Gunan Province, Northeastern Yi Ti

314 AC

It was midday when they reached Jingsho.

Mao, having shaven his mustache and now dressed in the rough-hewn linen apparel of a farmer, led from the front on a mare. Beside him on his own horse sat Jin Suara. Mormont had been regulated to sitting on the wagon with one of the other operatives, a man named Lee Mobu. The other four operatives: Sake Da; Wifung Ti; Xoatung Mi; and Ping Lopeng, were riding their own mounts.

Despite having Mao's full endorsement and trust, Mormont was not given the position of leader for the raid on Serpent's Reach-something which he himself had no objections to. That honor had been given to Suara; who happened to be Mao's top man, so to speak.

Suara had not initially liked him when they first met, and Mormont couldn't exactly blame him. It was quite easy to tell between the two of them who had been the missionary and who had been the mercenary. Suara had undoubtedly been called upon to do similar dangerous missions before. He was doing all of this for his Emperor, for his country, and for his people. And on the opposite end of the spectrum, Mormont was the outsider doing this just to get a carrot dangling from a stick; a prize bequeathed to him from Mao once the job was done.

However, Mao seemed to have his back, and had spoken highly of Duncan to Suara and the others with them. Just a few staunch and kind words from his employer about the laowai seemed to put Suara at ease around Mormont.

The seven of them were traveling north undercover as farmers, with the barrels of Chimera's Breath in the back of their large wagon having been coated over in brown paint and labled as grain and vegetables. Their destination was a quiet little hamlet in Izohoruna just half a day north of Serpent's Reach. An alternate identity had even been created for Duncan-that of a dimwitted, but clearly strong and hardy Braavosi who had come on a ship some eight moons ago. Naturally he was almost three heads taller than most YiTish, so even attempting to disguise him as one would raise a lot of questions.

And so the journey to Izohoruna had not been entirely unpleasant. Only quiet.

Hurray.

The foot traffic up The Ninghe, a highway which had branched off from the Silk Road was surprisingly abundant. Plenty of travelers hailing from the north or south were heading to Jingsho alongside them.

Actual farmers leading their flocks of sheep or cattle, miners, tradesmen, families. It was odd to think that they all had legitimate purpose in being there while Mormont and his friends did not.

Mormont was largely left to his own devices. Mobu had not been a sterling conversationalist, and neither was talking as part of their cover.

As a rule, Mormont was never bothered by silence. Father told him that he'd often be dealing with lords who would try to unnerve him by using it as a weapon.

All he really had to do was to observe his surroundings… and that was that.

Once they reached Jingsho, both Mao and Suara went ahead to speak with the guardsmen at the front gate-whom Duncan immediately assumed to be the operative stationed in Jingsho Mao had mentioned over a week ago. That was likely their ticket inside Izohoruna.

As they spoke, Mormont continued to survey the flood of people who'd lined up at the front gates to Jingsho around them. One by one he counted the heads to pass the time, and settled on the fact that there were likely over three-hundred people waiting along with them.

A shepherd had quietly inspected each of his sheep, probably making sure none of them were injured. Whatever it is shepherds do, at least.

To his immediate left, there was a family whom had their own wagon. Mormont watched as a little girl-probably seven or so years old, around the same age as his youngest brother-pulled on her father's cuff before pointing directly at Mormont.

He looked away, and pretended not to hear the older man gruffly say, "Laowai," to his left.

What was behind them? Mormont glanced casually at the rows and rows of people on their rear.

More heads popped out of the crowd of unassuming people. More than he seemed to have counted earlier. Most were bare, revealing black hair and pale-yellow faces. More thin than plump. These YiTish were sinewy, and while they probably enjoyed their food, they also had the discipline to simply not overeat.

Linen or woolen clothes. Nothing really out of the ordinary. And then there was the shape of their heads-

Wait! His mind was on full alert now. Something had caught his eye further out into the line.

A man was sitting on his horse about a mile back down the highway. Mormont narrowed his eyes in on the strikingly familiar character…

Egg-shaped head. Patchy dark brown woolen cloak. He seemed quite tall for a YiTish, as well.

