In the dimly lit corridor of the "Siren's Nest" brothel, Pamela Fisher's eyes darted quickly around the corner. Seeing the coast was clear, she expertly dragged a knocked-out guard—stripped to his smallclothes and gagged with a dirty rag—into an empty room. Euron, waiting inside, snapped the man's neck with a quick, practiced twist.
Moments later, Euron Greyjoy stepped out, fully dressed in the dead guard's uniform. He kept his head low, blending seamlessly into the transport unit that had just finished "restocking" at the Siren's Nest and was preparing to head back to the Starfish Harbor garrison.
Pamela's bribes and cover story were flawless. The gate guards barely glanced at the familiar group before waving them through.
Starfish Harbor was heavily guarded, but total lockdown was impossible in a working port. Using his disguise and the scraps of intel Pamela had fed him, Euron navigated the checkpoints like a ghost. He slipped past most of the patrols, moving closer and closer to the nerve center of the port—specifically, a study within the Redwyne castle that overlooked the docks.
He could hear arguing from inside. The window of opportunity was closing. In a deserted corner, Euron quickly pulled a strange, violet-colored fruit from his tunic.
[Transparent Fruit] — Single-use. Duration: 30 minutes. Does not conflict with existing Devil Fruit abilities.
Euron swallowed it whole. A strange sensation washed over him instantly. His body seemed to melt like ink into water, blurring, fading, and then vanishing completely. He was gone. An invisibility fruit—short-lived, but enough to get the job done.
Moving like an invisible wind, he crept along the cold stone wall until he was right outside the brightly lit study window. The heavy curtains weren't fully drawn, leaving a narrow slit. Through it, the heated argument spilled out into the night air.
Ser Harlan Grandison of the Kingsguard, despite his white cloak, was red-faced with fury. He had lost his usual knightly composure and was practically snarling.
"...Lord Adrian! Wake up! This isn't a request; it is a gift from the King! Do you have any idea what it cost to transport these 'things' here safely? Do you know the risks we took?! One slip-up and—"
Lord Adrian Redwyne didn't look any happier. He stood over his desk, leaning forward aggressively, his finger stabbing the wood. "A gift? A risk? Ser Harlan! I appreciate the King's 'goodwill,' but what you call a gift—these dozens of wagons, these thousands of jars—is wildfire!"
He squeezed the word through his teeth like it was poison. "That unstable, green nightmare that only the Alchemists' Guild can brew! You want me to use that against the Iron Fleet?!"
Outside the window, Euron—even in his invisible state—felt his breath catch.
Wildfire!
So that was it. His eyes (still functional despite his invisibility) instantly locked onto the heavily guarded convoy that had just arrived at the docks. A cold, electric thrill shot down his spine. If he could use his Soul-Soul Fruit powers to create a tiny, searing sun right here, and toss it into those wagons...
The argument inside cut off his train of thought.
"It is the fastest, most direct way to victory!" Ser Harlan argued, trying to keep his voice down. "Once wildfire sticks to an Ironborn longship, nothing can put it out! They will burn to ash in green flames! The entire Whispering Sound will be their funeral pyre! This war could be over in an instant!"
"Over? Over at what cost?!" Lord Adrian's voice rose, thick with insulted pride. "Using that... that disgusting substance? Those cowardly tactics?! Ser Harlan! Who do you think we are? We are House Redwyne! We possess the most powerful, well-trained fleet in the Seven Kingdoms! My men are masters of naval warfare; my captains are veterans! We will defeat these Ironborn pirates on the open sea, fair and square, with skill, courage, and strategy! Not with some alchemical abomination that burns friend and foe alike and could set the entire Arbor on fire if a single jar breaks!"
He swept his arm toward the window, pointing at the silhouettes of his warships. "Victory should come from our sails and our swords, not from green curses in a jar! Even if we won that way, there would be no honor in it for House Redwyne! What would the Seven Kingdoms say? They'd say the Arbor's vineyards were saved by wildfire, not bravery!"
"You—you are stubborn! This is foolish pride!" Ser Harlan was shaking with anger, his armor clinking beneath his white cloak. "War is only about winning and losing! The King wants the Iron Islands to kneel, he doesn't care about your knightly chivalry!"
"Then leave, Ser Harlan!" Lord Adrian didn't back down an inch. "Go back and tell His Grace that the Arbor and House Redwyne thank him for his 'kindness,' but we do not need it! We will win this war our own way! We will defend our home ourselves!"
The study fell into a dead silence, broken only by their heavy breathing.
After a moment, Ser Harlan Grandison let out a snort of supreme disappointment and rage. "Fine! Fine! Adrian Redwyne, you will regret this 'pride' of yours! I hope you remember these words when the Ironborn are hacking at your castle gates with their axes!"
With that, Ser Harlan spun on his heel, his armor clanking, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Shortly after, as his invisibility began to fade, Euron watched Ser Harlan grimly gather his White Cloak brothers and the Royal guards. Barking angry orders, he personally escorted the dozen heavy wagons—loaded with thousands of jars of volatile wildfire—out of Starfish Harbor. They rolled away in a cloud of frustration, hauling away what was meant to be the hope of victory, now just a dangerous, rejected insult.
As the invisibility wore off, Euron's silhouette slowly re-emerged from the shadows. He watched the convoy disappear into the distance, his eyes flashing with a complicated mix of emotions.
There was mockery for the Redwynes' stupid arrogance. There was a faint regret for the missed opportunity to turn the Arbor—and House Redwyne along with it—into a sea of green fire. But mostly, there was a sharp, calculating gleam as he re-evaluated the board.
Adrian Redwyne had chosen the "honorable" path. Even if that path meant his fleet would bleed a lot more before this was over.
Euron slipped back into the shadows as silently as he had come, leaving the noise of Starfish Harbor and House Redwyne's expensive "pride" behind him.