Ch 59: Giant Leap of Bears

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Jorah observed the departing ship through the eyes of his falcon and felt a pang of sadness. Tyrion was a good man, but he was a Lannister, and Jorah was the Lord of Bear Island. Sympathy could be extended to his character, but beyond that, Jorah had to consider his own future and that of his people.

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After the completion of the book order from the church, three teams of dedicated workers toiled day and night to fulfil the order, accomplishing the task on the eighteenth day. The maesters of Bear Island eagerly awaited the delivery, still astounded by the efficiency of the magical printing press.

"Maester Holdan, this printing press is truly extraordinary. I dare say, it's the most significant innovation in Westeros in the last fifty years," Maester Lyman, who had just returned from a guest lecture at the Newton school, couldn't help but praise the ingenious contraption.

"Hmm... And how were the students, Lyman?" Maester Holdan inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Bright, hardworking, and utterly focused. It's as if they are yearning for knowledge as if it were their own salvation. Give them a few more years, and they might very well take over the Citadel," Maester Lyman replied with a cheerful smile.

Maester Lyman found immense joy in passing on his knowledge to the younger generation in his twilight years. It felt like leaving behind an inheritance, a family heirloom of wisdom. As a second son, he'd never inherited material wealth, but the opportunity to shape young minds was a legacy he was determined to leave behind.

"Only you could find such happiness in tireless work," Maester Holdan remarked, a fond smile playing on his lips.

"Lord Mormont is waiting for the gold. Have you conveyed that to Maester Reynolds?" Maester Holdan inquired.

"Reynolds has already sent the ravens. Fortunately, Lord Glover's ravens have returned safely from the Island falcons," Maester Holdan replied, settling into his seat with a glass of fine wine.

Fifteen days later, five ships bearing the red sun with seven spikes, the emblem of the Faith of the Seven, were sighted approaching Bear Island. The maesters hurried to receive the church's representatives, while the rest of Bear Island's populace paid little attention to their arrival.

The church's emissaries swiftly packed the completed books and, after handing over the chests of gold, departed in haste. The entire transaction took less than half a day, and Jorah was relieved that he didn't have to host a grand dinner for the priests of the Faith of the Seven. Any hint of a shift in his faith or even rumours about it could lead to his isolation in the North.

"So much gold?" Lady Annara exclaimed as she held her newborn son, Odin Mormont, in her arms while inspecting the gleaming coins.

 "It's not as much as it seems!" Jorah replied from behind, his eyes fixed on the chests of gold.

"Humph! Don't try to act like a Southern lord. When I first arrived here, I saw the treasury, barely two chests filled with coppers. Now, look at it—a chest full of gold," Lady Annara teased, puncturing Jorah's pretence.

"Our Odin has brought us great fortune," Jorah commented before taking the sleeping baby into his own arms.

"I wonder how long this gold will last!" Lady Annara sighed.

"What do you mean?" Jorah inquired; his curiosity piqued.

"My dear husband, I've witnessed you generously distribute your wealth like a flowing river. While other Northern lords provide some food and clothing to their people, you shower copper coins on the sailors, soldiers, and even the labourers," Lady Annara remarked.

Jorah chuckled. "Well, it's not easy to change old habits."

"Wait... where are you going, Jorah? Are you hiding something?" Lady Annara, curious and suspicious, followed her husband.

But Lord Jorah, displaying unexpected agility, managed to elude his wife's pursuit. If Lady Annara discovered his upcoming plans, she might not let him near the bed.

In this mix of happiness and concern, two months passed swiftly. Lady Maege gave birth to her second child, a plump and cherubic girl named Alysane. The construction of new shops at various ports was underway, as they invested generously in their decoration.

Ser Stephen led a team of labourers to construct a new dock at Stony Shore. The village at Stony Shore began to take shape, and its inhabitants enjoyed a new life with abundant food. Stephen, ever vigilant, frequently inspected the area in preparation for potential pirate or Ironborn attacks.

Jorah could not forget the last Ironborn attack, and he knew the old squid harboured a deep-seated grudge that transcended generations.

"Lord Mormont, this is the price list offered by the slavers. Please, take a look," Master Gibbs, who had met with Lord Jorah that morning during the council meeting, handed over the list of slave prices.

Jorah's face contorted as he perused the list. It contained every type of individual he desired—scribes, craftsmen, tutors, proficient sailors, and shipbuilders. It was his dream shopping list, but the prices were exorbitantly high.

 "Master Gibbs, did you inform the slaver that we intend to purchase a substantial number of slaves?" Jorah inquired, intrigued.

"That... well, I felt it might be considered inappropriate to openly discuss such matters. I simply requested a price list," Master Gibbs replied honestly.

"No wonder," Jorah muttered, comprehending the reason for the inflated prices. The list was clearly tailored for individual buyers rather than bulk purchasers.

Taking matters into his own hands, Jorah wrote down the prices he deemed fair for each category of slave. He sent the revised list back to the slaver. Later that evening, Lord Rockwell, the slaver, was brought to Jorah for a private meeting.

"I am deeply honoured to be in your presence, Lord Mormont," Lord Rockwell greeted, exuding an air of grace that sharply contrasted with his cruel demeanour.

"Hmm... The numbers and quantities we desire are already there. Now, the question is the price. I hope you can offer a rate that not only allows us to proceed with this trade but also establishes a long-term partnership," Jorah spoke with a serious tone.

"A partnership?" Lord Rockwell's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I understand, Lord Jorah. Let's negotiate."

Late into the night, Jorah sent a deposit to Lord Rockwell, who hurriedly departed to retrieve his "goods." The deal was concluded, and Jorah was content with the outcome. For Bear Island, transitioning from a primitive farming and fishing economy to a more trade-oriented and profession-based society was a monumental leap forward.

While it might appear insignificant to some, for Jorah and the people of Bear Island, it felt akin to a man landing on the moon. A small step for a person and a giant leap for Bear Island.

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