Knowledge Is Power

"Yulon!" a booming voice called from outside. Kolen Greyjoy strode into the room, bringing the scent of the sea breeze with him. He was tall, his black hair already streaked with silver, and the scars on his face told countless tales of naval battles.

"Father." Yulon slid off his chair and gave a slightly clumsy bow.

Kolen laughed and scooped his son up. "What has my little sea monster learned today?"

"About the Great Houses, Father," Yulon replied, then unexpectedly added, "And about how you want to abolish the Old Way."

Kolen's smile froze. He looked sternly at Maester Craigon, who hurriedly shook his head to show he hadn't told the child.

"How did you find out about that, son?" Kolen set Yulon down and crouched to meet his eyes.

Yulon blinked and put on an innocent expression. "I heard you arguing with my big brother Balon. You wouldn't let him sail off to raid, and you said the Old Way was making the Iron Islands poor."

Kolen's expression grew complicated. He ruffled Yulon's hair. "You're too young to understand these things. The Old Way is how our ancestors lived. Changing it... won't be easy."

"Won't be easy" barely covered it! Building a good habit was hard enough, but changing a tradition that had lasted for hundreds or even thousands of years was nearly impossible. Yulon understood the dilemma his father faced. The Iron Islands were barren and rocky, producing almost nothing to eat besides fish and seaweed. The Ironborn lived by raiding, but that way of life had become harder and harder to sustain since the Targaryen Dynasty united Westeros.

"Father," Yulon suddenly asked, "if the Ironborn don't raid, how will we survive?"

Kolen was surprised by his son's insight. "Trade, son. We'll exchange our iron ore and salted fish for food, and build merchant ships instead of longships."

"But will the other Houses agree?"

Kolen gave a bitter smile. "That's the problem. Your brother Balon is strongly opposed."

Yulon thought of the stubborn Balon Greyjoy from the original story, the diehard traditionalist whose actions had led to two failed rebellions by the Iron Islands. Balon was only fifteen now, but his personality was already showing. Worse, Balon Greyjoy was the eldest son and would inherit his father Kolen's title and rule. With father and son at odds, how could they persuade the other lords?

"I support you, Father," Yulon said earnestly.

Kolen didn't take him seriously, but still burst out laughing and lifted his son high in the air. "You've already taken a political stance at three!? My little sea monster will surely become an outstanding lord one day!"

After Kolen left, Yulon returned to the window. Far off on the horizon, a longship was sailing into the harbor, its sails bearing the golden sea monster of House Greyjoy. He knew it was one of his father's ships, sent to trade at Lannisport and loaded with iron ore and salted fish.

"My lord," Maester Craigon said softly, "do you truly understand what your father wants to do?"

Yulon turned around, his dark blue eyes unusually bright in the dim room. "Better than anyone, Maester. The Iron Islands must change, or they'll eventually be swept into the dustbin of history."

Craigon drew in a sharp breath. Hearing such words from a three-year-old was chilling.

The days that followed were repetitive and uneventful, but Yulon's progress in his studies was astonishing. He not only learned about the Great Houses of the Iron Islands but also began studying basic navigation and weapon use. Kolen was amazed by his youngest son's talent and had a small wooden sword made especially for him.

Every afternoon, Yulon appeared on time at the training ground paved with white sea salt, where he trained under a warrior's instruction.

"Grip it tighter, Yulon!" Uncle Balf barked as he coached him on the training ground at Pyke. The strongman, who would one day become commander of the Iron Fleet, was still in his early twenties, with muscles as tough as ship's cables. "An Ironborn should hold his sword as tightly as he'd hold his lover's waist!" He seemed to have forgotten that he was teaching a three-year-old, who had no idea what a lover was, let alone how to hold one by the waist.

Yulon gripped the wooden sword in both hands and took a defensive stance. Balv Greyjoy laughed and swung his wooden sword at him. Yulon barely blocked it, but the impact sent him sprawling onto the ground.

"Not bad!" Balv pulled him up and patted the sea-salt-dusted backside of Yulon's trousers with his wooden sword. "You're much better than Balon was at three."

Yulon slapped his uncle Balv's hand away, gripped the wooden sword tightly, and fixed him with a determined gaze. "Again!"

This world was never peaceful. There were wars between men, wars in the game of power, and the future war against the White Walkers. To survive, he had to learn how to use a sword and shield to defend himself.

After training, Yulon went alone to the castle library. Pyke held few books, most of them logs and records of war. He rose onto his toes and pulled a battered copy of A History of the Kings of Westeros from the shelf.

"My lord, can you already read?" Craigon asked in surprise from behind him.

Yulon didn't answer. Instead, he opened the book and pointed to the words as he read aloud: "'The Sea Horse,' Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, once... during the Dance of the Dragons..."

