Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

"To get someone to move, you first need to place a more comfortable stone at their feet..." When Euron asked Lisa how she could persuade her father, Lisa replied, "He is the King of the Iron Islands, and also your father. Although I've only met him once, I can sense his loneliness. Around King Coron, there is no wise person who truly understands his perspective; only arguments, struggles, opposition, and roars. Being in the mountains, one often cannot see the whole picture. Perhaps all it takes is for someone who can calmly dispel the fog, and the King will see the entire future!"

Euron laughed and said, "That makes sense!"

The heavy oak door to the Pike City patriarch's study was pushed open a crack, and five-year-old Euron 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 weariness. Euron Greyjoy stood with his back to the door before the enormous arched window, gazing at the leaden, churning sea outside, his broad shoulders slightly slumped.

"Father?" Euron's voice was soft, with a childlike clarity, breaking the heavy silence at just the right moment.

Koren didn't turn around, but just gave a low "hmm," the end of his voice carrying a lingering sense of irritation.

Euron went in and carefully closed the door. He didn't approach directly as usual, but stopped beside the huge table in the center of the room, piled high with nautical charts and scrolls. He needed some distance, and he needed a bit of "stage."

"Mother said...you were angered by Lord Zhuogu and the others again today." Youlun didn't use a question, but stated it, his voice carrying a hint of concern that was barely perceptible and appropriate for his age.

Corren finally turned around, the deep wrinkles on his face appearing even more pronounced in the dim light, his eyes weary yet sharp. He saw his young son, and in his son's eyes, a calmness beyond his years. This calmness sometimes comforted him, sometimes inexplicably unsettled him. "A bunch of salt-baked old fogies!" he growled, slamming his fist on the window frame, making the glass vibrate. "They only see the salted fish and the stolen scrap metal right in front of them, they have no idea where the future of the Iron Islands lies!"

Euron listened quietly, waiting for his father's anger to subside before speaking slowly, his voice still steady: "Father, you are right. The Iron Islands need change." He first affirmed his father's vision, which was the key point Lisa emphasized—affirm first, then guide.

Corren's gaze fell on the youngest son, scrutinizing him: "Oh? You think so too?"

"Yes." Euron took two steps forward, his heterochromatic eyes appearing exceptionally deep in the shadows. "But Father, have you ever considered...? Does the sea reshape the reefs through repeated, violent crashing, or through the silent erosion of the tides year after year?"

Colin frowned, clearly not expecting his son to use such an analogy.

Euron didn't pause; he had to keep pace: "Farmers on the continent don't think about digging up an entire mountain in a day when they cultivate wasteland. They clear a small area first, plant seeds, and wait for them to sprout and yield a harvest to prove that the land can support people before more people are willing to join in and cultivate a larger area together."

He walked to the table and pointed his little finger at the location of the Iron Islands on the nautical chart: "Our Iron Islands are like the toughest wasteland. You want to turn it into a fertile place like the Reach all at once, which is fine. But Uncle Zhuogu and Brother Baron are the kind of people who are used to the wilderness and are afraid of change. If you ask them to put down their axes and pick up their hoes immediately, they will only think you are crazy, or... betrayed the Drowned God."

Koren's eyes flickered, as if he was pondering his son's words.

"The Drowned God bestowed upon us the proverb, 'The dead are not truly dead; they will surely rise again,'" Euron's voice rose slightly, carrying a strange certainty that seemed to resonate with that ancient being. "But the Drowned God did not say that the rise must be in the old ways! Perhaps... using better iron to build stronger ships, using smarter methods to obtain warehouses full of food, using greater power to silence all those who mock the Iron Islands... This is the 'rising momentum' that the Drowned God truly wants the Ironborn to display in this era! Isn't this a greater display of the Drowned God's glory than stealing a few bags of gold or capturing a few slaves?"

Koren's breath seemed to catch in his throat for a moment. He had never thought of it from this perspective before. Drowning God... a new method? His sharp gaze was fixed on his infant son.

"Father, we don't need to liberate all the slaves immediately. But we can start in Pike City, right under your nose, by selecting a few mines or salt fields to try. Give the hardest-working and most obedient slave laborers a glimmer of hope—for example, if they work for five years without making a mistake, or learn a trade, they can become free citizens, or even be allocated a small plot of barren land to cultivate themselves? Let them see a future, and they will work even harder than if they were whipped! When the salt production in Pike City really increases and the warehouses are full, won't the lords on the other islands be envious? They'll come to you asking how you did it!"

