Persuading

To make someone move, you first need to place a more comfortable stone under their feet... When Yulon asked Lysa if she had any way to persuade his father, Lysa replied, "He is the King of the Iron Islands, and he is also your father. Although I have only met your father once, I can feel that he is very lonely. By King Kolen's side, there is no wise man who truly thinks for him from his perspective, only arguments, fights, opposition, and roars. When you are in the mountains, you often cannot see the whole picture of the mountains. Perhaps all it takes is for someone to calmly part the fog a little, and the King will see all the future!"

Yulon laughed, "Makes sense!"

A thick oak door to the study of the chieftain of Pike was pushed open a crack, and five-year-old Yulon Greyjoy slipped in, quickly closing the door behind him. The room was filled with the strong smell of sea salt and a heavy sense of exhaustion. Kolen Greyjoy stood with his back to the door, facing the huge arched window, gazing out at the lead-grey, surging sea, his broad shoulders slightly slumped.

"Father?" Yulon's voice was soft, with the clear tone unique to children, breaking the heavy silence at just the right moment.

Kolen didn't turn around, only let out a low "Mm," the end of his voice carrying an lingering annoyance.

Yulon walked in and carefully closed the door. Instead of approaching directly as usual, he stopped by the large desk in the center of the room, piled high with sea charts and scrolls. He needed some distance, and he needed a "stage."

"Mother said... Lord Drumm and the others angered you again today." Yulon stated it as a fact, not a question, his voice carrying a subtle, age-appropriate concern.

Kolen finally turned around, the deep lines on his face appearing even deeper in the dim light, his eyes tired yet sharp. He saw his youngest son, and also the unusual calmness in his son's eyes, a calmness that sometimes comforted him, and sometimes inexplicably made him feel a hint of unease. "A bunch of old stubborn fools whose brains have been pickled in salt!" he growled, slamming a fist on the window frame, making the glass hum. "They can only see the meager dried fish and looted scrap metal in front of them, and they have no idea where the future of the Iron Islands lies!"

Yulon listened quietly, and after his father's anger subsided slightly, he slowly spoke, his voice still steady, "Father, you are right. The Iron Islands need to change." He first affirmed his father's vision, which was the key point Lysa had emphasized—affirm first, then guide.

Kolen's gaze fell on his youngest son, scrutinizing him. "Oh? You think so too?"

"Yes." Yulon took two steps forward, his mismatched eyes appearing particularly deep in the shadows. "But Father, have you ever thought... does the sea change the shape of the reefs by crashing against them violently again and again, or by the silent erosion of the tides year after year?"

Kolen frowned, clearly not expecting his son to offer such a metaphor.

Yulon didn't pause; he had to maintain his rhythm. "Farmers on the mainland don't try to clear an entire mountain in a day when reclaiming wasteland. They first clear a small patch, plant seeds, wait for them to sprout, and harvest. Only when they prove that the land can sustain people will more people be willing to join and reclaim larger areas."

He walked to the desk, his small finger pointing to the location of the Iron Islands on the sea chart. "Our Iron Islands are like the most stubborn piece of wasteland. You want to make it as prosperous as the Riverlands all at once, which is good. But Uncle Drumm and Brother Baron, they are the ones who are used to the wilderness and fear change. If you ask them to immediately put down their axes and pick up hoes, they will only think you are crazy, or... have betrayed the Drowned God."

Kolen's eyes flickered, as if chewing on his son's words.

"The Drowned God bestows upon us the maxim 'What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger'," Yulon's voice rose slightly, with a strange certainty, as if resonating with that ancient entity. "But the Drowned God did not say that the resurgence must be in the old way! Perhaps... building stronger ships with better iron, exchanging for full granaries with smarter methods, and making all those who mock the Iron Islands shut up with greater power... isn't this a more glorious display of the Drowned God's glory in this era than snatching a few bags of gold or capturing a few slaves?"

Kolen's breathing seemed to pause for a moment. He had never thought of it from this angle. The Drowned God... a new way? His sharp gaze locked onto his youngest son.

"Father, we don't need to free all the slaves immediately. But we can try it first in Pike, under your very eyes, in a few mines or salt pans. Give the most diligent and obedient slave laborers a little hope—for example, if they work for five years without fault, or learn a craft, they can become free men, or even be given a small piece of barren land to farm themselves? Let them see a future, and they will work harder than they would under the lash! When the salt production in Pike truly increases and the warehouses are full, won't the lords of other islands become envious? They will come to you themselves to ask how you did it!"