The picture snapped immediately into his mind. Of course! The dirty-cloaked man he'd seen in Giuyara! And waiting in the main hall of Royal House! There was no mistaking the sight, it had to be the same man.

But what in the blazes was he doing out here in Jingsho? And coincidentally right within the same vicinity of Mao?

There are no coincidences, the ghost of his father's voice told him.

A spy? An agent of the Yellow King even? Mao claimed that the Cult of Starry Wisdom was unusually well-informed. Perhaps… perhaps this was why.

Mormont made up his mind within seconds, the calm and cool professional within him had taken over. Carefully, he turned away from the rows of people behind him and looked ahead. Mao and Suara seemed to be wrapping up their discussion with the guard at the front gates to Jingsho. He leaned over only slightly to Mobu.

"Don't make a fuss. I need you to get Mao. Immediately." He saw Mobu turn his head towards him. "I think we're being followed."

Mobu's eyes narrowed sharply, inspecting Mormont's features, before he nodded wordlessly. Mobu handed Duncan the reigns and quickly stepped down the short ladder to the ground.

Just then, Mao and Suara had made their way back to the escort. Mobu intercepted them and spoke quietly to the former. Suara placed his palm over the pommel of his shortsword, while Mao had glanced at Duncan momentarily. It was then that Mobu dipped his head and came back to the wagon, stepping up the ladder, taking the reigns from Mormont and gesturing to him to go to Mao.

Mormont nodded and stepped off, looking over his shoulder one more time to see whether or not the cloaked man was still there.

He was. Good.

Mormont walked next to Mao, who gave him a cursory, yet somewhat appraising glance. "It appears you were correct, Zūnjià. Not only has this curious caravan not yet made it to Kiyoya, but they were also seen passing through Mosho, and up towards Serpent's Reach. The Yellow King may be hiding behind Tsai Na's silk skirts after all."

"You heard that from your man here?"

Mao nodded. "Indeed. He said as much, and even warned us of strange omens coming from Mosho. Rumors and the like." He waved his hand idly. "But that is besides the point… You believe we are being followed?"

"Yes." Mormont said simply. "A man I saw back in Giuyara. And inside Royal House. I thought he was a farmer at the time. He's about a mile behind us among the peasantry. Wearing a sort of makeshift cloak."

Mao's eyes immediately whipped towards him. "Why did you not mention this sooner, Zūnjià?!"

"As I said, I thought he was a farmer. But knowing how well-informed these cultists are, I think he might be a spy. The odds of him being here at the same time as us, even with our cover, is outstandingly unlikely."

"You are certain of this?"

Mormont narrowed his eyes sharply. "This is the third time I've seen him, Mao. I'm not about to take any chances on this. There are no coincidences."

The older man sighed exhaustedly and ran a hand down his golden-brown face. "Very well," he nodded. "We shall corner him within the city walls. Stand by for further orders."

Mormont nodded and immediately returned to the wagon, taking his seat next to Mobu once again. All the while, he occasionally glanced back at the cloaked man just to keep an eye on him. The spy didn't appear to notice them.

The line had rumbled back to life. The horses crossed the threshold into town, and so the family wagon at their side was held up at the gate now.

Jingsho was buzzing with life.

Immediately, Mormont was greeted with the same rushing clamor of voices, yelling, horses neighing, and goats bleating all at the same exact moment. The faint scent of salt wafted into his nose, as well as that of mud and old barreled fish. Smoke rose from the various iron chimneys that dotted the town's roofline as they descended the hill from the front gates and down into the main square.

Almost in spite of the quantities of snow and cold brownish slush muddled all over the ground, the streets themselves were well-cobbled, and fairly clean at that. There was no stink of piss or shit to be found, nothing of the sound of a whore plying her trade in some dingy back alley.

It was the stark opposite of his time in Oldtown to be sure.

As it was close to midday, there were plenty of other people gathered in the main square. Stalls and fences had been set up nearby or around the grand and elaborate stone statue in the middle of the place. It depicted a rather comely, but modestly dressed woman.

Instinctively, he glanced behind him and back at the opened border gates. The family he'd seen earlier had been let through, and so had the shepherd. There were many others who were currently being held up and having their belongings searched.

