CH-1: Spoils of War

"My lord! My lord?"

"Is it time, Tory?"

"Aye, it seems so, my lord. A rider came with a message. We are summoned to the Tower of the Hand." Tory, a towering and formidable warrior from House Mormont, replied respectfully to his lord.

"Hmm... It appears the time for rewards has arrived. Tory, pick a group of riders. The clean ones. Be ready in ten breaths."

Jorah gave the command and washed his face once more in the basin. He wiped his face and examined the cut above his left eye. The closest he ever felt to death in this world.

"Thankfully, the eyesight is not affected." He mumbled to himself.

At his seventeenth nameday, Jorah became Lord Mormont, the ruler of Bear Islands as his father decided that day to take the Black. This was just before the war and it could not be a worse time for him.

Bloody rules and honour. Jorah could never keep up with this medieval thinking. His father had to leave an honourable way for him to take his seat as a Lord but it didn't bring the happiness, he once thought it would.

"Bloody Gods! Throwing me into this damned world of blood, iron, and dragons." Cursing under his breath, Jorah hastily dried his body with a damp towel.

With his imposing Northern physique and the armour, he adorned, Jorah was a sight to behold, commanding respect and admiration. The scars he had acquired during the war only added to his reputation as a formidable warrior.

Stepping out of the tent, he effortlessly mounted his horse. Jorah, known as the Brave Bear, had earned his nickname during Robert's Rebellion, and now it was time to claim the rewards bestowed upon him by the new Hand of the King.

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"Welcome, Lord Jorah. The old bear would be proud of your accomplishments. I am certain he would be raising a toast on the Wall upon hearing of Bear Island's valour in this war."

"I am merely fulfilling my sworn duty, my lord, for the North and for the realm."

"Aye, I have no doubt about that. But every war must have its spoils. Come, take a seat," Lord Arryn spoke with a chuckle.

"Due to your personal contributions and the unwavering loyalty of Bear Island, the king has decided to grant you 15,000 gold dragons and exempt you from any crown levies for three years. Does this reward satisfy your desires, Jorah?"

"Lord Hand, more than a hundred men from Bear Island followed me into this war, and less than forty of them return. Moreover, news has reached us that our three warships now rest at the bottom of Dragonstone.

If you may recall correctly, while our Grace, King Robert Baratheon charged alone to battle the Targaryen prince, my army followed his call during the Battle of the Trident.

We were the ones getting attacked from all sides and yet we stood our ground. Defending our king and keeping him alive."

Jorah expressed his displeasure respectfully, voicing his discontent with the meagre reward offered. He was not a mere lapdog of the king but a Northern lord, and he had brought his best men into this war because he knew they would be the final winner in this rebellion.

However, Bear Island had paid a heavy price. Most of their warriors were either dead or injured, and their three warships had been lost. That loss lay partly on the shoulders of Stannis Baratheon, the king's own brother, who, despite having the best ships and sailors, failed to capture the fleeing Targaryen children.

"Speak your mind freely, boy," Jon Arryn encouraged.

The thin man knew Jorah was different from simple and straight Northern Lords. While others would spit at coppers and rather have some titles or the knighthood offered by the King himself, Jorah was different.

During the last two years of war, it was clear that the new Lord had no respect for such titles or honours. Strange man especially considering he is the son of the old bear.

Lord Arryn patted Jorah's shoulder and offered him some wine. Jorah took the glass and had a sip before speaking.

"I had hoped that His Grace, the king, would, in his wisdom, see fit to grant House Mormont the seat of the Iron Islands."

Jon Arryn, who had been sipping his wine attentively, choked on the drink upon hearing Jorah's request. He composed himself, taking deep breaths before responding.

"Lord Mormont, I can acknowledge the strength and valour House Mormont has shown. However, the notion that you can demand the Iron Islands in return is but a fool's dream. Your hundred warriors and three ships cannot be traded for an entire kingdom, no matter its size.

House Greyjoy and their allies hold dominion over those isles, and the crown has no authority to force them from their ancestral seat. They have also pledged their allegiance to the crown before. The war has just ended, and we shall not employ force against the Iron Islands to incite another conflict."

"But, Lord Hand, you must understand that for thousands of years, since the age of heroes, they have lived by their own law, causing suffering throughout the realm. They take women as thralls, children as miners, and murder men. They plunder and burn, turning their raids into nightmares for the entire North.

Even though the rest of Westeros has abolished slavery, the Greyjoy continue to engage in such practices."

"If the situation were as dire as you claim, I am sure Ned would have voiced his concerns," Jon Arryn countered.

"Lord Ned Stark has little understanding of the affairs of the North, and during the war, his attention was focused elsewhere," Jorah respectfully defended his position.

"Lord Mormont, are you suggesting that a Stark doesn't care for the North?" Jon Arryn asked, his anger apparent.

"Ned Stark is now our lord, and we shall serve him the same way we did for the Starks before him but to claim Ned Stark is a good lord for the north is a far-fetched idea, my lord.

He has just taken the Lordship of his house and that was after the war started. He has no idea about the problems of Winterfell, let alone problems of Bear Islands."

Jorah replied calmly, pouring himself another cup of wine. The drink was exquisite, far beyond anything he had tasted before.

Jon Arryn, lost in thought, glared at Jorah before speaking.

"Lord Greyjoy has not committed any actions against the crown or the realm that warrant the unjust seizure of his lands. My honour forbids such actions.

However, I make this oath: should Lord Greyjoy ever rebel, and should your house prove its worth in quelling that rebellion, I can promise you land based on your contributions. But not now. For the time being, you may request something else."

Jorah felt disappointment in the end, but he restrained himself from showing it. Finishing his drink swiftly, he addressed the Hand of the King.

"Then I hope the weight of the gold can match the weight of our achievements in this war, my Lord Hand," Jorah Mormont finally voiced his thoughts before the meeting concluded.