Knowledge Is Power

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

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

Kolen laughed, lifting his son. "What has my little sea monster learned today?"

"The situations of the great houses, Father," Yulon replied, then added unexpectedly, "and about your intention to abolish the Old Way."

Kolen's smile froze. He glared at Maester Craigon, who quickly shook his head, indicating he hadn't told the child.

"How did you know this, son?" Kolen set Yulon down and crouched to meet his gaze.

Yulon blinked, feigning innocence. "I overheard you arguing with brother Balon, about stopping him from raiding at sea. You said the Old Way makes the Iron Islands poor."

Kolen's expression grew complex. He ruffled Yulon's hair. "You are too young to understand these things. The Old Way is how our ancestors lived. Changing it... is not easy."

Not easy? It was harder than climbing the heavens! It was difficult to break a bad habit, let alone one that had sustained tradition for hundreds, even thousands, of years! Yulon understood his father's predicament. The Iron Islands were barren and rocky, producing little food besides fish and seaweed. The Ironborn lived by raiding, but this way of life had become increasingly difficult to sustain since the Targaryen dynasty unified Westeros.

"Father," Yulon said suddenly, "if the Ironborn don't raid, what will we live on?"

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

"But will the other houses agree?"

Kolen gave a wry smile. "That is precisely the problem. Your brother Balon strongly opposes it."

Yulon remembered the stubborn Balon Greyjoy from the original story, the hardliner who had led the Iron Islands to two failed rebellions. Balon was only fifteen now, but his personality was already evident. What was more troublesome was that Balon Greyjoy was the eldest son and would inherit his father Kolen's title and rule. If father and son's ideologies didn't align, how could other lords be persuaded?

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

Kolen waved it off but still laughed heartily, lifting his son high. "You're only three and you already have political opinions!? My little sea monster will surely become an excellent lord someday!"

After Kolen left, Yulon returned to the window. On the distant horizon, a longship was sailing into the harbor, its sail emblazoned with the Greyjoy family's golden kraken. He knew it was a ship his father had sent to Lannister Port for trade, laden with iron ore and salt fish.

"Young Master," Maester Craigon said softly, "do you truly understand what your father is trying to do?"

Yulon turned, his dark blue eyes unusually bright in the dim room. "More than anyone, Maester. The Iron Islands must change, or they will be swept away by history."

Craigon gasped. Such words from a three-year-old child were chilling.

The following days were repetitive and uneventful, but Yulon's learning progress was astonishing. He not only mastered the situations of the great houses of the Iron Islands but also began learning basic navigation and weapon usage. Kolen was amazed by his young son's talent and personally crafted a small wooden sword for him.

Every afternoon, Yulon would appear punctually on the training ground, its surface covered in white sea salt, to receive warrior training.

"Grip it tighter, Yulon!" Uncle Balon's gruff voice instructed on the training grounds of Pike. This burly man, who would one day become commander of the Iron Fleet, was still a young man in his early twenties, his muscles as solid as ship's cables. "An Ironborn holds his sword as tightly as he holds a lover's waist!" He seemed to forget he was teaching a three-year-old child who knew nothing of lovers or how to hold them.

Yulon gripped the wooden sword with both hands and assumed a defensive stance. Balon Greyjoy laughed and swung his wooden sword down. Yulon managed to block it, but the force sent him tumbling to the ground.

"Not bad!" Balon pulled him up, patting Yulon's salt-dusted backside with his wooden sword. "Much better than Balon at your age."

Yulon brushed off his uncle Balon's hand, tightened his grip on the wooden sword, and said with a determined glint in his eyes, "Again!"

This world was never peaceful. Wars between men, wars of power games, and the future war against the White Walkers. To survive, one had to learn how to wield a sword and shield for self-preservation.

After training, Yulon went alone to the castle's library. Pike didn't have many books; most were navigational logs and war records. He stood on tiptoe and pulled a worn copy of A History of the Kings of Westeros from the shelf.

"Young Master, you can read already?" Maester Craigon's surprised voice came from behind him.

Yulon didn't answer. Instead, he opened the book, pointed to the words, and read, "'The Seahorse' Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, during the Dance of the Dragons..."

Craigon's beard trembled. "Gods above... you are a prodigy, Young Master."

Yulon gave a wry smile inwardly. With his adult memories, he could naturally read, but he had to control his pace to avoid arousing too much suspicion. He pretended to read with difficulty, occasionally "asking" Craigon for the pronunciation of certain words.

