Chapter 271: Jorah and His Father

"Did you hear, Jon? The Lord Commander's son came to see him," asked Grenn the "Aurochs".

Jon Snow, the bastard son of Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was stuck cleaning the Night's Watch dining hall with his friends—punishment from the spiteful Ser Alliser Thorne. Rumors had been swirling that a distinguished guest was arriving today, said to be not only an envoy of an "Emperor" but also the son of the Lord Commander.

"Jorah Mormont," Jon replied, pausing his work. "I heard my father... I heard Lord Stark mention him. He was supposed to be executed for selling people into slavery, but he escaped."

"I heard he's with Viserys now, some kind of exiled Targaryen, right? But Viserys is an emperor now, so do the laws of Westeros even apply to him?" Pyp, always curious, asked with a frown, his large ears twitching as he spoke.

Jon couldn't answer that. Viserys had issued a Grand Announcement, but it had made no mention of the Wall, though his deeds were well known throughout the realm.

Jon actually admired Viserys. Before joining the Night's Watch, his idol had been Daeron Targaryen, the Young Dragon. Viserys was as young as Daeron, yet his achievements had far surpassed Daeron's. Though Jon didn't know all that had happened since Viserys took control of Tyrosh, what he did know left him in awe—especially the rumors of dragons being reborn.

He longed to see a dragon for himself, but he knew the Night's Watch could not leave the Wall without permission, on pain of death. Jon recalled the deserter his father had executed before he came to the Wall, and he quickly suppressed the yearning inside him.

Suddenly, the door to the dining hall was kicked open with a resounding thud, and a lean, stern Night's Watch member with grey hair strode in. It was Jon's "old enemy," Ser Alliser Thorne, the training officer of the Night's Watch.

"Ah, Lord Snow, I see you're idly chatting away," Ser Alliser sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did I not say an important guest was arriving today? One whom even the Lord Commander himself is entertaining?" Alliser had a knack for cutting insults, and he relished in taunting Jon by mockingly calling him "Lord," fully aware that as a bastard, Jon could never hold such a title.

Jon remained silent, scrubbing the floor diligently, refusing to rise to the bait. This only seemed to irk Ser Alliser further. In truth, Alliser wasn't particularly interested in the Mormonts' affairs. What concerned him was the promise that Viserys Targaryen would soon be bringing several ships laden with food and weapons—supplies that would sustain the Night's Watch for a long time.

Jorah Mormont had been sent ahead of Viserys to the Wall, first traveling by boat to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the easternmost point of the Wall. From there, he was escorted to Castle Black. Upon learning that his estranged son had arrived, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, reluctantly granted him an audience.

Also present were Maester Aemon Targaryen, who had served at Castle Black for decades; Ser Denys Mallister, commander of the Shadow Tower; and several other officers.

Given the public nature of the meeting, the Lord Commander—known as the Old Bear—refrained from asking personal questions, focusing instead on Viserys's intentions regarding the Wall.

"His Grace Viserys is deeply concerned about the situation beyond the Wall, particularly the threat posed by the wildlings," Jorah reported, his gaze avoiding his father's. "He will be coming soon himself, bringing much-needed supplies." Jorah couldn't meet his father's eyes, feeling the weight of the disappointment he had caused. The Old Bear had once placed so much hope in him, only for Jorah to betray that trust. Yet, his words brought some relief to the Old Bear.

The Night's Watch held no political allegiance; the Old Bear didn't care who sat on the Iron Throne, only that the lords in the South would offer more support to Castle Black. He had sent countless letters pleading for reinforcements, but they had largely gone unanswered. The Night's Watch was severely undermanned, and with wildling incursions growing more frequent, Castle Black was being stretched to its limits.

"Did His Grace Viserys come to the Wall merely to deliver supplies? He should know that the Night's Watch takes its vows from no one," the Old Bear inquired, his tone edged with suspicion.

Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, wasn't certain of Viserys's true intentions. He suspected the Targaryen might be seeking to have Castle Black swear allegiance, something unthinkable for the Night's Watch. Had it been someone like Regis making this demand, the Old Bear would have met it with scorn. But with Jorah standing before him, he restrained himself, waiting for an explanation. Just as Jorah was about to speak, the raven perched on the Old Bear's shoulder croaked out, "Oaths! Oaths! Oaths!"

Unperturbed, Jorah replied, "No, His Grace is genuinely concerned about the situation at the Wall. He commands a vast army and recently defeated the Dothraki. Now, he controls the whole of the Hopeful Lands."

"Hopeful Lands?" Maester Aemon interjected, his blind eyes gazing into the distance. Though he had been silent until now, the mention of this name piqued his interest. Despite his blindness and advanced age, Aemon's mind remained as sharp as ever.

"It's what he calls the Disputed Lands," Jorah explained, briefly recounting how Viserys had triumphed over the Dothraki. The men of the Night's Watch listened intently, captivated as though they were hearing a tale from a distant land.

"You even crossed the Sorrows?" Aemon asked, his curiosity deepening. Though he had long ago taken the black, severing ties with House Targaryen, hearing of the tragic fate that had befallen his family after Robert's Rebellion still pained him. The news of Viserys's recent exploits in the Free Cities stirred something within him—a mixture of sorrow and pride.

Jorah nodded, confirming Aemon's question. "Yes, and His Grace's victory there has only strengthened his resolve. He truly means to support the Wall, not to demand its loyalty."

Aemon, reflecting on the stories he had heard from new recruits about the exiled Viserys and Daenerys, couldn't help but feel a rekindled interest in the fate of the last Targaryens. The thought that they might be stirring up such turmoil in the Free Cities was enough to make even an old man wonder what would come next.

"The Sorrows! The Sorrows! The Sorrows!" Old Bear's raven cawed once more, its eerie cry echoing through the hall.

"Yes, Maester Aemon," Jorah continued, "His Grace led 10,000 cavalrymen through the Sorrows, yet not a single one was afflicted with grayscale."

"That's... astonishing," Aemon murmured, clearly impressed. "Could it be that Viserys has found a cure for grayscale?" The old Maester's curiosity was piqued, as it always was when the subject turned to knowledge and mysteries.

"I'm not sure," Jorah admitted. "But His Grace will be arriving at Castle Black soon, and I'm certain he would be happy to discuss it with you."

Aemon nodded, anticipation flickering in his blind eyes. It had been decades since he had last seen a Targaryen, and the thought of meeting Viserys stirred something within him. He recalled the first time he heard Jon's voice—how, for a fleeting moment, he had thought Jon might be a Targaryen. That brief hope had filled him with joy, only to be replaced by disappointment when Jon's true identity was revealed.

"I have one last question," the Old Bear said, his voice cutting through the silence. Jorah sat up straighter, bracing himself.

"Why has His Grace Viserys come to Castle Black?" Jeor Mormont asked, his gaze piercing. "Not only has he refrained from demanding our allegiance, but he's also brought a substantial amount of supplies. What does he want in return?"