"The Old Way... paying with Iron Coins is the glory of our ancestors. Throwing it all away at once is like throwing the bones of our ancestors into the sea, of course people won't accept it. But we can... change it a little?" Yulon's eyes twinkled with shrewdness. "For example, stipulate that longships cannot plunder merchant ships flying the banners of lords in the Seven Kingdoms? This can cause much less trouble. But those pirate dens in the Stepstones, those ships in the Slave Bays transporting 'live cargo'... plunder them! This is not betraying the Old Way, this is 'cleaning the trash from the sea,' a righteous act that even the Drowned God would approve of! Part of the plunder will be distributed to the crew, and part will be given to you... to buy grain, wood, or even hire good blacksmiths to teach our people! This is called 'nurturing our roots with the blood of our enemies'!"

"Faith of the Seven..." Yulon shook his head slightly. "Forced melons are not sweet. The Drowned God has resided in the Iron Islands for thousands of years; he cannot be asked to leave just like that. Instead of letting them come ashore and make the Drowned Priests jump with anger, why don't we... send a few smart Drowned apprentices to the Oldtown Citadel?" Reverse thinking, proactive attack. "Let them go learn how to keep accounts, how to build ships, how to treat illnesses! When they return after completing their studies, they will be the best proof of the Drowned God combined with knowledge! The Ironborn will be more willing to listen to what they say! This is much more useful than ten Faith of the Seven priests chanting scriptures on the docks!"

"Opening the ports is a golden idea, Father!" Yulon's tone was filled with sincere admiration. "But for ships to dare to come, just opening the door is not enough; they must believe that they won't be chopped into fish bait once they enter. We can do two things first: First, designate a small 'safe zone' in Port of Pike, guarded by your most trusted guards. Any Ironborn who dares to draw a weapon in the safe zone will be punished as a traitor to the family! Second, find one or two merchants who have traded salt and iron with us several times and are bold enough. Give them special protection and extremely low taxes, and even allow them to open a small warehouse in the safe zone. Let them spread the news that 'trading in the Iron Islands is safe.' As the news spreads, there will always be merchants who value money over their lives and are willing to try. As long as one ship returns safely with a full cargo, it will be more effective than us shouting a hundred times, 'We have changed!'"

After Yulon finished, his small chest heaved slightly. The only sounds in the study were the crackling of the firewood in the fireplace and the faint roar of the waves. He looked up at his father, his mismatched eyes clear and firm, awaiting judgment.

Kolen Greyjoy gazed at his youngest son for a long time. The fatigue seemed to have faded a little from his face, replaced by a deep, mixed sense of shock, complexity, rekindled hope, and... a hint of indescribable scrutiny. This child... his thoughts were so clear, so... cunning, yet so to the point. The problems he pointed out were precisely the ones Kolen had been banging his head against; the paths he proposed, though slow, seemed more feasible and less likely to provoke destructive backlash.

"These..." Kolen's voice was somewhat hoarse. He slowly walked behind the desk and sat down, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the tabletop. "Did you think of these yourself? Or did someone teach you?" He asked the crucial question.

"Lysa told me that changing people's hearts is like simmering a pot of old soup; boiling it over high heat will burn it, but slow simmering over low heat will make it flavorful. Her words enlightened me, and I thought about it for a long, long time afterward," Yulon answered honestly. "I want to help you, Father. I don't want to see you get angry like this every day, nor do I want to see the Iron Islands remain poor forever."

"Lysa? That little maid who speaks seven languages?" Kolen took a long, deep breath and exhaled heavily, as if to expel all the accumulated frustration from his chest. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to the perpetually restless sea outside the window, but this time, there seemed to be something different in his eyes.

"Slow simmering..." he repeated the words in a low voice, as if chewing on a piece of hard cured meat, trying to taste a new flavor. "Perhaps... it's smarter than my old bones crashing against the reefs." He looked at Yulon, a tired but genuine smile of approval finally appearing on his face. "I will taste this slow-simmered soup."

Although King Kolen did not immediately make a decision, Yulon knew that his father had accepted this tacit approval and was about to leave when Kolen suddenly said, "Starting tomorrow, you will come to the council hall with me."