt, and you try and fob it off on someone? Makes me wonder Crakehall, what you would have done to try and hold Pyke. Would you have left some of your men here? Who would have provisioned them? Think you were going to take the food from the people? If there were any survivors anyway. How long do you think that would have lasted? How many men a foot did you have Crakehall? Ten thousand? Fifteen? Twenty Five? And burned the city as well. And now you’ve turned tail and run? Figured out how tenuous your situation is out here didn’t you? I wonder, did you take into consideration how easy it would be for the other islands to hem you in? Starve you out? The islands don’t have a lot of farms, and the people wouldn’t be willing to go out and fish or crab if they would only come back and have to feed you.

Run home Crakehall, and hope there’s a home for you to reach. So many men out here, kinda makes me wonder if the other greendlords didn’t decide to take it from under you. Watch your horizons while sailing home lordling.

I need to ask though Crakehall, what makes you think you have any sway over me? Legitimize me? I’m already lord of fucking Harlaw, richest island in the Iron Islands, and you have the brass balls to think I’d need you to legitimize me? That’s greendlander thinking there, that you have power of all that you behold. That you can take nature into your hand and think you have the power to command it. The Drowned God take you is what I say. 

Know Crakehall, that I will not take the Seastone Chair. As I’m sure you were hoping I would. To take your Gold Price would be foolish, I’d have my throat slit, or be marooned on some barren rock in the Ironsman’s Bay within a month. No, you’ll not win that way Greenlander. You’ll have no man here on the islands who will bend the knee. I’d sooner pay the Iron Price then take your veiled hope. You’ll never know the contempt I hold for you Crakehall. You’ll wonder, what if I actually had taken the Seastone Chair and what it would have done to you. I wish rough seas ahead for you Crakehall.

Lord Cidran Harlaw, Lord of Harlaw Island and Ten Towers Castle[/i][/hider]

After he finished writing he roared out for one of his stewards. The man rushing in. Cidran pointed at him, “Get all our ships in the water, and make sure the Black Vision and the Ironborn’s Pride are well stocked. My son is taking them out to trail Crakehall. Send word by courier to my brothers to make ready as well. Get their ships out into open water. And send a Raven to Blacktyde, letting them know what is unfolding. I will not be caught with my pants down.” He looked up at his son and wife, “We’ll not take that Gold Price that Crakehall thinks is so tempting. No, once we know that Crakehall is gone, we’re going to start raiding a little. Up and down the coast, north and south, The Riverlands, The Westerlands and all the way if we can to the north coast of the Reach. We’ll need to prepare. Gold, steel, thralls and other prizes.” His wife and son looked at him, stunned. It was Petyr who asked it though, “Father? Why? Why got o such great lengths?” Cidran grinned grabbing the bottle of grog from the table, “Because, I’m going to do something that hasn’t been done, since the time of Asha and Theon Greyjoy. I’m going to call a Kingsmoot, everyone will be raiding and gathering prizes.” Tillia let out a titter, “Oh very smart my husband, very smart indeed. News will get out I’m sure. And the Greenlanders will wonder who will be sitting the Seastone throne after the Kingsmoot. Will he be friend to the Mainland, or foe. Goodness me.”
Cidran grinned, “Yes, but for now, go my son. Ready the Black Vision and find Captain Salthroat, he captains the Ironborn’s Pride, he’s the son of my old mentor Rosi Saltthroat. He’ll follow your word. He knows you well. Sail well my son, and come back safe. I want to toast to Crakehall leaving the Islands with you at the hightable.” Peytr  smiled and swept out of the room. Tillia Harlaw smiled, gave her husband a kiss, then went off to write a letter to her brothers and uncle on Blacktyde island to keep them abreast of the situation. Other notes were written by Ten Towers scribes, to alert the Brother Harlaw in the castles of Tower of Glimmer, Harlaw Hall, Harridan Hall and Grey Garden. Oh woe to the man who thought the family of Harlaw was so easily bought.