The cloaked man was not in sight-at least not yet. Very soon, however, Mormont knew he would be.

The plan. What was the plan? Mao said they'd corner this spy within the city. Probably apprehend him quietly and take him somewhere out of the way. Questions would come then. And hopefully, so would some answers.

Or would they?

Mormont still had his eyes peeled on the gates-but wondered about the actual goal of this dirtied stranger he'd spotted in Giuyara. If he in fact was a spy, and he was eventually caught… then what would he do when backed into a corner? What orders would the Yellow King have given him in case that had happened?

Kill Mao? Kill his operatives? Kill me?

Likely. No, definitely. Mao was heading up the investigation into the Cult of Starry Wisdom. If he was dead, then the Azure Emperor would be crippled, at least when it came to gathering intelligence. No doubt leading to more chaos within Yi Ti. More rape and death and destruction of the lives cultivated in these lands. And if the Yellow King was hiding on Serpent's Reach… this assassin would certainly wish to create a "Fēnsàn zhùyì lì," a distraction. An upset so as to take away attention from the Cult's hideout. He'd want to stop Mao from going any further, stop him from heading on down to Serpent's Reach.

It wouldn't matter if the spy himself was also killed as a result. These cultists were believers, fanatics. They'd throw away their own lives willingly for the 'cause,' it seemed. The Yellow King must've been one hell of a preacher in that case. Bleeding heart and all.

In that case, Mormont would simply have to make sure that Mao didn't get killed, as he was undoubtedly the main target here.

As they got further away from the border gates, and stopped at a tavern by the edges of the main square, Mormont finally narrowed his eyes on the spotted patchy dark brown cloak.

Got you.

He kept up with the role given to him. Slowly, he stepped off the ladder just after the wagon came to a halt, and made himself busy looking over the barrels of Chimera's Breath in the back of the wagon.

Mobu came to his side and hauled up one of the barrels at the front, one of the ones which was legitimately filled with grain and turned to him. "We wait until he slips closer. Then you will show him to us." Said the smaller man in a hushed tone of voice, passing on the barrel of grain to Duncan.

Mormont nodded dumbly, as if he'd just heard the other man crack a lame joke that he didn't quite understand, and schooled his face of any emotion.

The other four were similarly tending to their horses, or looking over the shape of the wagon itself. Xoatung Mi even inspected the wheels so as to keep the appearance that he was busy. Meanwhile, Mormont and Mobu kept up the game of the dim-witted farmhand and his handler. Minor adjustments were made to the order of the barrels, and the other bundles of dried food kept in the back of the wagon. All the while, Mormont's nerves were on fire.

It must've been nearly half-an-hour later. Mormont finally had glanced over his shoulder one more time and kept his cool- the cloaked man, now on foot, stood about twenty paces away at a stall across the street with his back to Mormont.

Duncan looked to Mobu and the others. They were scanning the crowd as much as they could within their respective covers.

Mormont stood quietly next to Mobu. "The one at the stall across the way. That's him."

"Him?" The shorter man asked, nodding slightly to the spy.

"Him."

There was no further need for questioning. Action was all that remained. Mobu uttered a few words to the others around the wagon, and looked to Mormont briefly. "Come."

They made their way carefully through the passersby, taking pains to stop and move out of the way of other escorts so as to be polite. But steadily they made progress until they were all but a few feet away from the cloaked man.

It was Mobu who spoke first. A spirited lashing of YiTish came from the stout man's mouth.

Slowly, the cloaked man turned around, and Duncan got a better view of his egg-shaped face and sallow, lightless eyes. Without a doubt, it was the same man he saw back in Giuyara. His expression was… oddly impassive. Even as he'd robotically looked at each of the six fighting-age men who surrounded him.

The woman in the stall behind the cloaked man even seemed to be wary, possibly frightful for what might happen next. She drew back her palms slowly, taking away the rough hunk of jade she'd been about to offer before.

Mobu spoke again. And then the spy. The former gestured for the nameless one to follow. The only response was an almost mechanical nod.

Past the stall again, and into a narrow alley just off the main road. The ambient noise of the townsfolk had lessened somewhat.

