Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

"Euron!" A booming voice came from outside the door. Coron Greyjoy strode into the room, the scent of the sea breeze wafting in with him. He was tall, his black hair now streaked with silver, and the scars on his face told tales of countless naval battles.

"Father." Euron slid off the chair and gave a slightly awkward bow.

Koren laughed and picked up his son: "What did my little sea monster learn today?"

"The situation of the various families, Father," Euron replied, then unexpectedly added, "and your desire to abolish the Ancient Road."

Corren's smile froze. He looked sternly at Maester Clergon, who quickly shook his head to indicate that he hadn't told the boy.

"How do you know this, son?" Corin put Euron back on the ground and squatted down to look him in the eye.

Euron blinked, feigning innocence: "I heard you arguing with Brother Baron, stopping him from going out to sea to plunder. You said the Ancient Road made the Iron Islands poor."

Koren's expression became complicated. He patted Euron's head: "You're still too young to understand these things. The ancient path was our ancestors' way of life; changing it... isn't easy."

It's more than just difficult! Developing a good habit is hard, but changing a habit that has been upheld for hundreds or thousands of years is as difficult as ascending to heaven! Euron knew the predicament his father faced. The Iron Islands were barren and rocky, producing almost nothing but fish and seaweed. The Ironborn lived by raiding, but this way of life became increasingly unsustainable after the Targaryen dynasty unified Westeros.

"Father," Euron suddenly said, "if the Ironborn don't plunder, how will we live?"

Corren was astonished by his son's insight. "Trade, son. Barter our iron ore and saltwater for food, and build merchant ships instead of longships."

"But will the other families agree?"

Corren gave a wry smile: "That's precisely the problem; your brother Baron is strongly opposed."

Euron recalled the stubborn Balon Greyjoy from the original story, the inflexible figure who caused the Iron Islands' two rebellions to fail. Balon was only fifteen, but his character was already evident. More troublesome was that Balon Greyjoy was the eldest son, destined to inherit his father Coron's title and rule. With father and son holding opposing ideologies, how could they possibly persuade the other lords?

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

Koren didn't seem to care, but still laughed heartily, lifting his son high in the air: "You're only three years old and you already have political views?! My little sea monster will definitely grow up to be an outstanding lord!"

After Corren left, Euron returned to the window. In the distance, on the horizon, a longship was entering the harbor, its sails adorned with the golden sea monster of House Greyjoy. He knew it was a ship his father had sent to Lannisport for trade, laden with iron ore and saltwater fish.

"Young Master," Clygon said softly, "do you truly understand what your father wants to do?"

Euron turned around, his dark blue eyes unusually bright in the dim room: "I understand better than anyone, Maester. The Iron Islands must change, or they will be swept away by history."

Clygon gasped; it was chilling to hear such words coming from a three-year-old child.

The days that followed were repetitive and uneventful, but Euron's learning progress was astonishingly rapid. He not only mastered the information about the various families of the Iron Islands but also began to learn basic navigation and weapon handling. Coron was amazed by his youngest son's talent and specially made him a small wooden sword.

Every afternoon, Euron would appear on time at the training ground paved with white sea salt to receive training from the soldiers.

"Hold on tighter, Euron!" Uncle Balf gruffly instructed at the training grounds of Pike City. This burly man, who would one day become the commander-in-chief of the Iron Fleet, was still a young man in his early twenties, his muscles as solid as ship cables. "Hold your Ironborn sword as tightly as you would hold a lover's waist!" He seemed to have forgotten that he was only teaching a three-year-old child who had no idea what a lover was or how to hold a lover's waist.

Euron gripped the wooden sword with both hands, assuming a defensive stance. Balf Greyjoy laughed as he swung the wooden sword at Euron, who barely managed to block it but was knocked to the ground by the impact.

"Not bad!" Balf pulled him up, patted Euron's sea-salt-covered bottom with his wooden sword, and said, "Much better than Baron was at three years old."

Euron slapped his uncle Balf's hand away, gripped the wooden sword tightly, and said resolutely, "Again!"

This world has never been peaceful. There are wars between humans, wars in the game of power, and wars against the White Walkers in the future. To survive, one must learn how to use a sword and shield to protect oneself.

After training, Euron went alone to the castle's library. Pyke Castle didn't have many books; most were nautical logs and war records. He stood on tiptoe and pulled a tattered copy of "The Book of Kings of Westeros" from the shelf.

"Young master, you can already read?" Clergon's surprised voice came from behind.

Euron didn't answer. Instead, he turned to the page, pointed to the text, and read aloud: "'Seahorse' Corliss Valerian, Lord of the Tides, during the Dance of the Blood Dragons..."