At sunset, Yulon was called to the family hall for dinner. Kolen sat at the head of the table, with Yulon's mother, Lady Sansa, a slender woman from Blackcrown, beside him. His brother Balon and uncle Balon sat on either side of the long table.

"I heard you made more progress today, Yulon," Kolen said with a smile, cutting into his salt fish.

Balon snorted. "What good is reading? A true Ironborn should learn to command longships and wield battle axes."

Kolen frowned. "Balon, how many times have I told you? Times are changing. Yulon's attitude towards learning is commendable."

Fifteen-year-old Balon's face was filled with defiance. Yulon observed this future "King Balon," noting the stubbornness in his eyes. In the original story, it was Balon's obstinacy that led to the Iron Islands' two failed rebellions and eventual ruin.

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

Balon scoffed. "How so?"

"By understanding the enemy's history and culture," Yulon replied calmly. "Knowing that House Redwyne of the Arbor likes to poison their wine can help us avoid ambushes. Understanding the pride of House Lannister allows us to use it to set traps. Familiarizing ourselves with the mottos and banners of various houses helps us understand their ways of doing things. Knowing the lifestyles and combat methods of people from different regions allows us to defeat them more effectively. There is an ancient saying in the East: Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles!"

The hall fell silent. Everyone stared at the three-year-old child, disbelieving these words came from him. Especially the ancient saying from the East, which was so profound, yet they had never heard it, leaving them greatly shocked.

Kolen, who had been eating with his head bowed, was the first to recover after hearing his second son's words. He laughed and slapped the table. "Well said! My son will surely become the most intelligent lord of the Iron Islands!" The burden of reform weighed down his spine—he proposed abolishing slavery, opening trade ports, and even allowing the Faith of the Seven onto the islands, all to drag the Iron Islands out of the bloody, rusty mire of the "Old Way." But his eldest son, Balon, had always opposed his reforms, filling Kolen with a sense of anger at his son's lack of progress. He turned and roared sternly, "Learn to think with a quill, not an axe! The Ironborn need a new anchor. Learn from your brother, read more books, and stop playing the Finger Dance with those dirty sailors!"

Balon's face turned grim. He jabbed at his food, falling silent. A new anchor! A new heir!? The stubborn Balon knew that the differences in ideology with his father had caused many conflicts and arguments, but he would never compromise, even if his father threatened him with the status of heir! He glanced at his calm younger brother, Yulon, his eyes filled with disdain—a brat who only knew how to flatter his father!

After dinner, Yulon was allowed a brief period of free movement within the castle. He wanted to go to the sea, but he was not permitted. He leaned against the window, gazing at the turbulent sunset sea in the distance. The sea breeze, carrying a salty tang, ruffled his curly hair, and the roar of waves crashing against the rocks filled his ears. He seemed to have offended his hot-tempered elder brother again in the dining hall, but Yulon didn't dwell on it, knowing that greater conflicts would arise between the brothers in the future due to their differing ideologies.

The struggle between reformers and conservatives was inevitable!

He recalled Yulon's mad actions in the original story—using the Dragon horn to control dragons, drinking Nightshade Water to gain precognition, and possibly even performing Blood Magic rituals. While those methods were effective, the cost was too high. Now, with modern knowledge and historical foresight, he might find a wiser path.

"Young Master! It's time for bed!" a maid's voice called from a distance.

Yulon cast one last look at the dark sea before turning towards the castle. He knew he had to consciously cultivate his own influence and befriend key future figures to prepare for the Iron Islands' transformation.

A three-year-old body housing an adult soul was both an advantage and a curse. He had to carefully hide his abnormality while seizing every opportunity to learn and grow. Behind the stone walls of Pike, the game of thrones had already begun, and he, Yulon Greyjoy, would no longer be the mad Crow's Eye of the original story, but a completely new being—a ruler combining modern wisdom with Ironborn ambition.

Back in his bedroom, Yulon knelt by the bed and offered a brief prayer to the Drowned God, as all children of the Iron Islands did. "Drowned God," Yulon murmured softly, "if you truly exist, grant me the strength to change the fate of the Iron Islands." Then he climbed into bed, closed his eyes, and his mind was already planning tomorrow's studies: basic navigation, the distribution of Iron Islands' resources, the marriage alliances between the great houses