Mao and Suara had caught up with them. Now they stood next to Duncan as Mobu and the others stood only paces away from the cloaked man against the stone walls of the tavern.

It was Mao who stepped forward, and spoke now calmly in YiTish. It sounded as if he were posing a question.

The cloaked man didn't answer, and only stared indifferently at Mao.

"Shuōhuà!" Mao said again, this time with more force in his voice. Mormont knew the word meant 'Speak' in the Common Tongue.

Mormont had seen it before the others. It was the decade's worth of experience training with live steel that gave it away. He'd dodged far too many feints from his father to not notice it. Those black holes for eyes had narrowed sharply. Duncan's heart pounded as he saw the cloaked man lance towards Mao as fast as a viper! A gleaming flash of metal came from under his hand.

The muscles in his legs had tensed, and Mormont sprung into action, throwing himself into the assassin and intercepting him with a full-blown tackle against the wall. A sharp crack was heard as bone rammed into timber, and as Mormont's hard shoulder connected with the other man's sternum. Something clattered to the ground! Mormont felt the other man's hands grapple and his arms and face as they tumbled into the slush.

Then the others were helping him in an instant. Suara had elbowed the assassin in the face and held down the hand which had once grasped a knife. Likewise Mobu and Xaotung, had pinned the spy to the ground!

Suara picked up the knife with his free hand and, just as swiftly, slit the assassin's throat with it.

It was over within seconds. Life seeped out of those soulless black eyes. All resistance had ceased, and the body fell limp.

They all stood up and looked down at their handiwork.

"Shit," Mormont allowed himself the curse. It wasn't never pleasant to watch a man die. He'd seen enough of his father's executions to know the feeling. Even if this particular man had a mind to kill his friend.

A hand rested on his shoulder. It was Mao. There was nothing but gratitude in those black-brown eyes.

"Zūnjià…" Mao took his hand away and bowed reverently to him-an action, Mormont had noticed, which was not lost on the other men present. "I owe you my life, Duncan. Already you have done more than enough to earn yourself a fortune many times over. Surely I must recompen-"

"Don't mention it," He could hear Mao's platitudes later. Right now they had other problems on their hands.

He looked to Mobu, and pretended not to notice Suara or any of the others now looking at him with renewed respect. Nor the distasteful sense of guilt that was now festering in his gut. "We've got to do something about this body."

They'd searched the body of the cloaked man for anything else he might've had on him. There were a few commonplace objects among the man's possessions, such as an old leather satchel with precisely twenty-five silver pieces; a small linen bundle containing some hard bread and dried beef; several sheaves of worn paper with drawings of Mao and Royal House; as well as a leather book.

It was the book they'd inspected first. All of the words within it were in YiTish, and there were still more drawings and depictions of Mao and now Mormont himself on a few odd pages.

This can't be good, he thought as he watched Mao parse through each page.

"Jiàn nǚ rén!" Mao cursed into the alley. The older man then chose to speak in the Common Tongue for the benefit of Duncan. "This spy has been following me for the last moon!" He continued rifling through the journal. "Indeed! All of my movements in Giuyara within the last two moons, as well as records of our journey north. You," He looked to Duncan then, "Are only described as a laowai, and he has written down descriptions of you and I. What a setback this could be to our plans! It is quite possible that this information is already in the hands of the Yellow King himself!"

Mao had pinched the bridge of his nose and then turned fully to face Mormont. "I apologize profusely, Zūnjià. You may already be incriminated with us, and they will now know that we are coming for them. I will of course absolve you of your mission, as it is entirely my fault that this has been brought upon us. It is now clear to me that I have not been taking these people seriously enough."

"Not so fast, Mao," Mormont forced himself to be ice-cold. He hadn't come all this way for nothing. "How likely is it that he got word back to his superiors? Could he have sent word all the way from Giuyara?"

It was Suara who answered with a shake of his head. "Official messages are carried by pigeon. But I do not see him having access to one, as they are kept by nobility. He would have to put it all in a letter and send it to the post office in Royal House. All letters and documents are sent on a bi-weekly transport from town to town."

"So, what? A few weeks then?"

"If the weather is kind," Suara shrugged, "Then yes."

