The Stepstones. Main Island of Cutthroat Isle.
Jared Lockner was the most trusted diplomat of Adolf Moses, the Archon of Tyrosh. He had spent a career charming the recalcitrant and soothing the egos of warlords, turning enemies into the Archon's most potent tools.
As he was led through the Pirate Fortress, Jared's keen eyes missed nothing. He was struck by the strange atmosphere of the place. The knight leading him—Frodo—walked with the practiced grace of a trained warrior, yet there was a lingering "rookie" air about him, as if his skills were brand new, freshly polished but lacking the years of grime found in a veteran.
Curious, Jared thought, adjusting his silk turban. How does a Northern bastard turn common boys into disciplined knights so quickly? If the Archon possessed such a secret, he would be invincible.
Inside the fortress, the decor was equally baffling. Where other lords displayed blood-soaked tapestries or rusted trophies of war, Jon had decorated with living greenery and hardy indoor plants. It was minimalist, clean, and strangely dignified.
He is no ordinary upstart, Jared concluded. Most bastards who find power drown themselves in wine and silk. This one... this one has a vision that stretches far beyond the horizon.
In the second-floor Great Hall, Jon sat upon a simple but imposing weirwood throne. He wore a clean white silk shirt and sturdy leather breeches—the attire of a young lord who valued mobility over pomp. Having no patience for the long, tangled curls of the North or the dyed monstrosities of Tyrosh, Jon had shorn his hair into a practical, short-cropped style. His face was smooth, a result of the daily struggle with a primitive straight-razor that made him miss the electric shavers of his past life.
"Respected Lord Jon," Jared began, offering a deep, practiced bow. "I am Jared Lockner, envoy to the Archon Adolf Moses. It is a profound honor to witness the city you have raised from the ash of pirates."
"The honor is mine, Master Lockner," Jon replied, his voice calm and melodic. He gestured for Frodo to provide a chair for the guest. "Though I must ask—I have no prior acquaintance with your Archon. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Jared sat, smiling warmly as his servants brought forward several heavy chests. "Your name has outpaced the wind, My Lord. My master has a deep respect for strength. He wishes to offer you his friendship... and a token of his esteem."
The chests were opened, revealing the dull, heavy glint of Tyroshi gold. Jared then produced a sealed letter, stamped with the Archon's wax seal: a sea eagle clutching a four-quartered shield depicting a sword, a maiden, a shackle, and a ship.
Jon broke the seal. To his surprise, the letter was written in elegant, flowing Common—the tongue of Westeros—rather than the High Valyrian dialects common to the Free Cities.
The Archon's proposal was blunt. Tyrosh and Lys were currently locked in a bitter struggle over the Disputed Lands. Lys supported Salladhor Saan to keep the Stepstones unstable and serve their interests. Tyrosh needed a counter-move. Adolf Moses offered Jon a formal alliance: Tyrosh would recognize Jon as the "King of the Stepstones" and provide the gold to fund his conquest, provided he wiped Salladhor Saan off the map.
Historically, the Three Daughters—Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys—had always feared a unified Stepstones. But the pressure of the Disputed Lands had changed the math. Moses was willing to trade the sovereignty of these islands for a stable, friendly neighbor who could choke Lysene trade.
Jon finished the letter and looked up, his expression unreadable.
"Your Archon's friendship is well-timed," Jon said slowly. "And his proposal is... intriguing. However, I must ask—what is the Archon's stance on the institution of slavery?"
The question hung in the air like a bared blade. Jared Lockner blinked, taken aback. The reports had mentioned the "Chainbreaker" name, but he hadn't expected Jon to challenge the literal foundation of Tyroshi economy in their first meeting.
"My Lord... I..."
"Speak freely," Jon encouraged, leaning forward. "I am simply curious."
"Slavery is the pillar of Tyrosh," Jared said, his voice regaining its diplomatic mask. "We require the labor to sustain our greatness."
"I see," Jon nodded, his eyes flashing with a cold, hidden light. "Then let us say we understand each other. Frodo, show our guest to his quarters. We have much to discuss."
Jared Lockner left the hall with a knot of unease in his stomach. He had brought gold, but he felt as though he were the one who had been bought.