Clygon's beard trembled: "Gods above...you are a prodigy, sir."

Euron smiled wryly to himself. With his adult memories, he could naturally read, but he had to control his pace to avoid arousing too much suspicion. He pretended to struggle as he read, occasionally "asking" Clygon about the pronunciation of certain words.

As the sun set, Euron was summoned to the family hall for a meal. Coron sat at the head of the table, next to his mother, Lady Sansa, a thin woman from Blackcrown City. His brother Balon and uncle Balf sat on either side of the long table.

"I heard you've improved again today, Euron," Corin said with a smile, cutting the salted fish on his plate.

Baron scoffed, "What's the use of studying? True Ironborn should learn to sail longships and wield battle axes."

Corren frowned. "Baron, I've said it countless times, times are changing. Euron's attitude towards learning is commendable."

Baron's fifteen-year-old face was filled with defiance. Euron observed this future "King Baron," noticing the stubbornness in his eyes. In the original story, it was Baron's obstinacy that led to the Iron Islands' two failed rebellions, ultimately resulting in the destruction of his family.

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

Baron scoffed: "How can I help?"

"By understanding the enemy's history and culture," Euron answered calmly, "knowing that the Redwynes of Greentree Island are fond of poisoning their wine can prevent us from being ambushed; understanding the Lannisters' pride can be used to set traps. Understanding the maxims and banners of various houses reveals their ways of life. Familiarity with the lifestyles and fighting styles of people in different regions is essential to defeating them. There's an old Eastern saying: 'Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated!'"

The hall suddenly fell silent. Everyone stared at the three-year-old child, unable to believe that these words had come from him. The ancient Eastern proverb, in particular, was very insightful, yet they had never heard it before, leaving them utterly astonished.

Corren, who had been eating with his head down and hunched over, was the first to snap out of his daze upon hearing his second son Euron's words. He burst into laughter, slamming his hand on the table: "Well said! My son will surely become the most intelligent lord of the Iron Islands!" The burden of reform weighed heavily on his back—he had proposed abolishing slavery, opening trading ports, and even allowing the Seven Gods monks to land on the islands, all to drag the Iron Islands out of the blood-stained quagmire of the "Ancient Road." But his eldest son, Baron, had consistently opposed his reforms, filling Corren with a frustrated anger. He turned and sternly shouted: "Learn to think with a pen, not an axe! The Ironborn need a new anchor. Learn from your brother, read more books, and stop playing finger games with those filthy sailors!"

Baron's face darkened. He stabbed fiercely at the food on his plate, falling silent. A new anchor! A new anchor? Or perhaps a new successor!? Stubborn Baron knew that his differing beliefs with his father had caused many conflicts and arguments, but he would never compromise because of it, not even if his father used the successor's position as a threat! He glanced at his composed younger brother, Euron, his eyes filled with disdain—a brat who only knew how to flatter their father!

After dinner, Euron was allowed some free time within the castle grounds. He longed to go to the seaside, but was not permitted. He leaned against the window, gazing at the distant, turbulent sea at sunset. The sea breeze, carrying a salty smell, ruffled his curly hair, and the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks filled his ears. He seemed to have inadvertently offended his hot-tempered brother again in the dining room, but Euron didn't dwell on it. He knew that in the future, the brothers would have even greater conflicts due to their differing beliefs.

The struggle between reformers and conservatives is inevitable!

He recalled Euron's madness in the original work—controlling dragons with the Dragon Horn, drinking the Nightshade Water to gain precognitive abilities, and possibly even performing blood magic rituals. Those methods, while effective, came at too high a price. Now, with modern knowledge and historical foresight, perhaps a wiser path could be found.

"Young master! It's time to sleep!" came the maid's voice from afar.

Euron took one last look at the dark sea before turning and heading back to the castle. He knew he had to consciously cultivate his own power, forge relationships with key figures for the future, and prepare for change in the Iron Islands.

A three-year-old body housing an adult's soul—this is both an advantage and a curse. He must carefully conceal his abnormality while seizing every opportunity to learn and grow. Behind the stone walls of Pyke, the Game of Thrones has begun, and he, Euron Greyjoy, will no longer be the mad Raveneye from the original stories, but a completely new being—a ruler who blends modern wisdom with the Ironborn's ambition.

Back in his bedroom, Euron knelt by the bed and, like all the Iron Islands children, offered a brief prayer to the Drowning God. "Drowning God," Euron murmured, "if you truly exist, grant me the power to change the fate of the Iron Islands." Then he climbed into bed, closed his eyes, and began planning tomorrow's lessons: basic navigation, the distribution of resources on the Iron Islands, the marriage alliances between the various families…