That really did a number on their plan, didn't it? The Yellow King surely knew about Mao-probably had even tracked his movements some time before this.

Effectively, the whole operation was in jeopardy…

…or was it?

Mormont did the math. A bi-weekly escort? Something like that wasn't wholly reliable-especially if the weather was unkind.

Mormont went out on the assumption that the Yellow King probably knew that Mao had come back to Giuyara-Mao's base of operations-for some reason and wanted him tracked. He likely also knew that Mormont was with him, though not why.

Would he know about this operation, though? Would this spy have told him that we left Giuyara and were heading for Serpent's Reach?

Unlikely. They'd left Giuyara in a hurry. Mao didn't want the trail on the merchant caravan to go cold. The odds of the assassin having sent word in such a short time were rather slim-no doubt he'd have to continue following Mao to keep up his spy reports. And potentially kill Mao incase they got too close.

That was it then. It was risk, but one that Mormont was willing to take. "Don't worry about the operation, Mao. I don't think the Yellow King knows we're coming."

"Zūnjià! You have already seen the lengths these people will go to protect their precious High Priest!" Those last two words were said with as much disdain as the older man could summon. "We do not know the full extend of what this man has discovered and sent back. The Yellow King knows of me, and now of you. How could he not anticipate our arrival to Serpent's Reach?"

"Based on how quickly we left Giuyara, I'd say." Mormont said, "I don't think our friend here would've been able to send word about us leaving-he was too busy following us. And the fact that he chose to tail us instead of staying put in Giuyara means that we're on the right trail. He didn't have a pigeon with him coming up here, so it's entirely possible he never had one to begin with. And…" he paused and glanced around at the others, and finally again on Mao. "...it's not like he knew about our plan anyway. Not about the Chimera's Breath at least. I think we can still make this work."

Mao stepped away and looked down at the jangled corpse of the spy. Nothing was given away. Neither had the others voiced their agreement nor disagreement. They silently looked to their commander for further orders.

Mormont knew that Mao was considering it, though.

Was he crazy? Surely this changed the game didn't it? A spy caught red-handed attempting to kill the Yellow King's opposite number. It was all very tempting to just leave and head back the way they came.

And yet… to leave now when he'd come so far… and right when he was about to be thrust into the action!

Sure, perhaps going back to Giuyara was the safer choice… but how much longer would Duncan need to wait until he got what he came for? Another six moons? A year? How much longer would he need to wait until he found a prize for Robb Stark?

Until he could go home.

No! This was his chance. His one chance to set everything right again! Back to the way it should be!

Whether or not the Yellow King knew they were coming (which Mormont sincerely doubted), the yellow bastard surely wouldn't have known how they were planning to get into Serpent's Reach. The spy hadn't been privy to those secret meetings in Royal House, he'd only been able to track Mao's movements on the outside.

Yes! That was it. That simply had to be it.

Mao turned around, after what seemed like minutes in reflection. "Alright, Zūnjià," he said, holding up a patient hand. "We will continue this mission as planned. However, if there are any more mistakes such as what has happened today… we shall immediately abort and make our way back south. I trust this is acceptable to you?"

Though that last line was a question, it was not phrased as one. It was an order.

Mormont nodded firmly.

That was the last they spoke for the day. They busied themselves getting rid of the spy's corpse.

Later that evening as Duncan settled down into a rather too-small tavern bed, before the morrow when they'd continue their trek down towards Serpent's Reach, he prayed in his heart of hearts that he hadn't just convinced six men to ride right into a trap with him.

Author's Note:

For those of you who have stuck with me so far, I'd just like to make my appreciation for you known.

Duncan is not, and never was, intended to be an immediately likable protagonist. At the moment, he's a much younger and less-experienced version of Starag. And Yi Ti is rarely mentioned at all in canon (most of the details I'm come up with were largely taken from or inspired by Imperial China). As you can see, we're not exactly doing yet another retelling of ASIOAF.

From the way things have been going, I've really trying to show more than tell that this is much more of a redemption story. And with some rather big events happening later down the line (we're almost at the halfway mark), a much more ambitious story at that.

Anyway, thank you again-see you on the next one :)