The fires of war that had once raged across Westeros now flickered into a dim and violent lull. The war had stretched beyond what any had expected, but Edward Grafton, ever perceptive, knew the inevitable truth: peace—or some grim facsimile of it—was approaching. No side had won decisively, but exhaustion loomed. Robert Baratheon's forces remained determined, yet weary; the Targaryen loyalists clung to fractured command; and the smallfolk bled on all sides.
Edward understood it: time was running short.
Territorial gains were no longer feasible. The Reach had stabilized, the Westerlands were recovering, and the Riverlands—burned and battered—had hardened under guerrilla resistance. Gulltown's influence in the Vale had reached its natural limit without provoking a full confrontation with House Arryn, something Edward was not yet prepared for.
So, he turned his gaze eastward. Toward the sea.
From his war room, Edward stood before a newly drawn map. This one was different—no mountain passes or sigils of Westerosi nobility. It bore coastlines, shipping routes, ocean currents. At its center: the Sisters. The isles—Sweetsister, Longsister, and Littlesister—were often dismissed as wild and petty territories. Governed by the petty Lords Sunderland, they had long been a thorn to both Gulltown and White Harbor, notorious for piracy, shifting loyalties, and unpredictable behavior.
But Edward saw their value.
If he controlled the Sisters, he could regulate—if not outright dominate—White Harbor's maritime trade. More than that, he could serve as a gatekeeper between the North and the eastern markets of Essos. A man who controlled the sea between the Vale and the North could cripple Northern supply lines during peace or war.
And so began a quiet campaign.
He started with merchants.
Letters were dispatched to several influential families in White Harbor, disguised as simple trade agreements. These promised reduced tariffs, exclusive contracts, and preferred shipping lanes—so long as they used Gulltown's ports as a central hub. Within weeks, several key merchants began redirecting their cargo through Gulltown ships. Edward then used those same routes to influence the Sistermen, offering protection from pirates in exchange for docking rights and trade guild licenses.
He approached the Sunderlands next.
Publicly, they were independent lords—proud, volatile, and not easily tamed. But Edward was patient. He sent emissaries offering coin and luxury. One of their lesser cousins was invited to Gulltown as a "guest" and quietly groomed to serve Edward's purposes. Bribes followed. Then came the weapons.
When a group of pirate raiders sacked the port of Littlesister, Edward responded not with condemnation but with fleets. His new ships—sleek, fast, and Essosi in design—chased the pirates into the narrow straits and obliterated them.
The message was clear: Gulltown was the new protector of the eastern sea.
As the Sisters began to bend, Edward reinforced Gulltown's coastal defenses. Shipyards worked day and night. Tyroshi and Myrish shipwrights oversaw construction. Within a season, Gulltown boasted one of the most powerful naval presences in the Narrow Sea.
He secured alliances with coastal Vale houses—House Grafton had long feuded with House Sunderland, but now his growing navy changed the balance of power. Smaller lords like House Borrell and House Longthorpe saw the tides shift and pledged neutrality or quiet cooperation.
Simultaneously, Edward fortified his inland borders. Garrisons were built at strategic points across the Vale's eastern frontier. Roads were paved for faster mobilization. A network of scouts and ravens relayed constant updates to his command. These measures, though quiet, ensured Gulltown remained untouchable.
Diplomatically, Edward walked a tightrope. He never formally declared independence from Jon Arryn or the Eyrie. Instead, he portrayed his actions as "defensive modernization." But his enemies were not fooled. Letters from the Eyrie became more pointed. House Royce, still smarting from their decline, raised concerns. Yet none dared open a new front in a waning war.
Edward had time—and he was using it well.
One evening, he met with his inner circle in a hidden chamber beneath his keep. The walls were carved into the bedrock itself, with no windows and only one reinforced door.
"The Sisters will fall within two moons," said Ser Jareth, his naval commander. "Our influence is growing. The Sunderlands are ripe for division."
"Divide them," Edward ordered. "Secure the harbors. Seize their fleet under the guise of alliance. Their pride will be their leash."
"And White Harbor?" asked Maester Alros.
Edward smiled faintly. "Once they depend on our routes, they will not resist. Trade will bind them tighter than steel."
He tapped the map again. "Let them believe the war is coming to an end. Let them lower their guard. When peace comes, Gulltown will be the economic heart of the East—and the Sistermen its chained fingers."
The others nodded.
Meanwhile, Edward continued his correspondence with Essos. The merchant cities were thrilled at the disruption of traditional Westerosi shipping routes. Braavos offered more loans. Pentos proposed a joint venture in shipbuilding. Lys sent exotic trade goods and more discreet offers—assassins, spies, and courtesans to serve Gulltown's ambitions.
By the end of the moon, Edward had doubled the size of his fleet. Three new drydocks were constructed. More than that, he had silenced several nobles who had opposed the expansion. Their deaths were blamed on bandits, illness, or unfortunate maritime accidents.
No one could prove otherwise. And fewer still dared to try.
He stood once more at the window of his tower, looking over the sea.
His plans on land had reached their limits, but the sea? The sea was boundless.
And Edward Grafton intended to rule it.