Craigon's beard trembled. "Gods above... You're a prodigy, my lord."

Yulon smiled wryly to himself. With an adult's memories, of course he could read, but he had to control his progress to avoid arousing too much suspicion. He pretended to struggle as he read, occasionally asking Craigon to explain the pronunciation of a word.

At sunset, Yulon was summoned to dine in the family hall. Kolen sat at the head of the table, with Yulon's mother, Lady Sansa, beside him—a frail woman from Blackcrown. His brother Balon and Uncle Balf sat on either side of the long table.

"I hear you've made more progress today, Yulon," Kolen said with a smile as he cut into the salted fish on his plate.

Balon snorted. "What good is reading? A true Ironborn should learn to sail a longship and swing a battle-axe."

Kolen furrowed his brow. "Balon, how many times have I told you? The times are changing. Yulon deserves praise for his diligence."

Fifteen-year-old Balon's face was full of resentment. Yulon watched this future "King Balon," noting the stubbornness in his eyes. In the original story, it was Balon's obstinacy that led to two failed rebellions by the Iron Islands and ultimately the ruin of his family.

"Big brother," Yulon suddenly said, "reading can help us fight better."

Balon scoffed. "How?"

"By understanding our enemies' history and culture," Yulon answered calmly. "If we know House Redwyne of the Arbor likes to poison wine, we can avoid being caught off guard. If we understand House Lannister's pride, we can use it to set a trap. Learning each House's maxim and coat of arms can tell us how they conduct themselves. We'll be better able to defeat people from other regions if we understand how they live and fight. There's an old saying from the East: 'Know yourself and your enemy, and you can win a hundred battles!'"

The hall fell silent. Everyone stared at the three-year-old, unable to believe the words had come from him. The Eastern saying in particular made perfect sense, yet none of them had ever heard it before. They were stunned.

Kolen had been eating with his head bowed, but he was the first to recover after hearing his second son Yulon speak. He laughed and slapped the table. "Well said! My son will become the wisest lord in the Iron Islands one day!" The burden of reform had bent his back. He had proposed abolishing slavery, opening trading ports, and even allowing the Faith of the Seven onto the islands, all to drag the Iron Islands out of the blood-rusted mire of the Old Way. But his eldest son Balon had always opposed his reforms, filling Kolen with a fury born of frustrated hope. He turned and shouted sternly, "Learn to think with a quill instead of an axe. The Ironborn need a new anchor. You should learn from your little brother, read more, and spend less time playing Finger Dance with those filthy sailors!"

Balon's face darkened. He stabbed at the food on his plate and said nothing more. A new anchor! A new anchor? Or a new heir!? Stubborn Balon knew that their differing beliefs had caused much of the conflict and arguing between him and his father, but he would never give in because of it—not even if his father used the threat of naming a different heir against him! He glanced at his composed younger brother Yulon, his eyes full of disdain. The little brat was nothing but a bootlicker who knew how to flatter Father!

After dinner, Yulon was allowed to wander around the castle for a short while. He wanted to go to the seaside, but wasn't allowed. He leaned against the window, gazing at the turbulent Sunset Sea in the distance. The sea breeze, sharp with salt, stirred his curls; the roar of waves crashing against the rocks filled his ears. It seemed he had accidentally offended his hot-tempered brother again at dinner, but Yulon didn't dwell on it. He knew that in the future, their differing beliefs would cause even greater conflict between them.

The struggle between reformers and traditionalists was unavoidable!

He recalled the mad deeds of Yulon in the original story—using the Dragon horn to control dragons, drinking Nightshade Water to gain the power of foresight, and perhaps even performing Blood Magic rituals. Those methods might have been effective, but the price was too high. Now, with modern knowledge and a foreknowledge of history, he might find a wiser path.

"My lord! It's time for bed!" a maid called from the distance.

Yulon took one last look at the sea in the darkness, then turned and walked toward the castle. He knew he had to deliberately build up his power and befriend key figures of the future to prepare for change in the Iron Islands.

An adult's soul lived inside a three-year-old's body. It was both an advantage and a curse. He had to conceal his unusual nature while taking every opportunity to learn and grow. The game of power had already begun behind Pyke's stone walls, and he, Yulon Greyjoy, would no longer be the mad Crow's Eye of the original story. He would be someone entirely new—a ruler who combined modern wisdom with Ironborn ambition.

Back in his bedroom, Yulon knelt beside the bed and said a brief prayer to the Drowned God, as all Iron Islands children did. "Drowned God," Yulon murmured, "if you truly exist, grant me the power to change the fate of the Iron Islands." Then he climbed into bed and closed his eyes, already planning tomorrow's lessons in his mind: the basics of navigation, the distribution of resources across the Iron Islands, the marriage alliances between the Great Houses...