"The ancient way... 'Paying iron coins' is the glory of our ancestors. To throw it all away at once is like throwing the bones of our forefathers into the sea; of course, everyone can't accept it. But we can... change it?" Euron's eyes gleamed with shrewdness. "For example, stipulate that longships cannot rob merchant ships flying the flags of the Seven Kingdoms? That would save a lot of trouble. But those pirate dens in the Steppes, those ships transporting 'live cargo' in Slaver's Bay... rob them! This isn't betraying the ancient way; it's 'cleaning up the garbage of the sea,' a righteous act that even the Drowned God would approve of! Part of what we rob will be distributed among the crew, and part will be given to you... to buy food, timber, and even to hire good blacksmiths to teach our people! This is called 'using the blood of our enemies to nourish our roots!'"

"The Seven Gods cultivators..." Eulen shook his head slightly. "Forced relationships are never happy. The Drowned God has lived in the Iron Islands for thousands of years; he can't be easily dismissed. Rather than letting them land on the island and causing the Drowned priests to fly into a rage, how about... we send a few clever Drowned apprentices to the Old Town Academy?" He adopted a reverse thinking approach, taking the initiative. "Let them learn how to keep accounts, how to build ships, and how to heal! When they return, they will be the best proof of the Drowned God's integration with knowledge! The Iron People will be more willing to listen to what they say! This is far more effective than ten Seven Gods cultivators standing on the dock chanting scriptures!"

"Opening the port is a brilliant idea, Father!" Euron's tone was filled with sincere admiration. "But to get ships to dare to come, simply opening the gates isn't enough. We need to convince them that they won't be chopped into bait once they enter. We can do two things first: First, designate a small 'safe zone' in Pike Harbor, guarded by your most trusted guards. Any Ironborn who dares to draw their weapons in the safe zone will be treated as a traitor to the family! Second, find one or two merchants who have done salt and iron trade with us a few times, and give them special protection and extremely low taxes. We might even allow them to open a small warehouse in the safe zone. Let them take the news of 'safe trade in the Iron Islands' back. Word will spread, and eventually, some merchants who are willing to risk their lives for money will be willing to give it a try. Just one ship returning safely and fully loaded is more effective than us shouting 'We've changed our minds' a hundred times!"

Euron finished speaking, his small chest rising and falling slightly. Only the crackling of the fireplace and the faint roar of the waves remained in the study. He looked up at his father, his heterochromatic eyes clear and resolute, awaiting his judgment.

Colin Greyjoy gazed at his young son for a long time. Some of the weariness seemed to fade from his face, replaced by a deep, complex mix of shock, unease, rekindled hope, and… an indescribable scrutiny. This child… his thoughts were so clear, so… cunning, yet so incisive. The problems he pointed out were precisely where he himself had stumbled and bled; the path he proposed, though slow, seemed more feasible, less likely to provoke a devastating backlash.

"These..." Coren's voice was a little hoarse. He slowly walked to the desk and sat down, his fingers unconsciously tapping the surface. "Did you come up with these yourself? Or did someone teach you?" He asked the key question.

"Lisa told me that changing people's hearts is like cooking a pot of soup; too much heat will burn it, but a slow simmer will allow the flavors to develop. Her words woke me up, and I thought about it for a very long time afterward," Euron answered honestly. "I want to help you, Father. I don't want to see you so angry with them every day, nor do I want to see the Iron Islands remain poor forever."

"Lisa? That little maid who speaks seven languages." Corren took a long, deep breath and exhaled heavily, as if to empty the pent-up emotions in his chest. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze once again fixed on the ever-restless sea outside the window, but this time, there seemed to be something different in his eyes.

"Slow-cooked..." he repeated the word softly, as if chewing on a piece of tough cured meat, trying to savor a new flavor. "Perhaps... it's a little smarter than for this old bone of mine to crash headlong into a rock." He looked at Euron, a tired but genuine smile of approval finally appearing on his face. "I'll try this slow-cooked soup."

Although King Coron did not make a decision immediately, Euron knew that his father had taken his words to heart with this tacit approval. Just as he was about to leave, Coron suddenly said, "Starting tomorrow, you will come with me to the council chamber."