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Lady Annara didn't stay for long with the child and left the room to the men and soon it was again filled with loud music, cheers, and dancing men.
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Past
Bear Island, over the next two weeks, was bathed in a sea of joy and celebration. There were festivities nearly every night in every house, and the people of Bear Island vividly recalled the difficult times of five years past.
In those days, they struggled to put food on their tables. There were only a handful of fishing boats, and those who possessed them were considered wealthy compared to the rest. But times had changed. Now, fishing boats dotted the island's shores, and the people enjoyed regular meals of meat, fish, and even fresh vegetables. Pork, once a luxury, was now within reach, and the new market boasted a variety of southern goods, including coal, thick furs, and finely crafted steel tools.
Their children attended newly established schools where they learned letters and numbers. Many men had joined the militia, becoming soldiers with proper swords, shields, armour, and training.
Furthermore, their island was now connected to the mainland, opening up trade routes and interactions with nearby clans. The once-feared wildlings had been tamed, and even the Ironborn had been brought to heel. Bear Island now felt like a paradise, free from its former troubles, with a bright and hopeful future ahead.
Present
One day, Tory, one of Lord Jorah's trusted aides, approached him with the news.
"M'Lord, the ships are returning. There are two from Lannisport and three from White Harbor," Tory informed Jorah, who was cradling his newborn son in the main hall.
Jorah, already aware of the ships' arrival through the eyes of his falcon, remained focused on his son. He responded without shifting his gaze, "Understood. Ensure the goods are stored properly in the warehouse and gather the shopkeepers for a meeting tonight."
Tory saluted and departed. Jorah continued to play with his child, relishing the opportunity to act as a doting father. He understood the importance of allowing his wife to rest, as the child's nighttime awakenings could drive her to madness.
Contrary to the typical stoic demeanour of Northern lords, Jorah openly displayed his affection for his wife and son. While some may have opinions on their lord playing the role of a nanny, no one dared to voice them.
Five large trading ships docked at Bear Island's ports; their holds filled with various goods. Barrels of coal, crates of fresh fruits, and other daily necessities were unloaded with precision. In the absence of sufficient traders, Jorah had established official shops and created a market on the island, though traders had yet to fully embrace the opportunity.
Understanding that a thriving economy required fluidity and freedom, Jorah controlled all the shops on the island for the time being, reaping considerable benefits for House Mormont.
Jorah ascended the tower's stairs, catching a glimpse of workers unloading the large crates from the ships. As he reached the upper level, he contemplated the myriad challenges he faced.
"Well, the next step should be to attract talent. But I can't rush things. First, the Maesters, then the silver mine, and now, recruitment... It's quite a handful," Jorah muttered to himself, his thoughts occupied with the pressing matters on his plate.
Future
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That night, Jorah convened a meeting with the 'shopkeepers' of Bear Island in the soldiers' quarters. He wanted Ser Stephen and other military leaders to hear firsthand information and analyse it at their level, recognizing the importance of firsthand intelligence.
After downing a large jug of ale, Jorah delivered a brief speech, acknowledging the invaluable work of the spies who operated in the shadows. He emphasized that their efforts brought hope to Bear Island, even though they worked unseen.
These simple words moved the rough men, and more than one eye glistened with unshed tears.
"M'Lord, I have gathered a wealth of information in White Harbor. There are clear indications of their expanding trade network along the northern shores. They seem to have covered nearly everything," one of the spies reported.
"Yes, M'Lord. I've also noticed a surge in merchants in recent weeks. It appears that no matter how much we sell, our goods are perpetually in short supply," another spy added.
"M'Lord, I've observed the disappearance of many old traders from White Harbor in the last few months. It seems they are extending their private channels in the North to rapidly cover new areas," the third spy chimed in.
Each spy shared their key findings, and their words sent a chill through those gathered in the room. For the first time, many realized that while they enjoyed freedom on Bear Island, the shores beyond were becoming less accessible. It was as if an invisible noose was tightening around their necks.
Jorah listened attentively to their reports but refrained from speaking immediately. Instead, he turned to Ser Stephen, seeking his analysis.
After a prolonged silence, Ser Stephen finally spoke, "I believe we have a high chance of coming into conflict with House Manderly, but we also have a chance to avoid it."
Jorah raised an eyebrow at the contradictory statement. "Explain."
"Lord, we are on the left, and they are on the right. Our shores are miles apart. Even if they continue expanding to the left, they cannot cross the land that separates our shores at the neck. As long as there is no canal connecting both sides, we are mutually restrained," Ser Stephen explained.
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